As Nestor all the processe of this battell did reherceBetweene the valeant Lapithes and misshapen Centawres ferce,Tlepolemus displeased sore that Hercules was past With silence, could not hold his peace, but out theis woordes did cast:My Lord, I muse you should forget my fathers prayse so quyght.For often unto mee himself was woonted to recite,How that the clowdbred folk by him were cheefly put to flyght.Ryght sadly Nestor answerd thus: Why should you mee constreyne To call to mynd forgotten greefs? and for to reere ageineThe sorrowes now outworne by tyme? or force mee to declareThe hatred and displeasure which I to your father bare?In sooth his dooings greater were than myght bee well beleeved.He fild the world with high renowme which nobly he atcheeved. Which thing I would I could denye. For neyther set wee outDeiphobus, Polydamas, nor Hector that most stoutAnd valeant knyght, the strength of Troy. For whoo will prayse his fo?Your father overthrew the walles of Messen long ago,And razed Pyle, and Ely townes unwoorthye serving so. And feerce ageinst my fathers house hee usde bothe swoord and fyre.And (not to speake of others whom he killed in his ire)Twyce six wee were the sonnes of Nele all lusty gentlemen.Twyce six of us (excepting mee) by him were murthred then.The death of all the rest myght seeme a matter not so straunge: But straunge was Periclymens death whoo had the powre to chaungeAnd leave and take what shape he list (by Neptune to him given,The founder of the house of Nele). For when he had beene drivenTo try all shapes, and none could help: he last of all becameThe fowle that in his hooked feete dooth beare the flasshing flame Sent downe from heaven by Jupiter. He practising those birds,With flapping wings, and bowwing beake, and hooked talants girdsAt Hercle, and beescratcht his face. Too certeine (I may say)Thy father amde his shaft at him. For as he towring layAmong the clowdes, he hit him underneath the wing. The stroke Was small: howbee't bycause therwith the sinewes being broke,He wanted strength to maynteine flyght, he fell me to the ground,Through weakenesse of his wing. The shaft that sticked in the wound,By reason of the burthen of his bodye perst his syde,And at the leftsyde of his necke all bloodye foorth did glyde. Now tell mee, O thou beawtyfull Lord Amirall of the fleeteOf Rhodes, if mee to speake the prayse of Hercle it bee meete.But lest that of my brothers deathes men think I doo desyreA further vendge than silence of the prowesse of thy syre,I love thee even with all my hart, and take thee for my freend.

When Nestor of his pleasant tales had made this freendly end,They called for a boll of wyne, and from the table went,And all the resdew of the nyght in sleeping soundly spent.But Neptune like a father tooke the matter sore to hartThat Cygnet to a Swan he was constreyned to convert. And hating feerce Achilles, he did wreake his cruell teeneUppon him more uncourteously than had beseeming beene.For when the warres well neere full twyce fyve yeeres had lasted, heeUnshorne Apollo thus bespake: O nevew, unto meeMost deere of all my brothers impes, who helpedst mee to lay Foundation of the walles of Troy for which we had no pay,And canst thou syghes forbeare to see the Asian Empyre fall?And dooth it not lament thy hart when thou to mynd doost callSo many thousand people slayne in keeping Ilion wall?Or (too th'entent particlerly I doo not speake of all) Remembrest thou not Hectors Ghost whoo harryed was aboutHis towne of Troy? where nerethelesse Achilles that same stoutAnd farre in fyght more butcherly, whoo stryves with all his myghtTo stroy the woorke of mee and thee, lives still in healthfull plyght?If ever hee doo come within my daunger he shall feele What force is in my tryple mace. But sith with swoord of steeleI may not meete him as my fo, I pray thee unbeewareGo kill him with a sodeine shaft and rid mee of my care.Apollo did consent: as well his uncle for to please,As also for a pryvate grudge himself had for to ease. And in a clowd he downe among the host of Troy did slyde,Where Paris dribbling out his shaftes among the Greekes hee spyde:And telling him what God he was, sayd: Wherfore doost thou waastThyne arrowes on the simple sort? If any care thou hasteOf those that are thy freendes, go turne ageinst Achilles head, And like a man revendge on him thy brothers that are