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For I will throw my Glove to Death himself,
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. Wear this sleeve. Cre. And you this glove. When shall I see you : Troi. I will corrupt
the Grecian Centinels To give thee nightly visitation.
Troi. Hear, why I speak it, love :
Cre. O heav'ns, you love me not!
Troi. Die I a villain then !
merit : I cannot fing,
pregnant. But I can tell, that in each grace of these There lurks a ftill and dumb-discoursive Devil, That tempts moft cunningly : but be not tempted,
Cre. Do you think, I will ?
tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency.
Æneas within] Nay, good my Lord,
Troi. Good brother, come you hither, And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you.
Cre. My Lord, will you be true ?
Troi. Who I? alas, it is my Vice, my fault:
wit Is plain and true, there's all the reach of it.
Enter Æneas, Paris, and Diomedes.
Dio. Lady Cresid,
Troi. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,
(21) To Mame the Seal of my Petition tow'rds thee By praising ber.] There is great Room for hesitating at this Expres fion. To same the Seal of a Petition, carries no sensible Idea that I can find out. The Change of a single Letter makes Troilus's Complaint apt and reasonable; and the Sense is this: “ Grecian, you “ use me discourteously; you see, I am a passionate Lover, by my " Petition to you ; and therefore you should not shame the Zeal of “ it, by promising to do, what I require of you, for the Sake of “ her Beauty : when, if you had good Manners, or a Sense of a “ Lover's Delicacy, you would have promised to do it in Compassion to his Pangs and Sufferings,"
Mr. Warburton. R 3
For by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
Dio. Oh, be not mov'd, pince Troilus.
Troi. Come, to the Port -- I'll tell thee, Diomede,
[Sound trumpet Par. Hark, Helor's trumpet!
Æne. How have we spent this morning?
Par. 'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, came, to field with him.
Æne. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity
SCENE changes to the Grecian Camp.
Enter Ajax armed, Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus,
Menelaus, Ulysses, Neftor, &c. Aga. LJERE art thou in appointment frefh and fair, (22)
Anticipating time with starting courage. Give with thy Trumpet a loud note to Troj,
(22) Here art tbou in Appointment fresh and fair, Anticipating Time. With starting Courage, Give with tby Trumpet, &c.] I have alter'd the Pointing of this Passage for this Reason: The Poet seems to mean, that Ajax thew'd his starting Courage in coming into the Field before the Challenger.
Thou dreadful Ajax, that th' appalled air
Ajax. Trumpet, there's my purse ;
Ulys. No trumpet answers. Achil. 'Tis but early day. Aga. Is not yond' Diomede with Calchas' daughter? Ulyf. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait; He rises on his toe ; that fpirit of his In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
Enter Diomedes, with Cressida. Aga. Is this the lady Cresida ? Dio: Ev'n fhe. Aga. Moft dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady. Neft. Our General doth falute you with a kiss.
Ulys. Yet is the kindness but particular ; 'Twere better, she were kiss'd in general.
Neft. And very courtly counsel : I'll begin. So much for Neftor.
Achil. I'll take that winter from your lips, fair lady: Achilles bids
Patr. But that's no argument for kiffing now:
Ulys. O deadly gail, and theme of all our scorns,
Patr. The first was Menelaus' kiss — this mine Patroclus kisses
you. Men. O, this is trim. Patr. Paris and I kiss evermore for him. Alen. I'll have my kiss, Sir : lady, by your leave; Cre. In kissing 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 kiss.
Men. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one. Cre. You are an odd man, give ev’n, or give none. Men. An odd man, lady? every man is odd.
Cre. No, Paris is not; for you know, 'tis true,
Cre. You may.
Ulys. Why then, for Venus' fake, give me a kiss,
Cre. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due.
[Diomedes leads out Cressida. U!:f. Fy, fy, upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip : Nay, her foot fpeaks; her wanton fpirits look out At every joint, and motive of her body: Oh, these Encounterers! So glib of tongue, They give a Coasting welcome ere it comes; And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts To every tickliñ reader : set them down For fluttish Spoils of Opportunity, And Daughters of the Game. [Trumpet within. Enter Hector, Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Helenus, and
Attendants. All. The Trojans' trumpet ! Aga. Yonder comes the troop.
ne. Hail, all the State of Greece! what shall be done. To him that Victory commands ? Or do you purpose, A Vietor shall be known? will you, the Knights