Even in the birth of our own labouring breath: With distinct breath and consign'd9 kisses to them, He fumbles up into a loose adieu; And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears. Ene. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready? Tro. Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the Genius so Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die.Bid them have patience; she shall come anon. Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root! [Exit PANDARus. Cres. I must then to the Greeks? Tro. No remedy. Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again? Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of heart, Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem2 is this? Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us : I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee; 9 Sealed.. ■ Interrupted. 2 Surmise. 3 Spot. But be thou true, say I, to fashion in My sequent4 protestation; be thou true, Cres. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true. Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve. Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you? Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, To give thee nightly visitation. But yet, be true. Cres. O heavens !-be true again? Tro. Hear why I speak it, love; The Grecian youths are full of quality; 5 They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature flowing, And swelling o'er with arts and exercise; How novelty may move, and parts with person, Alas, a kind of godly jealousy (Which I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,) Makes me afeard. Cres. O heavens! you love me not. Tro. Die I a villain then! In this I do not call your faith in question, There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil, 4 Following. 5 Highly accomplished. 6 A dance. Cres. Do you think I will? Tro. No. But something may be done, that we will not: Ene. [Within.] Nay, good my lord, Tro. Come, kiss; and let us part. Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus! Tro. Good brother, come you hither; And bring Æneas, and the Grecian, with you. Cres. My lord, will you be true? Tro. Who I? alas, it is my vice, my fault: While others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit Is-plain, and true, there's all the reach of it. Enter ENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, and DIOMEDES. Welcome, sir Diomed! here is the lady, At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand; 8 And, by the way, possess thee what she is.. Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, Dio. Fair lady Cressid, 1 So please you, save the thanks this prince expects: Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously. Dio. O, be not mov'd, prince Troilus: Let me be privileg'd by my place, and message, To be a speaker free; when I am hence, I'll answer to my lust:9 And know you, lord, I'll nothing do on charge: To her own worth She shall be priz'd; but that you say-be't so, I'll speak it in my spirit and honour,-no. Tro. Come, to the port.-I'll tell thee, Diomed, This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.Lady give me your hand; and, as we walk, To our own selves bend we our needful talk. [Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMED. [Trumpet heard. Par. Hark! Hector's trumpet. Ene. How have, we spent this morning! The prince must think me tardy and remiss, 9 Pleasure, will. Par. 'Tis Troilus'fault: Come, come, to field with him. Dei. Let us make ready straight. Ene. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity, SCENE V. The Grecian Camp. Lists set out. [Exeunt. Enter AJAX armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and Others. Agam. Here art thou in appointment' fresh and fair, Anticipating time with starting courage. Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, May pierce the head of the great combatant, Ajax. Thou, trumpet, there's my purse. Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe: Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek Out-swell the colick of puff'd Aquilon: Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood; Thou blow'st for Hector. Ulyss. No trumpet answers. Achil. [Trumpet sounds. "Tis but early days. Agam. Is not yon Diomed, with Calchas' daughter? |