Thers. Agamemnon?

Patro. Ay, my lord.

Thers. Ha!

Patro. What say you to it?

Thers. Farewell, with all my heart.

Patro. Your answer, sir?

Thers. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or the other; however, he shall buy me dearly. Fare you well, with all my heart.

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

Thers. No; but he's thus out of tune. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not, nor I care not; but if emptiness makes noise, his head will make melody.

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirred; And I myself see not the bottom on't.

Thers. Would the fountain of his mind were clear, that he might see an ass in it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance. [Aside.

Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, DIOMEDES, and MENELAUS.

Patro. Look, who comes here.

Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody;—come in after me, Thersites. [Exeunt ACHILLES and THERSITES.

Again. Where's Achilles?

Patro. Within, but ill disposed, my lord.

Men. We saw him at the opening of his tent.

Again. Let it be known to him, that we are here.

Patro. I shall say so to him. [Exit PATROC.

Diom. I know he is not sick.

Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of a proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will humour him; but, on my honour, it is no more than pride; and why should he be proud?

Men. Here comes Patroclus; but no Achilles with him.

Enter PATROCLUS.

Patro. Achilles bids me tell you, he is sorry If any thing more than your sport and pleasure Did move you to this visit: He's not well, And begs you would excuse him, as unfit For present business.

Agam. How! how's this, Patroclus? We are too well acquainted with these answers. Though he has much desert, yet all his virtues Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss. We came to speak with him; you shall not err, If you return, we think him over-proud, And under-honest. Tell him this; and add, That if he overhold his price so much, We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine Not portable, lie lag of all the camp. A stirring dwarf is of more use to us, Than is a sleeping giant: tell him so.

Patro. I shall, and bring his answer presently.

Agam. I'll not be satisfied, but by himself: So tell him, Menelaus. [Exeunt MENELAUS and PATROCLUS.

Ajax. What's he more than another?

Agam. No more than what he thinks himself.

Ajax. Is he so much? Do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than me?

Diom. No doubt he does.

Ajax. Do you think so?

Agam. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant but much more courteous.

Ajax. Why should a man be proud? I know not what pride is; I hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.

Diom. [Aside.] 'Tis strange he should, and love himself so well.

Re-enter MENELAUS.

Men. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.

Agam. What's his excuse?

Men. Why, he relies on none But his own will; possessed he is with vanity. What should I say? he is so plaguy proud, That the death-tokens of it are upon him, And bode there's no recovery.

Enter ULYSSES and NESTOR.

Agam. Let Ajax go to him.

Ulys. O Agamemnon, let it not be so. We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes, When they go from Achilles. Shall that proud man Be worshipped by a greater than himself, One, whom we hold our idol? Shall Ajax go to him? No, Jove forbid, And say in thunder, go to him, Achilles.

Nest. [Aside.] O, this is well; he rubs him where it itches.

Ajax. If I go to him, with my gauntlet clenched I'll pash him o'er the face.

Agam. O no, you shall not go.

Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll cure his pride; a paultry insolent fellow!

Nest. How he describes himself! [Aside.

Ulys. The crow chides blackness: [Aside.]—Here is a man,—but 'tis before his face, and therefore I am silent.

Nest. Wherefore are you? He is not envious, as Achilles is.

Ulys. Know all the world, he is as valiant.

Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us! Would a were a Trojan!

Ulys. Thank heaven, my lord, you're of a gentle nature; Praise him that got you, her that brought you forth; But he, who taught you first the use of arms, Let Mars divide eternity in two, And give him half. I will not praise your wisdom, Nestor shall do't; but, pardon, father Nestor,— Were you as green as Ajax, and your brain Tempered like his, you never should excel him, But be as Ajax is.

Ajax. Shall I call you father?

Ulys. Ay, my good son.

Diom. Be ruled by him, lord Ajax.

Ulys. There is no staying here; the hart Achilles Keeps thicket;—please it our great general, I shall impart a counsel, which, observed, May cure the madman's pride.

Agam. In my own tent our talk will be more private.

Ulys. But nothing without Ajax; He is the soul and substance of my counsels, And I am but his shadow.

Ajax. You shall see I am not like Achilles. Let us confer, and I'll give counsel too. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter PANDARUS, TROILUS, and CRESSIDA.

Pand. Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's a baby; swear the oaths now to her, that you swore to me: What, are you gone again? you must be watched ere you are made tame, must you? Why don't you speak to her first?—Come, draw this curtain and let's see your picture; alas-a-day, how loth you are to offend day-light! [They kiss.] That's well, that's well; nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. So so—so so—

Troil. You have bereft me of all words, fair Cressida.

Pand. Words pay no debts; give her deeds.—What billing again! Here's, in witness whereof the parties interchangeably—come in, come in, you lose time both.

Troil. O Cressida, how often have I wished me here!

Cres. Wished, my lord!—The gods grant!—O, my lord—

Troil. What should they grant? what makes this pretty interruption in thy words?

Cres. I speak I know not what!

Troil. Speak ever so; and if I answer you I know not what—it shows the more of love. Love is a child that talks in broken language, Yet then he speaks most plain.

Cres. I find it true, that to be wise, and love, Are inconsistent things.

Pand. What, blushing still! have you not done talking yet?

Cres. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.

Pand. I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'll give him me. Be true to my lord; if he flinch, I'll be hanged for him.—Now am I in my kingdom! [Aside.

Troil. You know your pledges now; your uncle's word, and my firm faith.

Pand. Nay, I'll give my word for her too: Our kindred are constant; they are burs, I can assure you; they'll stick where they are thrown.

