Troi. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their

strength,

1

Fierce to their fkill, and to their fierceness 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 part, I'll not meddle or make any further. He, that 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 herfelf, what Goddess ere fhe be, Doth leffer blench at fufferance than I do.

At Priam's royal table do I fit,

And when fair Creffid comes into my thoughts,
So, traitor!-when the comes! When is the thence?
Pan. Well, the 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,

2 -fonder than ignorance ;] Fonder, for more childish.

WARBURTON. 3 And Skill-lefs, &c.] Mr. Dryden, in his alteration of this play,

has taken this speech as it stands, except that he has changed illlefs to artless, not for the better, becaule kill-lefs refers to fill and Jkilful.

Left

Left Heller or my father should perceive me,
I have, as when the fun doth light a ftorm,
Buried the figh in wrinkle of a fmile;

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

Pan. An her hair were not fomewhat darker than Helen's-well, go to, there were no more comparison between the women.But, for my part, fhe is my kinfwoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her. But I would, fomebody had heard her talk yefterday, as I did. I will not difpraife your fifter Caffandra's wit, but,

Troi. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus!
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep

They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Crefid's love. Thou answer'ft, fhe is fair;
Pour it in the open ulcer of my heart

Her eyes, her hair; her cheek, her gait, her voice
Handleft in thy difcourfeO that! her hand!
In whofe comparison, all whites are ink

Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure
The cignet's down is harsh, and spirit of fenfe

1

4 — and SPIRIT of fenfe Hard as the palm of p'oughman.-] Read, and (SPITE of fenfe) in a parenthefis. The meaning is, though our fenfes contradict it never fo much, yet the cignet's down is not only harth, when compar'd to the foftnefs of Crefid's hand, but hard as the band of ploughman, Spite, I fuppofe, was first corrupted to Sprite, and from thence arofe fpirit.

WARBURTON, I think this paffage more forcible and elegant without an alteration. In comparison with

.

Creffid's band, fays he, the fpirit
of fenfe, the utmost degree, the
moft exquifite power of fenfibility,
which implies a foft hand, fince
the fenfe of touching, as Scaliger
fays in his Exercitations, refides
chiefly in the fingers, is hard as
the callous and infenfible palm of
the ploughman, Hanmer reads,

-to th' fpirit of fenfe.

It is not proper to make a lover profefs to praise his mistress in fpite of fenfe, for tho' he often does it in spite of the fenfe of others, his own fenfes are fubdued to his defires.

Hard

Hard as the palm of ploughman. This thou tell'st me,
As true thou tell'ft me, when I fay, I love her,
But faying thus, inftead of oil and balm,

Thou lay'ft, in every gafh that love hath given me,
The knife that made it.

Pan. I speak no more than truth.

Troi. Thou doft not speak fo much.

Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as the is, if the be fair, 'tis the better for her; an fhe be not, ' fhe has the mends in her own hands.

Troi. Good Pandarus; how now, Pandarus?

Pan. I have had my labour for my travel, ill thought on of her, and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.

Troi. What art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?

Pan. Becaufe fhe is kin to me, therefore fhe's not fo fair as Helen; and fhe were not kin to me, fhe would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not, an fhe were a black-a-moor; 'tis all

one to me.

Troi. Say I, fhe is not fair?

Pan. I do not care whether you do or no, fhe's a fool to stay behind her father. Let her to the Greeks, And fo I'll tell her the next time I fee her. For

A

part, I'll meddle nor make no more i' th' matter.

Troi. Pandarus

Pan. Not I.

Troi, Sweet Pandarus

my

Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me. I will leave all as I found it, and there's an end. [Exit Pandarus. [Sound Alarm. Troi. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude

founds !

She has the mends.] She may mend her complexion by the affiftance of cosmeticks.

Fools

Fools on both fides.Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument,

It is too ftarv'd a fubject for my fword.

But Pandarus-O Gods! how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Creffid, but by Pandar;
And he's as teachy to be woo'd to wooe,
As fhe is stubborn-chafte against all fute.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Crefid is, what Pandar, and what we.
Her bed is India, there fhe lies, a pearl;
Between our Ilium, and where fhe refides,
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself the merchant; and this failing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

Ene. How now, Prince Troilus? wherefore not a field?

Troi. Because not there. This woman's answer forts, For womanish it is to be from thence.

What news, Æneas, from the field to day?

Ene. That Paris is return'd home, and hurt.
Trai. By whom, Æneas?

Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a fcar to fcorn;

Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.

[Alarm. Ene. Hark, what good fport is out of town today?

Troi. Better at home, if would I might, were mayBut to the sport abroad-are you bound thither?

Ene. In all fwift hafte.

Troi. Come, go we then together.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

Changes to a publick Street, near the Walls of Troy.

Cre.

Enter Creffida, and Alexander, her Servant.

W

HO were those went by?

Serv. Queen Hecuba and Helen.

Cre. And whither go they?

Serv. Up to th' eastern tower,

Whose height commands as fubject all the vale,
To fee the fight. Hector, whose patience
Is as a Virtue fix'd, to day was mov'd,
He chid Andromache, and ftruck his armorer;
And like as there were husbandry in war,
7 Before the Sun rofe, he was harness'd light,

And

had he feen the right reading here given, where his thought is fo much better and nobler expreffed. WARBURTON.

I think the present text may ftand. Hector's patience was as a virtue not variable and accidental, but fixed and conftant. If I would alter it, it should be thus, Hector, whofe patience

Is all a virtue fix?dAll, in old English, is the inten five or enforcing particle.

7 Before the Sun rofe, he was

harneft light,] Why harnest light? Does the poet mean, that Hector had put on light armour? Or that he was Sprightly in his arms, even before fun-rife? Or is a conundrum aim'd at, in Sun rofe, and harnest ligh? A very flight alteration makes all these

con