dead.In saying this, he brought him where Achilles with his brondWas beating downe the Trojane folk, and leveld so his hondAs that Achilles tumbled downe starke dead uppon the lond.This was the onely thing wherof the old king Priam myght Take comfort after Hectors death. That stout and valeant knyghtAchilles whoo had overthrowen so many men in fyght,Was by that coward carpet knyght beereeved of his lyfe,Whoo like a caytif stale away the Spartane princes wyfe.But if of weapon womanish he had foreknowen it had His destnye beene to lose his lyfe, he would have beene more gladThat Queene Penthesileas bill had slaine him out of hand.Now was the feare of Phrygian folk, the onely glory, andDefence of Greekes, that peerelesse prince in armes, Achilles turndTo asshes. That same God that had him armd, him also burnd. Now is he dust: and of that great Achilles bydeth stillA thing of nought, that scarcely can a little coffin fill.Howbee't his woorthy fame dooth lyve, and spreadeth over allThe world, a measure meete for such a persone to beefall.This matcheth thee, Achilles, full. And this can never dye. His target also (too th'entent that men myght playnly spyeWhat wyghts it was) did move debate, and for his armour burstOut deadly foode. Not Diomed, nor Ajax Oylye durstMake clayme or chalendge to the same, nor Atreus yoonger sonne,Nor yit his elder, though in armes much honour they had wonne. Alone the sonnes of Telamon and Laert did assayWhich of them two of that great pryse should beare the bell away.But Agamemnon from himself the hurthen putts, and cleeresHis handes of envye, causing all the Capteines and the PeeresOf Greece to meete amid the camp togither in a place,To whom he put the heering and the judgement of the cace.

The Lordes and Capteynes being set toogither with the King,And all the souldiers standing round about them in a ring,The owner of the sevenfold sheeld, to theis did Ajax ryse.And (as he could not brydle wrath) he cast his frowning eyesUppon the shore and on the fleete that there at Anchor lyes And throwing up his handes: God and must wee plead (quoth hee)Our case before our shippes? and must Ulysses stand with mee?But like a wretch he ran his way when Hector came with fyre,Which I defending from theis shippes did force him to retyre.It easyer is therefore with woordes in print to maynteine stryfe, Than for to fyght it out with fists. But neyther I am ryfeIn woordes, nor hee in deedes. For looke how farre I him excellIn battell and in feates of armes: so farre beares hee the bellFrom mee in talking. Neyther think I requisite to tellMy actes among you. You your selves have seene them verry well. But let Ulysses tell you his doone all in hudther mudther,And wherunto the only nyght is privy and none other.The pryse is great (I doo confesse) for which wee stryve. But yitIt is dishonour unto mee, for that in clayming itSo bace a persone standeth in contention for the same. To think it myne already, ought to counted bee no shameNor pryde in mee: although the thing of ryght great valew beeOf which Ulysses standes in hope. For now alreadye heeHath wonne the honour of this pryse, in that when he shall sitBesydes the cuishon, he may brag he strave with mee for it. And though I wanted valiantnesse, yit should nobiliteeMake with mee. I of Telamon am knowne the sonne to beeWho under valeant Hercules the walles of Troy did scale,And in the shippe of Pagasa to Colchos land did sayle.His father was that Aeacus whoo executeth ryght Among the ghostes where Sisyphus heaves up with all his myghtThe massye stone ay tumbling downe. The hyghest Jove of allAcknowledgeth this Aeacus, and dooth his sonne him call.Thus am I Ajax third from Jove. Yit let this Pedegree,O Achyves, in this case of myne avaylable not bee, Onlesse I proove it fully with Achylles to agree.He was my brother, and I clayme that was my brothers. WhyShouldst thou that art of Sisyphs blood, and for to filch and lyeExpressest him in every poynt, by foorged pedegreeAly thee to the Aeacyds, as though we did not see Thee to the house of Aeacus a straunger for to bee?And is it reason that you should this armour mee denyeBycause I former was in armes, and needed not a spyeTo fetch mee foorth? Or think you him more woorthye it to have,That came to warrefare hindermost, and feynd himself to rave, Bycause he would have shund the warre? untill a suttler headAnd