Cres. Boldness comes to me now, and I can speak: Prince Troilus, I have loved you long.

Troil. Why was my Cressida then so hard to win?

Cres. Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord— What have I blabbed? who will be true to us, When we are so unfaithful to ourselves! O bid me hold my tongue; for, in this rapture, Sure I shall speak what I should soon repent. But stop my mouth.

Troil. A sweet command, and willingly obeyed. [Kisses.

Pand. Pretty, i'faith!

Cres. My lord, I do beseech you pardon me; 'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss. I am ashamed;—O heavens, what have I done! For this time let me take my leave, my lord.

Pand. Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning, call me Cut.

Cres. Pray, let me go.

Troil. Why, what offends you, madam?

Cres. My own company.

Troil. You cannot shun yourself.

Cres. Let me go try; I have a kind of self resides in you.

Troil. Oh that I thought truth could be in a woman, (As if it can, I will presume in you,) That my integrity and faith might meet The same return from her, who has my heart, How should I be exalted! but, alas, I am more plain than dull simplicity, And artless as the infancy of truth!

Cres. In that I must not yield to you, my lord.

Troil. All constant lovers shall, in future ages, Approve their truth by Troilus. When their verse Wants similes,—as turtles to their mates, Or true as flowing tides are to the moon, Earth to the centre, iron to adamant,— At last, when truth is tired with repetition, As true as Troilus, shall crown up the verse, And sanctify the numbers.

Cres. Prophet may you be! If I am false, or swerve from truth of love, When Time is old, and has forgot itself In all things else, let it remember me; And, after all comparisons of falsehood, To stab the heart of perjury in maids, Let it be said—as false as Cressida.

Pand. Go to, little ones; a bargain made. Here I hold your hand, and here my cousin's: if ever you prove false to one another, after I have taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end after my name, Pandars.

Cres. And will you promise, that the holy priest Shall make us one for ever?

Pand. Priests! marry hang them, they make you one! Go in, go in, and make yourselves one without a priest; I'll have no priest's work in my house.

Cres. I'll not consent, unless you swear.

Pand. Ay, do, do swear; a pretty woman's worth an oath at any time. Keep or break, as time shall try; but it is good to swear, for the saving of her credit. Hang them, sweet rogues, they never expect a man should keep it. Let him but swear, and that's all they care for.

Troil. Heavens prosper me, as I devoutly swear, Never to be but yours!

Pand. Whereupon I will lead you into a chamber; and suppose there be a bed in it, as, ifack, I know not, but you'll forgive me if there be—away, away, you naughty hildings; get you together, get you together. Ah you wags, do you leer indeed at one another! do the neyes twinkle at him! get you together, get you together. [Leads them out.

Enter at one Door AENEAS, with a Torch; at another, HECTOR and DIOMEDE, with Torches.

Hect. So ho, who goes there? AEneas!

AEn. Prince Hector!

Diom. Good-morrow, lord AEneas.

Hect. A valiant Greek, AEneas; take his hand; Witness the process of your speech within; You told how Diomede a whole week by days Did haunt you in the field.

AEn. Health to you, valiant sir, During all business of the gentle truce; But, when I meet you armed, as black defiance, As heart can think, or courage execute.

Diom. Both one and t'other Diomede embraces. Our bloods are now in calm; and so long, health; But when contention and occasion meet, By Jove I'll play the hunter for thy life.

AEn. And thou shall hunt a lion, that will fly With his face backward. Welcome, Diomede, Welcome to Troy. Now, by Anchises' soul, No man alive can love in such a sort The thing he means to kill more excellently.

Diom. We know each other well.

AEn. We do; and long to know each other worse.— My lord, the king has sent for me in haste; Know you the reason?

Hect. Yes; his purpose meets you. It was to bring this Greek to Calchas' house, Where Pandarus his brother, and his daughter Fair Cressida reside; and there to render For our Antenor, now redeemed from prison, The lady Cressida.

AEn. What! Has the king resolved to gratify That traitor Calchas, who forsook his country, And turned to them, by giving up this pledge?

Hect. The bitter disposition of the time Is such, though Calchas, as a fugitive, Deserve it not, that we must free Antenor, On whose wise counsels we can most rely; And therefore Cressida must be returned.

AEn. A word, my lord—Your pardon, Diomede— Your brother Troilus, to my certain knowledge, Does lodge this night in Pandarus's house.

Hect. Go you before. Tell him of our approach, Which will, I fear, be much unwelcome to him.

AEn. I assure you, Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece, Than Cressida from Troy.

Hect. I know it well; and how he is, beside, Of hasty blood.

AEn. He will not hear me speak; But I have noted long betwixt you two A more than brother's love; an awful homage The fiery youth pays to your elder virtue.

Hect. Leave it to me; I'll manage him alone; Attend you Diomede.—My lord, good-morrow; [To DIOM. An urgent business takes me from the pleasure Your company affords me; but AEneas, With joy, will undertake to serve you here, And to supply my room.

AEn. [To DIOM.] My lord, I wait you. [Exeunt severally; DIOMEDE with AENEAS, HECTOR at another Door.

Enter PANDARUS, a Servant, Music.

Pand. Softly, villain, softly; I would not for half Troy the lovers should be disturbed under my roof: listen, rogue, listen; do they breathe?

Serv. Yes, sir; I hear, by some certain signs, they are both awake.

Pand. That's as it should be; that's well o' both sides. [Listens.]—Yes, 'faith, they are both alive:—There was a creak! there was a creak! they are both alive, and alive like;—there was a creak! a ha, boys!—Is the music ready?

