Conftring'd in mafs by the almighty Sun, Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy. Troi. O Crefid! O falfe Creffid! false, false, false! Let all untruths ftand by thy ftained name, And they'll feem glorious. Ulyf. O, contain yourself: Your paffion draws ears hither. Enter Æneas. Ene. I have been feeking you this hour, my lord, Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy. Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home. Troi. Have with you, Prince; my courteous lord, adieu. Farewel, revolted fair: and, Diomede, Stand faft, and wear a castle on thy head! Troi. Accept distracted thanks. [Exeunt Troilus, Æneas, and Ulyffes: Ther. 'Would, I could meet that rogue Diomede, ! would croak like a raven: I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me any thing for the intel ligence of this whore: the parrot will do no more for an almond, than he for a commodious drab : letchery, letchery, ftill wars and letchery, nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil take them! [Exit. SCENE And. Changes to the Palace of Troy. Enter Hector and Andromache. WHEN was my lord so much ungently temper'd, To ftop his ears against admonishment? Helt. You train me to offend you; get you gone: And. My dreams will, fure, prove ominous to day. Enter Caffandra. Caf. Where is my brother Hector? And. Here, fifter, arm'd, and bloody in intent: Het. Ho! bid my trumpet found. Caf. No notes of fally, for the heav'ns, fweet brother. "They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd And. O! be perfwaded, do not count it holy To hurt by being juft; it were as lawful For us to count we give what's gain'd by thefts, Caf. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; Heat. 1 Het. Hold you ftill, I say; Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate; How now, young man; mean'ft thou to fight to day? [Exit Caffandra. Hect. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth: I am to day i' th' vein of chivalry : Let grow thy finews till their knots be strong, Hect. What vice is that? good Troilus, chide me Troi. When many times the caitiff Grecians fall, Ev'n in the fan and wind of your fair sword, You bid them rife, and live. Helt. O, 'tis fair play. Troi. Fools play, by Heaven, Hector. Troi. For love of all the Gods, Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mothers; 6 When mauy times the CAPTIVE Grecians fall,] This reading fuppofes Hector infulting over his captives, which is not Troilus's meaning: who is here fpeaking of Hector's actions in the field. Without doubt Shakespear wrote, When many times the caitiff Grecians fall, i. e. dastardly Grecians; a character natural for the speaker to give them, and juftified by his account of them. Hell. Het. Fie, favage, fie! Troi. Hector, thus 'tis in wars. Helt. Troilus, I would not have you fight to day. Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars Their eyes o'er-galled 7 with recourse of tears; Enter Priam and Caffandra. Caf. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him faft: He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy Stay, Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, Fall all together. Priam. Hector, come, go back: Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath had vifions; Caffandra doth foresee; and I myself Am, like a prophet, fuddenly enrapt To tell thee, that this day is ominous : Helt. Eneas is a-field, And I do ftand engag'd to many Greeks, Priam. But thou shalt not go. Helt. I must not break my faith: 7 with recourfe of tears;] i. e. tears that continue to courfe one another down the face. Caf. Caf. O, Priam, yield not to him. And. Do not, dear father. Helt. Andromache, I am offended with you. Upon the love you bear me, get you in. [Exit And: Troi. This foolish, dreaming, fuperftitious girl Makes all these bodements. Caf. O farewel, dear Hector: Look, how thou dieft; look, how thy eyes turn pale! Caf. Farewel: yet, foft: Hector, I take my leave; Thou do'ft thyself and all our Troy deceive. [Exit. Hect. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim : Go in and cheer the town, we'll forth and fight; Do deeds worth praife, and tell you them at night. Priam. Farewel: the Gods with fafety stand about thee! [Alarum. Troi. They're at it, hark: proud Diomede, believe, I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. Pan. Do you hear, my lord, do you hear? Pan. Here's a letter come from yond poor girl. Pan. A whorfon ptifick, a whorfon rafcally ptifick fo troubles me; and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing and what another, that I fhall leave you one o' these days; and I have a rheum in mine eyes too, and fuch an ach in my bones that unless a man were curft, |