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man) let it sleep? a bugbear take him!
[One knocks. Cre. Did not I tell you ? 'would, he were knock'd o'th' head !--who's that at door?-good uncle, go and see !My Lord, come you again into my chamber ;
-you smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily. Troi. Ha, haCre. Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing. How earnestly they knock-pray you, come in, [ Knock. I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exe. Pan. Who's there? what's the matter? will
beat down the door ; how now? what's the matter :
Pan. Who's there ? my Lord Æneas ? by my troth, I knew you not; what news with you so early ?
Æne. Is not Prince Troilus here?
Æne. Come, he is here, my Lord, do not deny hiin. It doth import him much to speak with me.
Pan. Is he here, say you ? 'tis more than I know, I'll be sworn; for my own part, I came in late : what should he do here?
Æne. Pho!--nay, then :--come, come, you'll do him wrong, ere y’are aware : you'll be so true to him, to be false to him : do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither, go. [As Pandarus is going out,
Enter Troilus. Troi. How now? what's the matter? Æne. My Lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, My matter is so rash : there is at hand Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
jeering Sort of Tenderness, upon her having made wanton the Night with Troilus, as our Author expresies it in his Othello. He would fay, I think, in English-Poor Innocent ! Poor Fool ! ba't not slept to Night? These Appellations are very well answer'd by the Italian Word Capocchio: for Capocchio signifies the thick Head of a Club; and thence metaphorically, a Head of not much Brain,
Sot, Dul lard, heavy Gull.
The Grecian Diomede, and our Antenor
Troi. Is it concluded so?
Æne. By Priam, and the general State of Troy. They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
Troi. How my atchievements mock me!
[Exeunt. Enter Cressida to Pandarus. Pan. Is’t possible? no sooner got, but lost : the Devil take Antener! the young Prince will go mad : a plague upon Antenor ! I would, they had broke's neck.
Cre. How now? what's the matter? who was here? Pan. Ah, ali !
Cre. Why figh you so profoundly? where's my Lord? gone! tell ine, sweet uncle, what's the matter :
Pan. 'Would, I were as deep under the earth, as I am above!
Cre. O the Gods ! what's the matter?
Pan. Pr’ythee, get thee in ; 'would, thou hadít ne'er been born: I knew, thou wouldst be his death. O poor
The Secrets of Nature Have not more Gift in Taciturnity.) This is the Reading of both the Elder Folio's: but the first Verse manifestly halis, and betrays its being defective, Mr. Pope substitutes
The Secrets of Neighbour Pandar.' If this be a Reading ex fide Codicum as he profelles all his various Readings to be) it is founded on the Credit of fuch Copies, as it has not been my Fortune to meet with. I have ventur'd to make out the Verse thus;
The Secret'st Things of Nature, &c. i.e. the Arcana Naturæ, the Mysteries of Nature, of occult Philosophy, or of religious Ceremonies. Our Poet has Allusions of this Sort in leveral other Passages. 5
gentleman! a plague upon Antenor !
Cre. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees, I beseech you,
what's the matter? Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone: thou art chang'd for Antenor; thou must go to thy father, and be gone from Troilus : 'twill be his death ; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.
Cre. O you immortal Gods! I will not go.
Cre. I will not, uncle: I've forgot my father,
the very center of the earth, Drawing all to it.-I'll go and weep,
heart With sounding Troilus. I'll not go from Troy. · [Exe.
SCENE, before Pandarus's House. · Enter Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Deiphobus, Antenor,
and Diomedes. Par, T is great morning, and the hour prefixt
Of her Delivery to this valiant Greek Comes fast upon us : good my brother Troilus, (20)
Time and Deatb
Time, orce and death.
Time, Force, and Death, i. e. The Compullion of Fate, that, which the Latines called Sæva Necesitas. VOL. VII.
Tell you the Lady what she is to do,
Troi. Walk into her house:
Par. I know, what 'tis to love ;
(Exeunt. SCENE, an Apartment in Pandarus's House.
Enter Pandarus ånd Creffida.
Cre. Why tell you me of moderation ?
Pan, Here, here, here he comes, -a, sweet duck!
O heart, O heavy heart,
Why figh's thou without breaking ? where he answers again ;
Because thou can's not ease thy smart,
By friendship, nor by Speaking. There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse; we fee it, we see it. How now, lambs ?
Troi. Crejid, I love thee in so strange a purity, That the bleft Gods, as angry with my fancy,
(More bright in zeal than the devotion, which
Cre. Have the Gods envy ?
Troi. And suddenly: while injury of chance
Æneas within] My Lord, is the lady ready?
Troi. Hark! you are call’d. Some say, the Genius fo Cries, come, to him that instantly must die. Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my tears ? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root. (Exit Pandarus,
Cre. I must then to the Grecians ?
Cre. A woeful Crellid ’mongst the 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 expostulation kindly, For it is par
from us : I speak not; be thou true, as fearing thee :