Serv. Shall they strike up, sir?

Pand. Art thou sure they do not know the parties?

Serv. They play to the man in the moon, for aught they know.

Pand. To the man in the moon? ah rogue! do they so indeed, rogue! I understand thee; thou art a wag; thou art a wag. Come, towze rowze! in the name of love, strike up, boys.

Music, and then a Song; during which PANDARUS listens.

I.

Can life be a blessing, Or worth the possessing, Can life be a blessing, if love were away? Ah, no! though our love all night keep us waking, And though he torment us with cares all the day, Yet he sweetens, he sweetens our pains in the taking; There's an hour at the last, there's an hour to repay.

II.

In every possessing, The ravishing blessing, In every possessing, the fruit of our pain, Poor lovers forget long ages of anguish, Whate'er they have suffered and done to obtain; 'Tis a pleasure, a pleasure to sigh and to languish, When we hope, when we hope to be happy again.

Pand. Put up, and vanish; they are coming out: What a ferrup, will you play when the dance is done? I say, vanish. [Exit music. [Peeping.] Good, i'faith! good, i'faith! what, hand in hand—a fair quarrel, well ended! Do, do, walk him, walk him;—a good girl, a discreet girl: I see she will make the most of him.

Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.

Troil. Farewell, my life! leave me, and back to bed: Sleep seal those pretty eyes, And tie thy senses in as soft a band, As infants void of thought.

Pand. [Shewing himself.] How now, how now; how go matters? Hear you, maid, hear you; where's my cousin Cressida?

Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle: You bring me to do ill, and then you jeer me!

Pand. What ill have I brought you to do? Say what, if you dare now?—My lord, have I brought her to do ill?

Cres. Come, come,—beshrew your heart, you'll neither be good yourself, nor suffer others.

Pand. Alas, poor wench! alas, poor devil! Has not slept to-night? would a'not, a naughty man, let it sleep one twinkle? A bugbear take him!

Cres. [Knock within.] Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see:— My lord, come you again into my chamber.— You smile and mock, as if I meant naughtily!

Troil. Indeed, indeed!

Cres. Come, you're deceived; I think of no such thing.— [Knock again. How earnestly they knock! Pray, come in: I would not for all Troy you were seen here. [Exeunt TROIL. and CRES.

Pand. Who's there? What's the matter? Will you beat down the house there!

Enter HECTOR.

Hect. Good morrow, my lord Pandarus; good morrow!

Pand. Who's there? prince Hector! What news with you so early?

Hect. Is not my brother Troilus here?

Pand. Here! what should he do here?

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

Pand. Is he here, say you? It is more than I know, I'll be sworn! For my part, I came in late.—What should he do here?

Hect. Come, come, you do him wrong ere you're aware; you'll be so true to him, that you'll be false to him: You shall not know he's here; but yet go fetch him hither; go. [Exit PAND.

Enter TROILUS.

I bring you, brother, most unwelcome news; But since of force you are to hear it told, I thought a friend and brother best might tell it: Therefore, before I speak, arm well your mind, And think you're to be touched even to the quick; That so, prepared for ill, you may be less Surprised to hear the worst.

Troil. See, Hector, what it is to be your brother! I stand prepared already.

Hect. Come, you are hot; I know you, Troilus, you are hot and fiery: You kindle at a wrong, and catch it quick, As stubble does the flame.

Troil. 'Tis heat of blood, And rashness of my youth; I'll mend that error: Begin, and try my temper.

Hect. Can you think Of that one thing, which most could urge your anger, Drive you to madness, plunge you in despair, And make you hate even me?

Troil. There can be nothing. I love you, brother, with that awful love I bear to heaven, and to superior virtue: And when I quit this love, you must be that, Which Hector ne'er can be.

Hect. Remember well What you have said; for, when I claim your promise, I shall expect performance.

Troil. I am taught: I will not rage.

Hect. Nor grieve beyond a man?

Troil. I will not be a woman.

Hect. Do not, brother: And I will tell my news in terms so mild, So tender, and so fearful to offend, As mothers use to sooth their froward babes; Nay, I will swear, as you have sworn to me, That, if some gust of passion swell your soul To words intemperate, I will bear with you.

Troil. What would this pomp of preparation mean? Come you to bring me news of Priam's death, Or Hecuba's?

Hect. The gods forbid I should! But what I bring is nearer you, more close, An ill more yours.

Troil. There is but one that can be.

Hect. Perhaps, 'tis that.

Troil. I'll not suspect my fate So far; I know I stand possessed of that.

Hect. 'Tis well: consider at whose house I find you.

Troil. Ha!

Hect. Does it start you? I must wake you more; Antenor is exchanged.

Troil. For whom?

Hect. Imagine.

Troil. It comes, like thunder grumbling in a cloud, Before the dreadful break: If here it fall, The subtle flame will lick up all my blood, And, in a moment, turn my heart to ashes.

Hect. That Cressida for Antenor is exchanged, Because I knew 'twas harsh, I would not tell; Not all at once; but by degrees and glimpses I let it in, lest it might rush upon you, And quite o'erpower your soul: In this, I think, I showed a friend: your part must follow next; Which is, to curb your choler, tame your grief, And bear it like a man.

Troil. I think I do, That I yet live to hear you. But no more; Hope for no more; for, should some goddess offer To give herself and all her heaven in change, I would not part with Cressida: So return This answer as my last.

Hect. 'Twill not be taken: Nor will I bear such news.

Troil. You bore me worse.

