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       NESTOR.

       Well, and how?

       ULYSSES.

       This challenge that the gallant Hector sends,

       However it is spread in general name,

       Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

       NESTOR.

       True. The purpose is perspicuous even as substance

       Whose grossness little characters sum up;

       And, in the publication, make no strain

       But that Achilles, were his brain as barren

       As banks of Libya—though, Apollo knows,

       ‘Tis dry enough—will with great speed of judgment,

       Ay, with celerity, find Hector’s purpose

       Pointing on him.

       ULYSSES.

       And wake him to the answer, think you?

       NESTOR.

       Why, ‘tis most meet. Who may you else oppose

       That can from Hector bring those honours off,

       If not Achilles? Though ‘t be a sportful combat,

       Yet in this trial much opinion dwells

       For here the Troyans taste our dear’st repute

       With their fin’st palate; and trust to me, Ulysses,

       Our imputation shall be oddly pois’d

       In this vile action; for the success,

       Although particular, shall give a scantling

       Of good or bad unto the general;

       And in such indexes, although small pricks

       To their subsequent volumes, there is seen

       The baby figure of the giant mas

       Of things to come at large. It is suppos’d

       He that meets Hector issues from our choice;

       And choice, being mutual act of all our souls,

       Makes merit her election, and doth boil,

       As ‘twere from forth us all, a man distill’d

       Out of our virtues; who miscarrying,

       What heart receives from hence a conquering part,

       To steel a strong opinion to themselves?

       Which entertain’d, limbs are his instruments,

       In no less working than are swords and bows

       Directive by the limbs.

       ULYSSES.

       Give pardon to my speech.

       Therefore ‘tis meet Achilles meet not Hector.

       Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares

       And think perchance they’ll sell; if not, the lustre

       Of the better yet to show shall show the better,

       By showing the worst first. Do not consent

       That ever Hector and Achilles meet;

       For both our honour and our shame in this

       Are dogg’d with two strange followers.

       NESTOR.

       I see them not with my old eyes. What are they?

       ULYSSES.

       What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,

       Were he not proud, we all should wear with him;

       But he already is too insolent;

       And it were better parch in Afric sun

       Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,

       Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foil’d,

       Why, then we do our main opinion crush

       In taint of our best man. No, make a lott’ry;

       And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw

       The sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselves

       Give him allowance for the better man;

       For that will physic the great Myrmidon,

       Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall

       His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends.

       If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,

       We’ll dress him up in voices; if he fail,

       Yet go we under our opinion still

       That we have better men. But, hit or miss,

       Our project’s life this shape of sense assumes—

       Ajax employ’d plucks down Achilles’ plumes.

       NESTOR.

       Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice;

       And I will give a taste thereof forthwith

       To Agamemnon. Go we to him straight.

       Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone

       Must tarre the mastiffs on, as ‘twere their bone.

       [Exeunt.]