more unprofitable for himself, sir Palamed,Escryde the crafty fetches of his fearefull hart, and drewHim foorth a warfare which he sought so cowardly to eschew?Must he now needes enjoy the best and richest armour, whoo Would none at all have worne onlesse he forced were thertoo?And I with shame bee put besyde my cousin germanes giftsBycause to shun the formest brunt of warres I sought no shifts?Would God this mischeef mayster had in verrye deede beene mad,Or else beleeved so to bee: and that wee never had Brought such a panion unto Troy. Then should not Paeans sonneIn Lemnos like an outlawe to the shame of all us wonne.Who lurking now (as men report) in woodes and caves, dooth moveThe verry flints with syghes and grones, and prayers to God aboveTo send Ulysses his desert. Which prayer (if there bee A God) must one day take effect. And now beehold how heeBy othe a Souldier of our Camp, yea and as well as weeA Capteine too, alas, (who was by Hercules assigndeTo have the keeping of his shafts,) with payne and hungar pynde,Is clad and fed with fowles, and dribs his arrowes up and downe At birds, which were by destinye preparde to stroy Troy towne.Yit liveth hee bycause hee is not still in companieWith sly Ulysses. Palamed that wretched knyght perdie,Would eeke he had abandond beene. For then should still the sameHave beene alyve: or at the least have dyde without our shame. But this companion bearing (ah) too well in wicked myndHis madnesse which sir Palamed by wisdome out did fynd,Appeached him of treason that he practysde to betrayThe Greekish hoste. And for to vouch the fact, he shewd streyght wayA masse of goold that he himself had hidden in his tent, And forged Letters which he feynd from Priam to bee sent.Thus eyther by his murthring men or else by banishmentAbateth hee the Greekish strength. This is Ulysses fyght.This is the feare he puttes men in. But though he had more mightThan Nestor hath, in eloquence he shal not compasse mee To think his leawd abandoning of Nestor for to beeNo fault: who beeing cast behynd by wounding of his horse,And slowe with age, with calling on Ulysses waxing hoarce,Was nerethelesse betrayd by him. Sir Diomed knowes this crymeIs unsurmysde. For he himselfe did at that present tymeRebuke him oftentymes by name, and feercely him upbraydWith flying from his fellowe so who stood in neede of ayd.With ryghtfull eyes dooth God behold the deedes of mortall men.Lo, he that helped not his freend wants help himself agen.And as he did forsake his freend in tyme of neede: so hee Did in the selfsame perrill fall forsaken for to bee.He made a rod to beat himself. He calld and cryed outUppon his fellowes. Streight I came: and there I saw the loutBothe quake and shake for feare of death, and looke as pale as clout.I set my sheeld betweene him and his foes, and him bestrid: And savde the dastards lyfe. Small prayse redoundes of that I did.But if thou wilt contend with mee, lets to the selfesame placeAgein: bee wounded as thou wart: and in the foresayd caseOf feare, beset about with foes: cowch underneath my sheeld:And then contend thou with mee there amid the open feeld. Howbee't, I had no sooner rid this champion of his foes,But where for woundes he scarce before could totter on his toes,He ran away apace, as though he nought at all did ayle.Anon commes Hector to the feeld and bringeth at his tayleThe Goddes. Not only thy hart there (Ulysses) did thee fayle, But even the stowtest courages and stomacks gan to quayle.So great a terrour brought he in. Yit in the midds of allHis bloody ruffe, I coapt with him, and with a foyling fallDid overthrowe him to the ground. Another tyme, when heeDid make a chalendge, you my Lordes by lot did choose out mee, And I did match him hand to hand. Your wisshes were not vayne.For if you aske mee what successe our combate did obteine,I came away unvanquished. Behold the men of TroyBrought fyre and swoord, and all the feendes our navye to destroy.And where was slye Ulysses then with all his talk so smooth? This brest of myne was fayne to fence your thousand shippes forsooth,The hope of your returning home. For saving that same daySo many shippes, this armour give. But (if that I shall sayThe truth) the greater honour now this armour beares away.And our renownes togither link. For (as of reason ought) An Ajax for this armour, not an armour now is soughtFor Ajax.