Hect. Worse for yourself; not for the general state, And all our common safety, which depends On freed Antenor's wisdom.

Troil. You would say, That I'm the man marked out to be unhappy, And made the public sacrifice for Troy.

Hect. I would say so indeed; for, can you find A fate more glorious than to be that victim? If parting from a mistress can procure A nation's happiness, show me that prince Who dares to trust his future fame so far, To stand the shock of annals, blotted thus,— He sold his country for a woman's love!

Troil. O, she's my life, my being, and my soul!

Hect. Suppose she were,—which yet I will not grant,— You ought to give her up.

Troil. For whom?

Hect. The public.

Troil. And what are they, that I should give up her, To make them happy? Let me tell you, brother, The public is the lees of vulgar slaves; Slaves, with the minds of slaves; so born, so bred. Yet such as these, united in a herd, Are called, the public! Millions of such cyphers Make up the public sum. An eagle's life Is worth a world of crows. Are princes made For such as these; who, were one soul extracted From all their beings, could not raise a man?—

Hect. And what are we, but for such men as these? 'Tis adoration, some say, makes a god: And who should pay it, where would be their altars, Were no inferior creatures here on earth? Even those, who serve, have their expectancies, Degrees of happiness, which they must share, Or they'll refuse to serve us.

Troil. Let them have it; Let them eat, drink, and sleep; the only use They have of life.

Hect. You take all these away, Unless you give up Cressida.

Troil. Forbear: Let Paris give up Helen; she's the cause, And root, of all this mischief.

Hect. Your own suffrage Condemns you there: you voted for her stay.

Troil. If one must stay, the other shall not go.

Hect. She shall not?

Troil. Once again I say, she shall not.

Hect. Our father has decreed it otherwise.

Troil. No matter.

Hect. How! no matter, Troilus? A king, a father's will!

Troil. When 'tis unjust.

Hect. Come, she shall go.

Troil. She shall? then I am dared.

Hect. If nothing else will do.

Troil. Answer me first, And then I'll answer that,—be sure I will,— Whose hand sealed this exchange?

Hect. My father's first; Then all the council's after.

Troil. Was yours there?

Hect. Mine was there too.

Troil. Then you're no more my friend: And for your sake,—now mark me what I say,— She shall not go.

Hect. Go to; you are a boy.

Troil. A boy! I'm glad I am not such a man, Not such as thou, a traitor to thy brother; Nay, more, thy friend: But friend's a sacred name, Which none but brave and honest men should wear: In thee 'tis vile; 'tis prostitute; 'tis air; And thus, I puff it from me.

Hect. Well, young man, Since I'm no friend, (and, oh, that e'er I was, To one so far unworthy!) bring her out; Or, by our father's soul, of which no part Did e'er descend to thee, I'll force her hence.

Troil. I laugh at thee.

Hect. Thou dar'st not.

Troil. I dare more, If urged beyond my temper: Prove my daring, And see which of us has the larger share Of our great father's soul.

Hect. No more!—thou know'st me.

Troil. I do; and know myself.

Hect. All this, ye gods! And for the daughter of a fugitive, A traitor to his country!

Troil. 'Tis too much.

Hect. By heaven, too little; for I think her common.

Troil. How, common!

Hect. Common as the tainted shambles, Or as the dust we tread.

Troil. By heaven, as chaste as thy Andromache. [HECTOR lays his hand on TROILUS'S arm, TROILUS does the same to him.

Hect. What, namest thou them together!

Troil. No, I do not: Fair Cressida is first; as chaste as she, But much more fair.

Hect. O, patience, patience, heaven! Thou tempt'st me strangely: should I kill thee now, I know not if the gods can he offended, Or think I slew a brother: But, begone! Begone, or I shall shake thee into atoms; Thou know'st I can.

Troil. I care not if you could.

Hect. [walking off.] I thank the gods, for calling to my mind My promise, that no words of thine should urge me Beyond the bounds of reason: But in thee 'Twas brutal baseness, so forewarned, to fall Beneath the name of man; to spurn my kindness; And when I offered thee (thou know'st how loth!) The wholesome bitter cup of friendly counsel, To dash it in my face. Farewell, farewell, Ungrateful as thou art: hereafter use The name of brother; but of friend no more. [Going out.

Troil. Wilt thou not break yet, heart?—stay, brother, stay; I promised too, but I have broke my vow, And you keep yours too well.

Hect. What would'st thou more? Take heed, young man, how you too far provoke me! For heaven can witness, 'tis with much constraint That I preserve my faith.

Troil. Else you would kill me?

Hect. By all the gods I would.

Troil. I'm satisfied. You have condemned me, and I'll do't myself. What's life to him, who has no use of life? A barren purchase, held upon hard terms! For I have lost (oh, what have I not lost!) The fairest, dearest, kindest, of her sex; And lost her even by him, by him, ye gods! Who only could, and only should protect me! And if I had a joy beyond that love, A friend, have lost him too!

Hect. Speak that again,— For I could hear it ever,—saidst thou not, That if thou hadst a joy beyond that love, It was a friend? O, saidst thou not, a friend! That doubting if was kind: then thou'rt divided; And I have still some part.

Troil. If still you have, You do not care to have it.

Hect. How, not care!

Troil. No, brother, care not.

Hect. Am I but thy brother?

Troil. You told me, I must call you friend no more.

Hect. How far my words were distant from my heart! Know, when I told thee so, I loved thee most. Alas! it is the use of human frailty, To fly to worst extremities with those, To whom we are most kind.

Troil. Is't possible! Then you are still my friend.

