Pan. Who's there? my lord Æneas? By my troth, I knew you not: What news with you fo early? Ene. Is not prince Troilus here?

Pan. Here! what fhould he do here?

Ene. Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny him; It doth import him much to speak with me.

Pan. Is he here, fay you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be fworn: For my own part, I came in late :What fhould he do here?

Ene. Who!- -nay, then :

Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are 'ware:
You'll be fo true to him, to be falfe to him:
Do not you know of him, but yet fetch him hither;
Go.

As PANDARUS is going out, enter TROILUS.
Troi. How now? what's the matter?
Ene. My lord, I scarce have leisure to falute you,
My matter is fo rafh: There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,

The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first facrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Creffida.

Troi. Is it concluded fo?

Ene. By Priam, and the general state of Troy : They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

:

Troi. How my achievements mock me!I will go meet them and, my lord Æneas, We met by chance; you did not find me here. Ene. Good, good, my lord; the fecrets of neigh[bour Pandar [Exeunt TROILUS, and NEAS.

Have not more gift in taciturnity.

Pan

Pan. Is't poffible? no fooner got, but loft? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke's neck!

Enter CRESSIDA.

Cre. How now? What is the matter? Who was
Pan. Ah, ah!
[here?
Cre. Why figh you fo profoundly? where's my
lord? gone?

Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth, as I am above!

Gre. O the gods!-what's the matter?

Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in; 'Would thou had'ft ne'er been born! I knew thou wouldst be his death: O poor gentleman!-A plague upon Antenor! Cre. Good uncle, I befeech 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 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. Pan. Thou must.

Cre. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father; I know no touch of confanguinity;

No kin, no love, no blood, no foul fo near me,
As the fweet Troilus.-O you gods divine!
Make Creffid's name the very crown of falfehood,
If ever the leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the ftrong bafe and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,

Drawing

Drawing all things to it.-I'll go in, and weep,Pan. Do, do.

Cre. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks;

Crack my clear voice with fobs, and break my heart With founding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Before PANDARUS' Houfe.

Enter PARIS, TROILUS, ENEAS, DIOMEDES, C.
Par. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek

Comes fast upon :-Good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And hafte her to the purpose.

Troi. Walk in to her house;
I'll bring her to the Grecian prefently:
And to his hand when I deliver her,

Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus

A priest, there offering to it his own heart. [Exit. Par. I know what 'tis to love;

And 'would, as I fhall pity, I could help!

Please you, walk in my lords.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. An Apartment in PANDARUS' Houfe.

Enter PANDARUS, and CRESSIDA.

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.

Gre. Why tell you me of moderation?

The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I tafte,

And violenteth in a sense as strong

As that which caufeth it: How can I moderate it?

If I could temporize with my affection,

Or

Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying drofs;

No more my grief, in fuch a precious lofs.

Enter TROILUS.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes.-Ah fweet ducks! Cre. O Troilus! Troilus!

Pan. What a pair of fpectacles is here! Let me embrace too: O heart, as the goodly faying is, - heart, o heavy heart,

Why fight thou without breaking?

where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy fmart,
By friendship, nor by speaking.

There never was a truer rhyme. Let us caft away nothing, for we may live to have need of fuch a verfe; we fee it, we fee it.-How now, lambs? Troi. Creffid, I love thee in fo ftrain'd a purity, That the bleft gods-as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities-take thee from me. Cre. Have the gods envy?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a cafe.
Cre. And is it true, that I must go from Troy?
Troi. A hateful truth.

Cre. What, and from Troilus too?
Troi. From Troy, and Troilus.'
Cre. Is it poffible?

1

Troi. And fuddenly; where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, juftles roughly by All time of paufe, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents

Our lock'd embrafures, ftrangles our dear vows,

Even in the birth of our own labouring breath:
We two, that with fo many thoufand fighs
Did buy each other, muft poorly-fell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,

With diftin&t breath, and confign'd kiffes to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu;

And fcants us with a fingle famish'd kiss,
Diftafted with the falt of broken tears.

Ene. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready?

Troi. Hark! you are call'd: Some fay, the Genius Cries, Come! to him that instantly muft die.- [fo Bid them have patience; fhe fhall come anon. Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, Or my heart will be blown up by the root. [Exit. Cre. I must then to the Grecians?

Troi. No remedy.

Cre. A woeful Creffid 'mongst the merry Greeks!When fhall we see again?

Troi. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of heart

Cre. Itrue! how now? what wicked deem is this? Troi. Nay, we must use expoftulation kindly, For it is parting from us :

I fpeak not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
For I will throw my glove to death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart :
But, be thou true, fay I, to fashion in
My fequent proteftation; be thou true,
And I will fee thee.

Cre. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers. As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true.