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Dramatis Perfonæ.

Deiphobus, TROJANS.
A bastard Son of Priam.


Helen, Wife to Menelaus, in love with Paris,
Andromache, Wife to Hector.
Caffandra, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess.
Cressida, 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.

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A C T I.
SCENE, the Palace in Troy.

Enter Pandarus and Troilus.

ALL here my varlet ; I'll unarm again.

Why should I war without the walls of Troy, с

That find such cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan, that is master of his heart,

Let him to field ; Troilus, alas ! hath none.
Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended ?
Troi. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their

Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant.
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance ;
Less 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 nor make any farther. He, that will have a cake out of the wheat, must 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 the be,
Doth lesser blench at sufferance, than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I fit,
And when fair Cressida comes into my thoughts,
So, traitor !—when she comes? when is the thence ?

Pan. Well, she look’d yesternight fairer than ever I saw 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 sun doth light a storm)
Euried this figh in wrinkle of a smile:
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
Is like that mirth Fate turns to sudden sadness.

Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's--well, go to, there were no more comparison between the women. But, for my part, she is my kinswoman ; I would not (as they term it) praise her but I wauld, fomebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did : I will not dispraise your fifter Casandra'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, she is fair;
Pour'st in the

ulcer of


heart Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gate, her voice ; Handleft in thy discourse -O that! her hand ! (In whose comparison, all whites are ink Writing their own reproach) to whose soft seizure The cignet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman. This thou tell’it me ;


(As, true thou tell’It me ;) when I say, I love her:
But saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'st, in every galh that love hath given me,
The knife that made it.

Pan. I speak no more than truth.
Troi. Thou doit not speak so much.

Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is, if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she 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. Because she is kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen; and the were not kin to me, she 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, she is not fair ?

Pan. I do not care whether you do or no, she's a fool to ftay behind her father: let her to the Greeks, and so I'll tell her the next time I see her : for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i'th' matter.

Troi. Pandarus,
Pan. Not I.
Troi. Sweet Pandarus,-

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 lounds! Fools on both sides. -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 subject for my sword : But Pandarus O Gods! how do you plague me! I cannot come to Cresid, but by Pandar; And he's as teachy to be woo'd to wooe, As she is stubborn-chaste against all sute. Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, What Crefid is, what Pandar, and what we :

Her bed is India, there she lies, a pearl :
Between our Ilium, and where she resides,
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.

Alarm.] Enter Æneas.
Æne. How now, Prince Troilus: wherefore not i'th' 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?

Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Troi. By whom, Æneas?
Æne. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.

[Alarm. Æne. Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day ?

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

Æne. In all swift hafte.
Troi. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt.
SCENE changes to a publick Street, near the

Walls of Troy.
Enter Cressida, and Alexander, her Servanta
Cre. 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 subject all the vale,
'To see the fight. Heator, whose patience
Is, as the Virtue, fix'd, to day was inov'd :
He chid Andronache, and struck his armorer;
And like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the Sun rose, he was harness-dight, (2)


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(2) Before the Sun rose, be was harnest 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 Sun-rife ? Or is a


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