Francis Davison, "Aiax," in A Poetical Rapsodie (London: William Stansby for Roger Jackson, 1611):

THis sword is mine, or will Laertes Sonne
Win this as he Achilles armour wonne?
This sword which you O Greeks oft bath'd haue known
In Troian blood, ile now bath in mine owne.
This fearelesse breast which all mine enemies fierce
Haue left vnpierst, now I my selfe will pierce.
So men shall say, Aiax to none did yeeld
But t'Aiax selfe, and Aiax, Aiax kild. (58)

Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy (Oxford: John Lichfield and James Short for Henry Cripps, 1621):

Anger, a perturbation, which carries the spirits outwards, and prepares the body to melancholy, and madnesse it selfe....From a disposition, to an habit, for there is no difference betwixt a mad man, and an angry man, in the time of his fit....They are voide of reason, inexorable, blinde, and like beasts and monsters for the time, say and doe they know not what, curse, sweare, raile, fight, and what not? what can a mad man doe more? as he said in the comedy, Iracundi‚ non sum apud me [Terence]. If these fits be immoderate, or continue long, or freque~t, without doubt they prouoke madnes....Aiax had no other cause of his madnesse. (141-42)

Thomas Heywood, Gynaikeion (London: Adam Islip, 1624):

Aiax contended With slye Vlysses, for his armes and shield:
Aiax disgrac't expires, and in the field:
Where his blood dropt a purple Hicinth grew,
In memorie that Aiax, Aiax slew. (55)

Thomas Heywood, The Iron Age (London: Nicholas Okes, 1632):

  Hect.  Now Greekes let me behold my Champion.
  Aiax.  Tis I, thy cousen Aiax Telamon.
  Hec.  And Cuz, by Ioue thou hast a braue aspect,
It cheeres my blood to looke on such a foe:
I would there ran none of our Troian blood
Inall thy veines, or that it were diuided
From that which thou receiuest from Telamon:
Were I assured our blood possest one side,
And that the other; by Olimpicke Ioue,
I'd thrill my Iauelin at the Gresian moysture,
And spare the Troian blood: Aiax I loue it
Too deare to shed it.

Alarum, in this combate both hauing lost their swords and Shields. Hector takes vp a great peece of a Rocke, and casts at Aiax; who teares a young Tree vp by the rootes, and assailes Hector, at which they are parted by both armes.

  Ther.  where's the Armour,
The prize for which the crafty Fex Vlisses,
And mad Bull Aiax, must this day contend?
  Aiax.  Me thinkes graue Heroes, you should seeke an Aiax
To weare these Armes, not let these Armes be sought
By Aiax.

Enter ouer the Stage all the Grecian Princes, courting and applauding Vlisses, not minding Aiax.

  Aia.  Not looke on Aiax? Aiax Telamon,
Hee that at once sau'd all your ships from fire,
Not looke on me? ha? come my fine cutting blade,
Make mee immortall: liuely fountaine sprout,
Sprout out, yet with more life, braue glorious streame
Growe to a Tyde, and sinke the Grecian fleete
In seas of Aiax blood: so ho, so ho.
Lure backe my soule againe, which in amaze
Gropes for a perch to rest on: Heart, great heart
Swell bigger yet and split, know gods, know men,
Furies, inraged Spirits, Tortures all,
Aiax by none could but by Aiax fall.
He kills himselfe.