Hect. Heaven knows I am!

Troil. And can forgive the sallies of my passion? For I have been to blame, oh! much to blame; Have said such words, nay, done such actions too, (Base as I am!) that my awed conscious soul Sinks in my breast, nor dare I lift an eye On him I have offended.

Hect. Peace be to thee, And calmness ever there. I blame thee not: I know thou lov'st; and what can love not do! I cast the wild disorderly account, Of all thy words and deeds, on that mad passion: I pity thee, indeed I pity thee.

Troil. Do, for I need it: Let me lean my head Upon thy bosom, all my peace dwells there; Thou art some god, or much, much more than man!

Hect. Alas, to lose the joys of all thy youth, One who deserved thy love!

Troil. Did she deserve?

Hect. She did.

Troil. Then sure she was no common creature?

Hect. I said it in my rage; I thought not so.

Troil. That thought has blessed me! But to lose this love, After long pains, and after short possession!

Hect. I feel it for thee: Let me go to Priam, I'll break this treaty off; or let me fight: I'll be thy champion, and secure both her, And thee, and Troy.

Troil. It must not be, my brother; For then your error would be more than mine: I'll bring her forth, and you shall bear her hence; That you have pitied me is my reward.

Hect. Go, then; and the good gods restore her to thee, And, with her, all the quiet of thy mind! The triumph of this kindness be thy own; And heaven and earth this testimony yield, That friendship never gained a nobler field. [Exeunt severally.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA meeting.

Pand. Is't possible? no sooner got but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad: A plague upon Antenor! would they had broke his neck!

Cres. How now? what's the matter? Who was here?

Pand. Oh, oh!

Cres. Why sigh you so? O, where's my Troilus? Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pand. Would I were as deep under the earth, as I am above it!

Cres. O, the gods! What's the matter?

Pand. Pr'ythee get thee in; would thou hadst never been born! I knew thou wouldst be his death; oh, poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor!

Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, tell me what's the matter?

Pand. Thou must be gone, girl; thou must be gone, to the fugitive rogue-priest, thy father: (and he's my brother too; but that's all one at this time:) A pox upon Antenor!

Cres. O, ye immortal gods! I will not go.

Pand. Thou must, thou must.

Cres. I will not: I have quite forgot my father. I have no touch of birth, no spark of nature, No kin, no blood, no life; nothing so near me, As my dear Troilus!

Enter TROILUS.

Pand. Here, here, here he comes, sweet duck!

Cres. O, Troilus, Troilus! [They both weep over each other; she running into his arms.

Pand. What a pair of spectacles is here! let me embrace too. Oh, heart,—as the saying is,— —o heart, o heavy heart, Why sigh'st thou without breaking! Where he answers again, Because thou can'st 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 see it, we see it.—How now, lambs?

Troil. Cressid, I love thee with so strange a purity, That the blest gods, angry with my devotions, More bright in zeal than that I pay their altars, Will take thee from my sight.

Cres. Have the gods envy?

Pand. Ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case!

Cres. And is it true, that I must go from Troy?

Troil. A hateful truth.

Cres. What, and from Troilus too?

Troil. From Troy and Troilus,—and suddenly; So suddenly, 'tis counted out by minutes.

Cres. What, not an hour allowed for taking leave?

Troil. Even that's bereft us too: Our envious fates Jostle betwixt, and part the dear adieus Of meeting lips, clasped hands, and locked embraces.

AEneas. [Within.] My lord, is the lady ready yet?

Troil. Hark, you are called!—Some say, the genius so Cries,—Come, to him who instantly must die.

Pand. Where are my tears? some rain to lay this wind, Or my heart will be blown up by the roots!

Troil. Hear me, my love! be thou but true, like me.

Cres. I true! how now, what wicked thought is this?

Troil. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us. I spoke not, be thou true, as fearing thee; But be thou true, I said, to introduce My following protestation,—be thou true, And I will see thee.

Cres. You'll be exposed to dangers.

Troil. I care not; but be true.

Cres. Be true, again?

Troil. Hear why I speak it, love. The Grecian youths are full of Grecian arts: Alas! a kind of holy jealousy, Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin, Makes me afraid how far you may be tempted.

Cres. O heavens, you love me not!

Troil. Die I a villain then! In this I do not call your faith in question, But my own merit.

Cres. Fear not; I'll be true.

Troil. Then, fate, thy worst! for I will see thee, love; Not all the Grecian host shall keep me out, Nor Troy, though walled with fire, should hold me in.

AEneas. [Within.] My lord, my lord Troilus! I must call you.

Pand. A mischief call him! nothing but screech-owls? do, do, call again; you had best part them now in the sweetness of their love!—I'll be hanged if this AEneas be the son of Venus, for all his bragging. Honest Venus was a punk; would she have parted lovers? no, he has not a drop of Venus' blood in him—honest Venus was a punk.

Troil. [To Pand.] Pr'ythee, go out, and gain one minute more.

Pand. Marry and I will: follow you your business; lose no time, 'tis very precious; go, bill again: I'll tell the rogue his own, I warrant him. [Exit PANDARUS.

Cres. What have we gained by this one minute more?

Troil. Only to wish another, and another, A longer struggling with the pangs of death.

Cres. O, those, who do not know what parting is, Can never learn to die!

Troil. When I but think this sight may be our last, If Jove could set me in the place of Atlas, And lay the weight of heaven and gods upon me, He could not press me more.

Cres. Oh let me go, that I may know my grief; Grief is but guessed, while thou art standing by: But I too soon shall know what absence is.