Let Dulychius match with theis, the horses whyghtOf Rhesus, dastard Dolon, and the coward carpetknyghtKing Priams Helen, and the stelth of Palladye by nyght.Of all theis things was nothing doone by day nor nothing wrought Without the helpe of Diomed. And therefore if yee thoughtTo give them to so small deserts, devyde the same, and letSir Diomed have the greater part. But what should Ithacus getAnd if he had them, who dooth all his matters in the dark,Who never weareth armour, who shootes ay at his owne mark To trappe his fo by stelth unwares? The very headpeece mayWith brightnesse of the glistring gold his privie feates bewrayAnd shew him lurking. Neyther well of force Dulychius wereThe weyght of great Achilles helme uppon his pate to weare.It cannot but a burthen bee (and that ryght great) to beare (With those same shrimpish armes of his) Achilles myghty speare.Agen his target graven with the whole huge world theronAgrees not with a fearefull hand, and cheefly such a oneAs taketh filching even by kynd. Thou Lozell, thou doost seekeA gift that will but weaken thee, which if the folk of Greeke Shall give thee through theyr oversyght, it will be unto theeOccasion, of thyne emnyes spoyld not feared for to bee,And flyght (wherein thou, coward, thou all others mayst outbrag)Will hindred bee when after thee such masses thou shalt drag.Moreover this thy sheeld that feeles so seeld the force of fyght Is sound. But myne is gasht and hakt and stricken thurrough quyghtA thousand tymes, with bearing blowes. And therfore myne must walkAnd put another in his stead. But what needes all this talk?Lets now bee seene another whyle what eche of us can doo.The thickest of our armed foes this armour throwe into, And bid us fetch the same fro thence. And which of us dooth fetchThe same away, reward yee him therewith. Thus farre did stretchThe woordes of Ajax. At the ende whereof there did ensewA muttring of the souldiers, till Laertis sonne the prewStood up, and raysed soberly his eyliddes from the ground (On which he had a little whyle them pitched in a stound)And looking on the noblemen who longd his woordes to heereHe thus began with comly grace and sober pleasant cheere:My Lordes, if my desyre and yours myght erst have taken place,It should not at this present tyme have beene a dowtfull cace, What person hath most ryght to this great pryse for which wee stryve.Achilles should his armour have, and wee still him alyve.Whom sith that cruell destinie to both of us denyes,(With that same woord as though he wept, he wypte his watry eyes)What wyght of reason rather ought to bee Achilles heyre,Than he through whom to this your camp Achilles did repayre?Alonly let it not avayle sir Ajax heere, that heeIs such a dolt and grossehead, as he shewes himself to beeNe let my wit (which ay hath done you good, O Greekes) hurt mee.But suffer this mine eloquence (such as it is) which now Dooth for his mayster speake, and oft ere this hath spoke for yow,Bee undisdeynd. Let none refuse his owne good gifts he brings.For as for stocke and auncetors, and other such like thingsWherof our selves no fownders are, I scarcely dare them grauntTo bee our owne. But forasmuch as Ajax makes his vaunt To bee the fowrth from Jove: even Jove the founder is alsoOf my house: and than fowre descents I am from him no mo.Laertes is my father, and Arcesius his, and heeBegotten was of Jupiter. And in this pedegreeIs neyther any damned soule, nor outlaw as yee see. Moreover by my moothers syde I come of Mercuree,Another honor to my house. Thus both by fathers sydeAnd moothers (as you may perceyve) I am to Goddes alyde.But neyther for bycause I am a better gentlemanThen Ajax by the moothers syde, nor that my father can Avouch himself ungiltye of his brothers blood, doo IThis armour clayme. Wey you the case by merits uprightly,Provyded no prerogatyve of birthryght Ajax beare,For that his father Telamon, and Peleus brothers were.Let only prowesse in this pryse the honour beare away. Or if the case on kinrid or on birthryght seeme to stay,His father Peleus is alive, and Pyrrhus eeke his sonne.What tytle then can Ajax make? This geere of ryght should wooneTo Phthya, or to Scyros Ile. And Tewcer is as wellAchilles uncle as is hee. Yit dooth not Tewcer mell. And if he did, should hee obteyne? Well, sith the cace dooth restOn tryall which of us can prove his dooings to bee best,I needes must say my deedes are mo than well I can expresse:Yit will I shew them orderly as neere as I can gesse.Foreknowing that her sonne should dye, the Lady Thetis hid Achilles in a maydes attyre. By which fyne slyght shee didAll men deceyve, and Ajax too. This armour in a packeWith other womens tryflyng toyes I caryed on my backe,A bayte to treyne a manly hart. Appareld like a maydAchilles tooke the speare and sheeld in hand, and with them playd. Then sayd I: O thou Goddesse sonne, why shouldst thou bee afraydTo raze great Troy, whoose overthrowe for thee is onely stayd?And