Patr. Jove blefs great Ajax!

Ther. Hum-

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles.
Ther. Ha!

Patr. Who moft humbly defires you to invite Hector to his Tent.

Ther. Hum.

Patr. And to procure fafe Conduct from Agamemnon. Ther. Agamemnon!

Patr. Ay, my Lord.

Ther. Ha!

Patr. What fay you to't?

Ther. God be wi'you, with all my heart.

Patr. Your answer, Sir.

Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he fhall pay for

me ere he has me.

Patr. Your anfwer, Sir.

Ther. Fare ye well, with all my heart.

Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus; what mufick will be in him, when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not. But, I am fure, none; unless the fidler Apollo get his finews to make Catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him ftraight. Ther. Let me carry another to his horfe; for that's the more capable creature.

Achil. My mind is troubled like a fountain stirr'd, And I myself fee not the bottom of it.

[Exit.

Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an afs at it! I had rather be a tick in a fheep, than fuch a valiant ignorance.

[Exe.

ACT

ACT

SCENE,

IV.

a Street in TROY.

Enter at one door Eneas, with a torch; at another, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes; Grecians, with Torches.

PARIS.

EE, ho! who is that there?

SE

Dei. It is the Lord Eneas.

Ene. Is the Prince there in perfon ?

Had I fo good occafion to lie long,

As you, Prince Paris, nought but heav'nly bufinefs
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio. That's my mind too: good morrow, Lord Eneas.
Par. A valiant Greek, Eneas; take his hand;
Witness the procefs of your fpeech, wherein
You told, how Diomede a whole weck, by days,
Did haunt you in the field.

Ene. Health to you, valiant Sir,

During all queftion of the gentle Truce:
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and th' other Diomede embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm, and, fo long, health;
But when contention and occafion meet,

By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, purfuit and policy.

Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion that will fly

(17)

With

(17) And thou shalt hunt a Lion that will fly With his Face back in bumane gentleness.] Thus Mr. Pope in his great Sagacity pointed this Paffage in his first Edition, not deviating from the Error of the old Copies. What Conception he had to himself of a Lion flying in humane Gentleness, I won't pretend to affirm: I fup. pofe, he had the Idea of as gently as a Lamb, or as what our Vulgar call an Effex Lion, a Calf. If any other Lion fly with his Face turn'd

back

With his face backward. In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy-Now, by Anchifes' life,
Welcome, indeed!--by Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in fuch a fort,

The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dio. We fympathize.Jove, let neas live
(If to my fword his Fate be not the Glory)
A thoufand complete courfes of the Sun:
But in mine emulous honour let him die,
With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow.
Ene. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse.
Par. This is the most defpightful, gentle greeting;
The nobleft, hateful love, that e'er 1 heard of.
What bufinefs, Lord, fo early?

Ene. I was fent for to the king; but why, I know not. Par. His purpofe meets you; 'twas, to bring this Greek To Calchas' house, and there to render him (For the enfreed Antenor) the fair Crefid. Let's have your company; or, if you please, Hafte thee before. I conftantly do think, (Or rather call my thought a certain knowledge) My brother Troilus lodges there to night. Roufe him, and give him note of our approach, With the whole quality whereof; I fear, We fhall be much unwelcome.

ne. That affure you.

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Crefid borne from Troy.

Par. There is no help;

backward, it is, fighting all the way as he retreats: And in this Manner it is, Æneas profefles that he fhall fly when he's hunted. But where then are the Symptoms of humane Gentleness? My Correction of the Pointing reftores good Senfe, and a proper Behaviour in As foon as ever he has return'd Diomedes's Brave, he ftops fhort and corres himself for expreffing fo much Fury in a Time of Truce; from the fierce Soldier becomes the Courtier at once; and, remembring his Enemy to be a Gueft and an Ambaffador, welcomes him as fuch to the Trojan Camp.

neas.

The

The bitter difpofition of the time

Will have it fo. On, Lord, we'll follow you.

Ene. Good-morrow all.

Par. And tell me, noble Diomede; tell me true,

Ev'n in the foul of good found fellowship,
Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen moft?
Myfelf, or Menelaus?

Dio. Both alike.

He merits well to have her, that doth feek her,
(Not making any fcruple of her foilure,)
With fuch a hell of pain, and world of charge.
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the tafte of her difhonour,)
With fuch a coftly lofs of wealth and friends.
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You like, a letcher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out
your inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs no less nor more,
But he as he, which heavier for a whore.

[Exit.

Par. You are too bitter to your Country-woman.
Dio. She's bitter to her Country: hear me, Paris,
For ev'ry false drop in her baudy veins

A Grecian's life hath funk; for every fcruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,

A Trojan hath been flain. Since the could fpeak,
She hath not giv'n so many good words breath,
As, for her, Greeks and Trojans fuffer'd death.
Par. Fair Diomede, you do as chapmen do,
Difpraise the thing that you defire to buy:
But we in filence hold this virtue well;
We'll not commend what we intend to fell.
Here lies our way.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Pandarus's House.
Enter Troilus and Creffida.

Troi. D

DEAR, trouble not yourself, the morn is cold.

Cre. Then, fweet my Lord, I'll call my uncle

down:

He fhalt unbolt the gates.

Troi.

Troi. Trouble him not

To bed, to bed

fleep feal thofe pretty eyes,

And give as foft attachment to thy fenfes,

As infants empty of all thought!

Cre. Good-morrow then.

Troi. I pr'ythee now, to bed.

Cre. Are you a weary of me?

Troi. O Creffida! but that the bufy day, Wak'd by the lark, has rouz'd the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.

Cre. Night hath been too brief.

Troi. Behrew the witch! with venomous weights she fays,

Tedious as hell; but flies the grafps of love,

With wings more momentary-fwift than thought :
You will catch cold, and curfe me.

Cre. Prythee, tarry- -you men will never tarry-
O foolish Crefida-I might have ftill held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark, there's one up.
Pan. [within.] What's all the doors open here?
Troi. It is your uncle.

Enter Pandarus.

Cre. A peftilence on him! now will he be mocking; I fhall have fuch a life

Pan. How now, how now? how go maiden-heads? Hear you, maid; where's my coufin Creffida?

Cre. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle : You bring me to do-and then you flout me too.

Pan. To do what? to do what? let her fay, what : What have I brought you to do ?

Cre. Come, come, befhrew your heart; you'll never be good; nor fuffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha! alas, poor wretch; a poor Capocchia, — (18) haft not flept to-night? would he not (a naughty

(18) A poor Chipochia,] under the Ignorance of the Language that I can find.

man)

This Word, I am afraid, has suffer'd
Editors, for it is a Word in no living
Pandarus fays it to his Niece, in a

jeering