Troil. Why, 'tis to be no more; another name for death: 'Tis the sun parting from the frozen north; And I, methinks, stand on some icy cliff, To watch the last low circles that he makes, 'Till he sink down from heaven! O only Cressida, If thou depart from me, I cannot live: I have not soul enough to last for grief, But thou shalt hear what grief has done with me.

Cres. If I could live to hear it, I were false. But, as a careful traveller, who, fearing Assaults of robbers, leaves his wealth behind, I trust my heart with thee; and to the Greeks Bear but an empty casket.

Troil. Then I will live, that I may keep that treasure; And, armed with this assurance, let thee go, Loose, yet secure as is the gentle hawk, When, whistled off, she mounts into the wind. Our love's like mountains high above the clouds; Though winds and tempests beat their aged feet, Their peaceful heads nor storm nor thunder know, But scorn the threatening rack that rolls below. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

ACHILLES and PATROCLUS standing in their tent.—ULYSSES AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, NESTOR, and AJAX, passing over the stage.

Ulys. Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent: Please it our general to pass strangely by him, As if he were forgot; and, princes all, Look on him with neglectful eyes and scorn: Pride must be cured by pride.

Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and put on A form of strangeness as we pass along; So do each prince; either salute him not, Or else disdainfully, which will shake him more Than if not looked on. I will lead the way.

Achil. What, comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind; I'll fight no more with Troy.

Agam. What says Achilles? would he aught with us?

Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the general?

Achil. No.

Nest. Nothing, my lord.

Agam. The better.

Menel. How do you, how do you?

Achil. What, does the cuckold scorn me!

Ajax. How now, Patroclus?

Achil. Good morrow, Ajax.

Ajax. Ha!

Achil. Good morrow.

Ajax. Ay; and good next day too. [Exeunt all but ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.

Achil. What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?

Patro. They pass by strangely; they were used to bow, And send their smiles before them to Achilles; To come as humbly as they used to creep To holy altars.

Achil. Am I poor of late? 'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune, Must fall out with men too: what the declined is, He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings but to the summer.

Patro. 'Tis known you are in love with Hector's sister, And therefore will not fight; and your not fighting Draws on you this contempt. I oft have told you, A woman, impudent and mannish grown, Is not more loathed than an effeminate man, In time of action: I am condemned for this: They think my little appetite to war Deads all the fire in you; but rouse yourself, And love shall from your neck unloose his folds; Or, like a dew-drop from a lion's mane, Be shaken into air.

Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Patro. Yes, and perhaps shall gain much honour by him.

Achil. I see my reputation is at stake.

Patro. O then beware; those wounds heal ill, that men Have given themselves, because they give them deepest.

Achil. I'll do something; But what I know not yet.—No more; our champion.

Re-enter AJAX, AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDE, Trumpet.

Agam. Here art thou, daring combat, valiant Ajax. Give, with thy trumpet, a loud note to Troy, Thou noble champion, that the sounding air May pierce the ears of the great challenger, And call him hither.

Ajax. Trumpet, take that purse: Now crack thy lungs, and split the sounding brass; Thou blow'st for Hector. [Trumpet sounds, and is answered from within.

Enter HECTOR, AENEAS, and other Trojans.

Agam. Yonder comes the troop.

AEn. [Coming to the Greeks.] Health to the Grecian lords:—What shall be done To him that shall be vanquished? or do you purpose A victor should be known? will you, the knights Shall to the edge of all extremity Pursue each other, or shall be divided By any voice or order of the field? Hector bade ask.

Agam. Which way would Hector have it?

AEn. He cares not, he'll obey conditions.

Achil. 'Tis done like Hector, but securely done; A little proudly, and too much despising The knight opposed; he might have found his match.

AEn. If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?

Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.

AEn. Therefore Achilles; but whoe'er, know this; Great Hector knows no pride: weigh him but well, And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy. This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood, In love whereof half Hector stays at home.

Achil. A maiden battle? I perceive you then.

Agam. Go, Diomede, and stand by valiant Ajax; As you and lord AEneas shall consent, So let the fight proceed, or terminate. [The trumpets sound on both sides, while AENEAS and DIOMEDE take their places, as Judges of the field. The Trojans and Grecians rank themselves on either side.

Ulys. They are opposed already. [Fight equal at first, then AJAX has HECTOR at disadvantage; at last HECTOR closes, AJAX falls on one knee, HECTOR stands over him, but strikes not, and AJAX rises.

AEn. [Throwing his gauntlet betwixt them.] Princes, enough; you have both shown much valour.

Diom. And we, as judges of the field, declare, The combat here shall cease.

Ajax, I am not warm yet, let us fight again.

AEn. Then let it be as Hector shall determine.

Hect. If it be left to me, I will no more.— Ajax, thou art my aunt Hesione's son; The obligation of our blood forbids us. But, were thy mixture Greek and Trojan so, That thou couldst say, this part is Grecian all, And this is Trojan,—hence thou shouldst not bear One Grecian limb, wherein my pointed sword Had not impression made. But heaven forbid That any drop, thou borrowest from my mother, Should e'er be drained by me: let me embrace thee, cousin. By him who thunders, thou hast sinewy arms: Hector would have them fall upon him thus:— [Embrace. Thine be the honour, Ajax.

Ajax. I thank thee, Hector; Thou art too gentle, and too free a man. I came to kill thee, cousin, and to gain A great addition from that glorious act: But thou hast quite disarmed me.

Hect. I am glad; For 'tis the only way I could disarm thee.

Ajax. If I might in intreaty find success, I would desire to see thee at my tent.