laying hand uppon him I did send him (as you see)To valeant dooings meete for such a valeant man as hee.And therfore all the deedes of him are my deedes. I did wound King Teleph with his speare, and when he lay uppon the ground,I was intreated with the speare to heale him safe and sound.That Thebe lyeth overthrowne, is my deede. You must thinkI made the folk of Tenedos and Lesbos for to shrink.Both Chryse and Cillas, Phebus townes, and Scyros I did take. And my ryght hand Lyrnessus walles to ground did levell make.I gave you him that should confound (besydes a number mo)The valeant Hector. Hector, that our most renowmed fo,Is slayne by mee. This armour heere I sue agein to haveThis armour by the which I found Achilles. I it gave Achilles whyle he was alive: and now that he is goneI clayme it as myne owne agein. What tyme the greefe of oneHad perst the harts of all the Greekes, and that our thousand sayleAt Awlis by Ewboya stayd, bycause the wyndes did fayle,Continewing eyther none at all or cleene ageinst us long, And that our Agamemnon was by destnyes overstrongCommaunded for to sacrifyse his giltlesse daughter toDiana, which her father then refusing for to dooWas angry with the Godds themselves, and though he were a kingContinued also fatherlyke: by reason, I did bring His gentle nature to relent for publike profits sake.I must confesse (whereat his grace shall no displeasure take)Before a parciall judge I undertooke a ryght hard cace.Howbeeit for his brothers sake, and for the royall maceCommitted, and his peoples weale, at length he was content To purchace prayse wyth blood. Then was I to the moother sent,Who not perswaded was to bee, but compast with sum guyle.Had Ajax on this errand gone, our shippes had all this whyleLyne still there yit for want of wynd. Moreover I was sentTo Ilion as ambassadour. I boldly thither went, And entred and behilld the Court, wherin there was as thenGreat store of princes, Dukes, Lords, knyghts, and other valeant men.And yit I boldly nerethelesse my message did at largeThe which the whole estate of Greece had given mee erst in charge.I made complaint of Paris, and accusde him to his head. Demaunding restitution of Queene Helen that same stedAnd of the bootye with her tane. Both Priamus the kingAnd eeke Antenor his alye the woordes of mee did sting.And Paris and his brothers, and the resdew of his trayneThat under him had made the spoyle, could hard and scarce refrayne There wicked hands. You, Menelay, doo know I doo not feyne.And that day was the first in which wee joyntly gan susteyneA tast of perrills, store whereof did then behind remayne.

It would bee overlong to tell eche profitable thingThat during this long lasting warre I well to passe did bring, By force as well as pollycie. For after that the furstEncounter once was overpast, our emnyes never durstGive battell in the open feeld, but hild themselves withinTheyr walles and bulwarks till the tyme the tenth yeere did begin,Now what didst thou of all that whyle, that canst doo nought but streeke? Or to what purpose servedst thou? For if thou my deedes seeke,I practysd sundry pollycies to trappe our foes unware:I fortifyde our Camp with trench which heretofore lay bare:I hartned our companions with a quiet mynd to beareThe longnesse of the weery warre: I taught us how wee were Bothe to bee fed and furnished: and to and fro I wentTo places where the Counsell thought most meete I should bee sent.Behold the king deceyved in his dreame by false pretenceOf Joves commaundement, bade us rayse our seedge and get us hence.The author of his dooing so may well bee his defence. Now Ajax should have letted this, and calld them backe ageineTo sacke the towne of Troy. He should have fought with myght and maine.Why did he not restreyne them when they ready were to go?Why tooke he not his swoord in hand? why gave he not as thoSum counsell for the fleeting folk to follow at the brunt? In fayth it had a tryfle beene to him that ay is woontSuch vaunting in his mouth to have. But he himself did flyAs well as others. I did see, and was ashamed, I,To see thee when thou fledst, and didst prepare so cowardlyTo sayle away. And thereuppon I thus aloud did cry: What meene yee, sirs? what madnesse dooth you move to go to shippeAnd suffer Troy as good as tane, thus out of hand to slippe?What else this tenth yeere beare yee home than shame? with such like woordAnd other, (which the eloquence of sorrowe did avoord,)I brought them from theyr flying shippes. Then Agamemnon calld Toogither all the capteines who with feare were yit appalld.But Ajax durst not then once creake. Yit durst Thersites beeSo bold as rayle uppon the kings, and he was payd by meeFor playing so the sawcye Jacke. Then stood I on my toesAnd to my fearefull countrymen gave hart ageinst theyr foes. And shed new courage in theyr mynds through talk that fro mee goes.From that tyme foorth what ever thing hath valeantly atcheevedBy this good fellow beene, is