IN Troy, there lies the fcene: from Ifles of Greece
The Princes orgillous, their high blood chaf'd,
Have to the Port of Athens fent their ships,
Fraught with the ministers and inftruments
Of cruel war. Sixty and nine, that wore
Their Crownets regal, from th' Athenian bay
Put forth toward Phrygia, and their vow is made
To ranfack Troy; within whofe ftrong Immures,
The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' Queen,

With wanton Paris fleeps; and That's the Quarrel.
To Tenedos they come

And the deep-drawing Barks do there difgorge
Their warlike fraughtage. Now on Dardan plains,
The fresh, and yet unbruifed, Greeks do pitch
Their brave Pavillions. Priam's fix Gates i'th' City,
(Dardan, and Thymbria, Ilia, Scæa, Troian,
And Antenorides,) with mafly Staples

I

And correfponfive and fulfilling bolts,

Sperre up the fons of Troy..

Now expectation tickling skittish fpirits

On one and other fide, Trojan and Greek,
Sets all on hazard. And bither am I come
A Prologue arm'd, (but not in confidence
Of Author's pen, or Altor's voice; but fuited
In like conditions as our Argument ;)
To tell you, (fair Beholders) that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,
'Ginning i'th middle: Starting thence away,
To what may be digefted in a Play.

Like, or find fault,do, as your pleasures are ;
Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.

I Stirre up the fons of Troy-] Vulg. Corrected, as in the text, by Mr. Theobald.

Dramatis

Helen, Wife to Menelaus, in Love with Paris.
Andromache, Wife to Hector.

Caffandra, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetefs.

Creffida, Daughter to Calchas, in love with Troilus.

Alexander, Creffida's Man.

Boy, Page to Troilus.

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, with other Attendants.

SCENE, Troy; and the Grecian Camp, before it.

ALL here my varlet; I'll unarm again.
Why fhould I war without the walls of
Troy,

That find fuch cruel battle here within? Each Trojan, that is mafter of his heart, Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none.

Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended?

Troi. The Greeks are ftrong, and skilful to their ftrength,

1 Troilus and Creffida.] Before this play of Troilus and Creffida, printed in 1609, is a bookseller's preface, fhewing that first impreffion to have been before the play had been acted, and that it was published without Shakespear's knowledge, from a copy that had fall'n into the bookfeller's hands. Mr. Dryden thinks this one of the first of our author's plays: but on the contrary, it may be judged from the forementioned preface that it was one of his laft; and the great number of observations both moral and politick, (with which this piece is crowded more than any other of his) feems to confirm my opinion. Mr. Pope. • Fierce

Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenefs valiant. • But I am weaker than a woman's tear,

• Tamer than fleep, fonder than ignorance;
• Lefs valiant than the virgin in the night,
• And skill-lefs as unpractis'd infancy.

Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my I'll not meddle nor make any farther. He, that part, will have a cake out of the wheat, muft needs tarry the grinding.

Troi. Have I not tarried?

Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the boulting.

Troi. Have I not tarried?

Pan. Ay, the boulting; but you must tarry the leav'ning.

Troi. Still have I tarried.

Pan. Ay, to the leav'ning: but here's yet in the word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips.

Troi. Patience herself, what Goddess e'er fhe be, Doth leffer blench at fufferance, than I do.

At Priam's royal table do I fit

;

And when fair Crefid comes into my thoughts,
So, traitor!-when she comes? when is fhe thence?
Pan. Well, fhe look'd yesternight fairer than ever I
faw her look, or any woman elfe.

Troi. I was about to tell thee, when my heart,
As wedged with a figh, would rive in twain,
Left Hector or my father should perceive me;
I have (as when the fun doth light a ftorm)
Buried this figh in wrinkle of a fmile:

But forrow, that is couch'd in feeming gladness,
Is like that mirth Fate turns to fudden fadness.

2

fonder than ignorance ;] Fonder, for more childish.

Pan