Diom. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles; Both long to see the valiant Hector there.

Hect. AEneas, call my brother Troilus to me; And you two sign this friendly interview. [AGAMEMNON, and the chief of both sides approach.

Agam. [To HECT.] Worthy of arms, as welcome as to one, Who would be rid of such an enemy.— [To TROIL.] My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.

Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee often, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way Through ranks of Grecian youth; and I have seen thee As swift as lightning spur thy Phrygian steed, And seen thee scorning many forfeit lives, When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' th' air, Not letting it decline on prostrate foes; That I have said to all the standers-by, Lo, Jove is yonder, distributing life.

Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, Who hast so long walked hand in hand with time: Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.

Ulys. I wonder now, how yonder city stands, When we have here her base and pillar by us.

Hect. I know your count'nance, lord Ulysses, well. Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, Since first I saw yourself and Diomede In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.

Achil. Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint.

Hect. Is this Achilles?

Achil. I am Achilles.

Hect. Stand fair, I pr'ythee, let me look on thee.

Achil. Behold thy fill.

Hect. Nay, I have done already.

Achil. Thou art too brief. I will, the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.

Hect. O, like a book of sport, thou read'st me o'er; But there's more in me than thou understand'st.

Achil. Tell me, ye heavens, in which part of his body Shall I destroy him? there, or there, or there? That I may give the imagined wound a name, And make distinct the very breach, whereout Hector's great spirit flew! answer me, heavens!

Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me this, I'd not believe thee; henceforth guard thee well, I'll kill thee every where. Ye noble Grecians, pardon me this boast; His insolence draws folly from my lips; But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, Else may I never—

Ajax. Do not chafe thee, cousin;— And you, Achilles, let these threats alone; You may have every day enough of Hector, If you have stomach; the general state, I fear, Can scarce intreat you to perform your boast.

Hect. I pray you, let us see you in the field; We have had pelting wars, since you refused The Grecian cause.

Achil. Do'st thou entreat me, Hector? To-morrow will I meet thee, fierce as death; To-night, all peace.

Hect. Thy hand upon that match.

Agam. First, all you Grecian princes, go with me, And entertain great Hector; afterwards, As his own leisure shall concur with yours, You may invite him to your several tents. [Exeunt AGAM. HECT. MENEL. NEST. DIOM. together.

Troil. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what part of the field does Calchas lodge?

Ulys. At Menelaus' tent: There Diomede does feast with him to-night; Who neither looks on heaven or on earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On Cressida alone.

Troil. Shall I, brave lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon's tent, To bring me thither?

Ulys. I shall wait on you. As freely tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? had she no lovers there, Who mourn her absence?

Troil. O sir, to such as boasting show their scars, Reproof is due: she loved and was beloved; That's all I must impart. Lead on, my lord. [Exeunt ULYSSES and TROILUS.

Achil. [To PATRO.] I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my sword I mean to cool to-morrow. Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

Enter THERSITES.

Patro. Here comes Thersites.

Achil. How now, thou core of envy, Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?

Thers. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, thou idol of ideot worshippers, there's a letter for thee.

Achil. From whence, fragment?

Thers. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.

Patro. Well said, adversity! what makes thee so keen to-day?

Thers. Because a fool's my whetstone.

Patro. Meaning me?

Thers. Yes, meaning thy no meaning; pr'ythee, be silent, boy, I profit not by thy talk. Now the rotten diseases of the south, gut-gripings, ruptures, catarrhs, loads of gravel in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, and the like, take thee, and take thee again! thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou! Ah how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies, such diminutives of nature!

Achil. My dear Patroclus, I am quite prevented From my great purpose, bent on Hector's life. Here is a letter from my love Polyxena, Both taxing and engaging me to keep An oath that I have sworn; and will not break it To save all Greece. Let honour go or stay, There's more religion in my love than fame. [Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.

Thers. With too much blood, and too little brain, these two are running mad before the dog-days. There's Agamemnon, too, an honest fellow enough, and loves a brimmer heartily; but he has not so much brains as an old gander. But his brother Menelaus, there's a fellow! the goodly transformation of Jupiter when he loved Europa; the primitive cuckold; a vile monkey tied eternally to his brother's tail,—to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a toad, an owl, a lizard, a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny.—Hey day! Will with a Wisp, and Jack a Lanthorn!

HECTOR, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, DIOMEDE, ULYSSES, TROILUS, going with Torches over the Stage.

Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong.

Ajax. No, yonder 'tis; there, where we see the light.

Hect. I trouble you.

Ajax. Not at all, cousin; here comes Achilles himself, to guide us.

Enter ACHILLES.

Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all.

Agam. So now, brave prince of Troy, I take my leave; Ajax commands the guard to wait on you.

Men. Good night, my lord.

Hect. Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.

Thers. [Aside.] Sweet, quotha! Sweet sink, sweet sewer, sweet jakes!

Achil. Nestor will stay; and you, lord Diomede, Keep Hector company an hour or two.

Diom. I cannot, sir; I have important business.

Achil. Enter, my lords.

Ulys. [To TROIL.] Follow his torch: he goes to Calchas's tent. [Exeunt ACHIL. HECT. AJAX, one way; DIOMEDE another; and after him ULYSSES and TROILUS.

Thers. This Diomede's a false-hearted rogue, an unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he winks with one eye, than I will a serpent when he hisses. He will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers set it down for a prodigy: though I long to see Hector, I cannot forbear dogging him. They say he keeps a Trojan drab; and uses Calchas's tent, that fugitive priest of Troy, that canonical rogue of our side. I'll after him; nothing but whoring in this age; all incontinent rascals! [Exit THERSITES.