myne, whoo him from flyght repreeved.And now to touche thee: which of all the Greekes commendeth thee?Or seeketh thee? But Diomed communicates with mee His dooings, and alloweth mee, and thinkes him well apaydTo have Ulysses ever as companion at the brayd.And sumwhat woorth you will it graunt (I trow) alone for meeOut of so many thousand Greekes by Diomed pikt to bee.No lot compelled mee to go, and yit I setting lyght As well the perrill of my foes as daunger of the nyght,Killd Dolon who about the selfsame feate that nyght did stray,That wee went out for. But I first compelld him to bewrayAll things concerning faythlesse Troy, and what it went about.When all was learnd, and nothing left behynd to harken out, I myght have then come home with prayse. I was not so content.Proceeding further to the Camp of Rhesus streyght I went,And killed bothe himself and all his men about his tent.And taking bothe his chariot and his horses which were whyght,Returned home in tryumph like a conquerour from fyght. Denye you mee the armour of the man whoose steedes the foRequyred for his playing of the spye a nyght, and soMay Ajax bee more kynd to mee than you are. What should IDeclare unto you how my sword did waste ryght valeantlySarpedons hoste of Lycia? I by force did overthrowe Alastor, Crome, and Ceranos, and Haly on a rowe.Alcander, and Noemon too, and Prytanis besyde,And Thoon and Theridamas, and Charops also dydeBy mee, and so did Ewnomos enforst by cruell fate.And many mo in syght of Troy I slew of bacer state. There also are (O countrymen) about mee woundings, whichThe place of them make beawtyfull. See heere (his hand did twichHis shirt asyde) and credit not vayne woordes. Lo heere the bristThat alwayes to bee one in your affayres hath never mist.And yit of all this whyle no droppe of blood hath Ajax spent Uppon his fellowes. Woundlesse is his body and unrent.But what skills that, as long as he is able for to vauntHe fought against bothe Troy and Jove to save our fleete? I grauntHe did so. For I am not of such nature as of spyghtWell dooings to deface: so that he chalendge not the ryght Of all men to himself alone, and that he yeeld to meeSum share, whoo of the honour looke a partener for to bee.Patroclus also having on Achilles armour, sentThe Trojans and theyr leader hence, to burne our navye bent.And yit thinks hee that none durst meete with Hector saving hee, Forgetting bothe the king, and eeke his brother, yea and mee.Where hee himself was but the nyneth, appoynted by the king,And by the fortune of his lot preferd to doo the thing.But now for all your valeantnesse, what Issue had I prayYour combate? Shall I tell? Forsoothe, that Hector went his way And had no harme. Now wo is mee how greeveth it my hartTo think uppon that season when the bulwark of our partAchilles dyde. When neyther teares, nor greef, nor feare could makeMee for to stay, but that uppon theis shoulders I did take,I say uppon theis shoulders I Achilles body tooke, And this same armour claspt theron, which now to weare I looke.Sufficient strength I have to beare as great a weyght as this,And eeke a hart wherein regard of honour rooted is.Think you that Thetis for her sonne so instantly besoughtSir Vulcane this same heavenly gift to give her, which is wrought With such exceeding cunning, to th'entent a souldier thatHath neyther wit nor knowledge should it weare? He knowes not whatThe things ingraven on the sheeld doo meene. Of Ocean se,Of land, of heaven, and of the starres no skill at all hath he.The Beare that never dyves in sea he dooth not understand, The Pleyads, nor the Hyads, nor the cities that doo standUppon the earth, nor yit the swoord that Orion holdes in hand.He seekes to have an armour of the which he hath no skill.And yit in fynding fault with mee bycause I had no willTo follow this same paynfull warre and sought to shonne the same, And made it sumwhat longer tyme before I thither came,He sees not how hee speakes reproch to stout Achilles name.For if to have dissembled in this case, yee count a cryme,Wee both offenders bee. Or if protracting of the tymeYee count blame woorthye, yit was I the tymelyer of us twayne. Achilles loving moother him, my wyfe did mee deteyne.The former tyme was given to them, the rest was given to yow.And therefore doo I little passe although I could not nowDefend my fault, sith such a man of prowesse, birth and fameAs was Achilles, was with mee offender in the same. But yit was he espyed by Ulysses wit, but natUlysses by sir Ajax wit. And lest yee woonder atThe rayling of this foolish dolt at mee, hee dooth objectReproche to you. For if that I offended to detectSir Palamed of forged fault, could you without your shame Arreyne him, and condemne him eeke to suffer for the same?But neyther could sir Palamed excuse him of the crymeSo heynous and so manifest: and you your selves that tymeNot onely his indytement heard, but also did beholdHis deed avowched to his face by bringing in the gold.