Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root.

[Exit Pandarus.

merry Greeks!

Troi. Hear me, my love; be thou but true of heart

Cre. I true! how now? what wicked Deem is this?

Troi. Nay, we must use expoftulation kindly,
For it is parting from us :---

I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee:
For I will throw my Glove to Death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart;
But, be thou true, fay I, to fashion in
My fequent proteftation: be thou true,
And I will fee thee.

Cre. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers As infinite, as imminent: but, I'll be true.

Troi. And I'll grow friend with danger.

this fleeve.

Wear

Cre. And you this glove. When fhall I fee you? Troi. I will corrupt the Grecian Centinels

To give thee nightly vifitation.

But yet be true.

Cre. O heav'ns! be true, again?

Troi Hear, why I fpeak it, love:

The Grecian youths are full of fubtle qualities, They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature Flowing, and fwelling o'er with arts and exercife; How novelties may move, and parts with perfonAlas, a kind of godly jealoufie

(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous fin)

Makes me afraid.

Cre. O heav'ns, you love me not!
Vol. VII.

G g

Troi.

Troi. Die I a villain then!

In this, I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit: I cannot fing,
Nor heel the high Lavolt; nor fweeten talk;
Nor play at fubtle games; fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are moft prompt and pregnant.
But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a ftill and dumb-difcourfive Devil,
That tempts moft cunningly but be not tempted.
Cre. Do you think, I will?

Troi. No.

But fomething may be done, that we will not:
And fometimes we are devils to our felves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Prefuming on their changeful potency.
Eneas. [within.] Nay, good my lord,-
Troi. Come, kifs, and let us part.
Paris. [within.] Brother Troilus,

Troi. Good brother, come you hither,
And bring Eneas and the Grecian with you.
Cre. My lord, will You be true?

Troi. Who I? alas, it is my Vice, my fault: While others fish, with craft, for great opinion; 1, with great truth, catch meer fimplicity. While fome 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.

S

CEN

E VII.

Enter Æneas, Paris, and Diomedes.
Welcome, Sir Diomede; here is the lady,
Whom for Antenor we deliver you.

At the Port (lord) I'll give her to thy hand,
And by the way poffefs thee what she is.
Entreat her fair; and by my soul, fair Greek,

If e'er thou ftand at mercy of my fword;
Name Creffid, and thy life fhall be as fafe
As Priam is in Ilion.

Dio. Lady Creffid,

So please you, fave the thanks this Prince expects:
The luftre in your eye, heav'n in your cheek,
Pleads you fair ufage; and to Diomede

You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
Troi. Grecian, thou doft not use me courteously,
To fhame the zeal of my petition towards thee,
By praifing her. I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She is as far high-foaring o'er thy praises,
As thou unworthy to be call'd her fervant.
I charge thee, ufe her well, even for my Charge)
For by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
(Tho' the great bulk Achilles be thy guard)
I'll cut thy throat.

Dio. Oh, be not mov'd, prince Troilus.
Let me be privileg'd by my place and meffage,
To be a Speaker free. When I am hence,
I'll answer to my lift: and know, my 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.

Troi. Come, to the Port-I'll tell thee, Diomede, This Brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. Lady, give me your hand-and, as we walk,

6 To fhame the SEAL of my petition tow'rds thee, By praifing her.] To shame the feal of a petition is nonfenfe. Shakespear wrote,

To fhame the ZEAL

and the fenfe is this: Grecian, you use me difcourteoufly; you fee, I am a paffionate lover, by my petition to you; and therefore you fhould not fhame the zeal of it, by promifing to do what I require of you, for the fake of her beauty: when, if you had good manners, or a fenfe of a lover's delicacy, you would have promifed to do it in compaffion to his pangs and sufferings.

To our own felves bend we our needful talk.

Par. Hark, Hector's trumpet!

[Sound trumpet.

Ene. How have we spent this morning? The Prince muft think me tardy and remifs, That fwore to ride before him in the field.

Par. 'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, come, to field with him.

Dio. Let me make ready ftrait.

Ene. Yea with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels:
The Glory of our Troy doth this day lye
On his fair worth, and fingle chivalry.

[Exeunt.

VIII.

Changes to the Grecian Camp.

Enter Ajax armed, Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulyffes, Neftor, &c.

Aga. HERE art thou in appointment fresh and

fair,

Anticipating time with starting courage.
Give with thy Trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajax, that th' appalled air
May pierce the head of the great Combatant,
And hale him thither.

Ajax. Trumpet, there's my purfe;

Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe:
Blow, villain, till thy fphered bias cheek

Out-fwell the cholick of puft Aquilon:

Come, ftretch thy cheft, and let thy eyes spout

blood:

Thou blow't for Hector.

Uy. No trumpet answers.

Achil. 'Tis but early day.

Aga.

Aga. Is not yond' Diomede with Calchas' daughter?
Uly. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate;
He rifes on his toe; that spirit of his

In aspiration lifts him from the earth.

Enter Diomede, with Creffida.

Aga. Is this the lady Cressida?

Dio. Ev'n fhe.

Age. Moft dearly welcome to the Greeks, fweet
lady.

Neft. Our General doth falute you with a kiss.
Ulyf. Yet is the kindness but particular;
'Twere better, fhe were kiss'd in general.
Neft. And very courtly counfel: I'll begin.
So much for Neftor.

Achil. I'll take that winter from your lips, fair lady:
Achilles bids you welcome.

Men. I had good argument for kiffing once.
Patr. But that's no argument for kiffing now:
For thus pop'd Paris in his hardiment,
And parted, thus, you and your argument.

Ulyf. O deadly gall, and theme of all our fcorns,
For which we lose our heads to gild his horns!
Patr. The first was Menelaus' kifs--this mine-
Patroclus kiffes you.

Men. O, this is trim.

Pair. Paris and I kifs evermore for him.

Men. I'll have my kifs, Sir: lady, by your leave,
Cre. In kiffing do you render or receive?

Patr. Both take and give.

Cre. I'll make my match to live,

The kiss you take is better than you give;
Therefore no kifs.-

Men. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.
Cre. You are an odd man, give even, or give none.
Men. An odd man, lady? every man is odd.