Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.

Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents; I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.

Patr. A good riddance.

[Exit.

Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through all our

host:

That Hector, by the first5 hour of the sun,
Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,
That hath a stomach; and such a one, that dare
Maintain-I know not what; 'tis trash; Farewel.
Ajax. Farewel. Who shall answer him?

Achil. I know not, it is put to lottery; otherwise,
He knew his man.

Ajax. O, meaning you :-I'll go learn more of it.

SCENE II.

Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace.

[Exeunt.

Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and

HELENUS.

Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks; Deliver Helen, and all damage else—

As honour, loss of time, travel, expence,

Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd
In hot digestion of this cormorant war,—

But Thersites could not mean to compliment Patroclus, and therefore this cannot, I think, be the true reading. Brach, which was introduced by Mr. Rowe, might serve well enough, but that it certainly meant a bitch. [See Vol. VI, p. 14, n. 9.] It is possible, however, that Shakspeare might have used the word as synony mous to follower, without any regard to sex.

I have sometimes thought that the word intended might have been Achilles's brock, i. e. that over-weening conceited coxcomb, who attends upon Achilles. Our author has used this term of contempt in Twelfth Night: "Marry, hang thee, brock!" So, in The Fests of George Peele, quarto, 1657: "This self-conceited brock, had George invited," &c.

Malone.

A brock, literally, means-a badger. Steevens.

5

- Malone.

the first -] So the quarto. Folio-the fifth

Shall be struck off:-Hector, what say you to 't?

Hect. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I, As far as toucheth my particular, yet,

Dread Priam,

There is no lady of more softer bowels,

More spungy to suck in the sense of fear,

More ready to cry out-Who knows what follows?
Than Hector is: The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes,
Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours:
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,
To guard a thing not ours; not worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten;
What merit 's in that reason, which denies
The yielding of her up?

Tro.

Fy, fy, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,

So great as our dread father, in a scale

Of common ounces? will you with counters sum
The past-proportion of his infinite?

And buckle-in a waist most fathomless,

With spans and inches so diminutive

As fears and reasons? fy, for godly shame!

Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons,*

71

Who knows what follows?] Who knows what ill consequences may follow from pursuing this or that course? Malone. many thousand dismes,] Disme, Fr. is the tithe, the tenth. So, in the Prologue to Gower's Confessio Amantis, 1554: "The disme goeth to the battaile."

8

Again, in Holinshed's Reign of King Richard II:" so that there was levied, what of the disme, and by the devotion of the people," &c. Steevens.

9 The past-proportion of his infinite?] Thus read both the copies. The meaning is, that greatness to which no measure bears any proportion. The modern editors silently give:

1

The vast proportion · Johnson.

though you bite so sharp at reasons, &c.] Here is a

You are so empty of them. Should not our father
Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons,
Because your speech hath none, that tells him so?
Tro. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest,
You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons:
You know, an enemy intends you harm;
You know, a sword employ'd is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm:
Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels;
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,

Or like a star dis-orb'd:2—Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep: Manhood and honour
Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect
Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.3

Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding.

Tro.

What is aught, but as 'tis valued?

Hect. But value dwells not in particular will;

It holds his estimate and dignity

As well wherein 'tis precious of itself

As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry,

To make the service greater than the god;
And the will dotes, that is attributive

wretched quibble between reasons and raisins, which, in Shakspeare's time, were, I believe, pronounced alike. Dogberry, in Much Ado about Nothing, plays upon the same words: "If Justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance." Malone.

The present suspicion of a quibble on the word-reason, is not, in my opinion, sufficiently warranted by the context. Steevens.

2 And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,

Or like a star dis-orb'd?] These two lines are misplaced in all the folio editions. Pope.

3

reason and respect

Make livers pale, &c.] Respect is caution, a regard to consequences. So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece:

"Then, childish fear, avaunt! debating die!

"Respect and reason wait on wrinkled age!

"Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage." Malone. 4 And the will dotes, that is attributive-] So the quarto. The folio reads-inclinable, which Mr. Pope says "is better." Malone.

To what infectiously itself affects,
Without some image of the affected merit.5
Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will;6
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment: How may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose? there can be no evasion

To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour:
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,

When we have soil'd them; nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sieve,9

Because we now are full. It was thought meet,

I think the first reading better; the will dotes that attributes or gives the qualities which it affects; that first causes excellence, and then admires it. Johnson.

5 Without some image of the affected merit.] We should read: the affected's merit.

i. e. without some mark of merit in the thing affected.

Warburton. The present reading is right. The will affects an object for some supposed merit, which Hector says is censurable, unless the merit so affected be really there. Johnson.

6

in the conduct of my will;] i. e. under the guidance of my will. Malone.

7

8

9

blench-] See p. 14, n. 5. Steevens.

soil'd them;] So reads the quarto. The folio:
•spoil'd them. Johnson.

— unrespective sieve,] That is, unto a common voider. Sieve is in the quarto. The folio reads:

unrespective same;

for which the second folio and modern editions have silently printed:

unrespective place. Johnson.

It is well known that sieves and half-sieves are baskets to be met with in every quarter of Covent Garden market; and that, in some families, baskets lined with tin are still employed as voiders. With the former of these senses sieve is used in The Wits, by Sir W. D'Avenant:

66

apple-wives

"That wrangle for a sieve."

Dr. Farmer adds, that in several counties of England, the baskets us used for carrying out dirt, &c. are called sieves. The correction, therefore, in the second folio, appears to have been unnecessary. Steevens.

Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks:
Your breath with full consent1 bellied his sails;
The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce,
And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir'd;
And, for an old aunt,2 whom the Greeks held captive,
He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and fresh-

ness

Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning.3
Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt:
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships,
And turn'd crown'd king's to merchants.

If you 'il avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went,
(As you must needs, for you all cry'd-Go, go,)
If you 'll confess, he brought home noble prize,
(As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands,
And cry'd-Inestimable!) why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate;
And do a deed that fortune never did,4
Beggar the estimation which you priz'd

1 Your breath with full consent-] Your breaths all blowing together; your unanimous approbation. See Vol. IX, p. 159, n. 6. Thus the quarto. The folio reads-of full consent. Malone.

2 And, for an old aunt,] Priam's sister, Hesione, whom Hercules, being enraged at Priam's breach of faith, gave to Telamon, who by her had Ajax. Malone.

This circumstance is also found in Lydgate, Book II, where Priam says:

66

My syster eke, called Exiona

"Out of this regyon ye have ladde away" &c. Steevens. 3 - makes pale the morning.] So the quarto. The folio and modern editors

·makes stale the morning. Johnson.

▲ And do a deed that fortune never did,] If I understand this passage, the meaning is: "Why do you, by censuring the determination of your own wisdoms, degrade Helen, whom fortune has not yet deprived of her value, or against whom, as the wife of Paris, fortune has not in this war so declared, as to make us value her less?" This is very harsh, and much strained. Johnson. The meaning, I believe, is: "Act with more inconstancy and caprice than ever did fortune." Henley.

Fortune was never so unjust and mutable as to rate a thing on one day above all price, and on the next to set no estimation whatsoever upon it. You are now going to do what fortune never did. Such, I think, is the meaning. Malone.