Enter CALCHAS and CRESSIDA.

Calch. O, what a blessing is a virtuous child! Thou has reclaimed my mind, and calmed my passions Of anger and revenge; my love to Troy Revives within me, and my lost tiara No more disturbs my mind.

Cres. A virtuous conquest!

Calch. I have a woman's longing to return; But yet which way, without your aid, I know not.

Cres. Time must instruct us how.

Calch. You must dissemble love to Diomede still: False Diomede, bred in Ulysses' school, Can never be deceived, But by strong arts and blandishments of love. Put them in practice all; seem lost and won, And draw him on, and give him line again. This Argus then may close his hundred eyes, And leave our flight more easy.

Cres. How can I answer this to love and Troilus?

Calch. Why, 'tis for him you do it; promise largely; That ring he saw you wear, he much suspects Was given you by a lover; let him have it.

Diom. [Within.] Ho, Calchas, Calchas!

Calch. Hark! I hear his voice. Pursue your project; doubt not the success.

Cres. Heaven knows, against my will; and yet my hopes, This night to meet my Troilus, while 'tis truce, Afford my mind some ease.

Calch. No more: retire. [Exit CRESSIDA.

Enter DIOMEDE: TROILUS and ULYSSES appear listening at one Door, and THERSITES watching at another.

Diom. I came to see your daughter, worthy Calchas.

Calch. My lord, I'll call her to you. [Exit CALCHAS.

Ulys. [To TROIL.] Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Enter CRESSIDA.

Troil. Cressida comes forth to him!

Diom. How now, my charge?

Cres. Now, my sweet guardian; hark, a word with you. [Whisper.

Troil. Ay, so familiar!

Diom. Will you remember?

Cres. Remember? yes.

Troil. Heavens, what should she remember! Plague and madness!

Ulys. Prince, you are moved: let us depart in time, Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous; The time unlit: beseech you, let us go.

Troil. I pray you stay; by hell, and by hell's torments, I will not speak a word.

Diom. I'll hear no more: good night.

Cres. Nay, but you part in anger!

Troil. Does that grieve thee? O withered truth!

Diom. Farewell, cozener.

Cres. Indeed I am not: pray, come back again.

Ulys. You shake, my lord, at something: will you go? You will break out.

Troil. By all the gods I will not. There is, between my will and all my actions, A guard of patience: stay a little while.

Thers. [aside.] How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potato-finger, tickles these together!—Put him off a little, you foolish harlot! 'twill sharpen him the more.

Diom. But will you then?

Cres. I will, as soon as e'er the war's concluded.

Diom Give me some token, for the surety of it; The ring I saw you wear.

Cres. [Giving it.] If you must have it.

Troil. The ring? nay, then, 'tis plain! O beauty, where's thy faith!

Ulys. You have sworn patience.

Thers. That's well, that's well, the pledge is given; hold her to her word, good devil, and her soul's thine, I warrant thee.

Diom. Whose was't?

Cres. By all Diana's waiting train of stars, And by herself, I will not tell you whose.

Diom. Why then thou lov'st him still: farewell for ever: Thou never shalt mock Diomede again.

Cres. You shall not go: one cannot speak a word, But straight it starts you.

Diom. I do not like this fooling.

Thers. Nor I, by Pluto: but that, which likes not you, pleases me best.

Diom. I shall expect your promise.

Cres. I'll perform it. Not a word more, good night—I hope for ever: Thus to deceive deceivers is no fraud. [Aside. [Exeunt DIOMEDE and CRESSIDA severally.

Ulys. All's done, my lord.

Troil Is it?

Ulys. Pray let us go.

Troil. Was Cressida here?

Ulys. I cannot conjure, Trojan.

Troil. She was not, sure! she was not; Let it not be believed, for womanhood: Think we had mothers, do not give advantage To biting satire, apt without a theme For defamation, to square all the sex By Cressid's rule; rather think this not Cressida.

Thers. Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?

Troil. This she! no, this was Diomede's Cressida. If beauty have a soul, this is not she:— I cannot speak for rage;—that ring was mine:— By heaven I gave it, in that point of time, When both our joys were fullest!—If he keeps it, Let dogs eat Troilus.

Thers. He'll tickle it for his concupy: this will be sport to see! Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore; a parrot will not do more for an almond, than he will for a commodious drab:—I would I could meet with this rogue Diomede too: I would croak like a raven to him; I would bode: it shall go hard but I'll find him out. [Exit THERSITES.

Enter AENEAS.

AEn. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord: Hector by this is arming him in Troy.

Ulys. Commend me, gallant Troilus, to your brother: Tell him, I hope he shall not need to arm; The fair Polyxena has, by a letter, Disarmed our great Achilles of his rage.

Troil. This I shall say to Hector.

Ulys. So I hope. Pray heaven Thersites have informed me true!— [Aside.

Troil. Good night, my lord; accept distracted thanks! [Exit ULYSSES.

Enter PANDARUS.

Pand. Hear ye, my lord, hear ye; I have been seeing yon poor girl. There have been old doings there, i'faith.

Troil. [Aside.] Hold yet, my spirits: let him pour it in: The poison's kind: the more I drink of it, The sooner 'twill dispatch me.

AEn. to Pand. Peace, thou babbler!

Pand. She has been mightily made on by the Greeks: she takes most wonderfully among 'em. Achilles kissed her, and Patroclus kissed her: nay, and old Nestor put aside his grey beard, and brushed her with his whiskers. Then comes me Agamemnon with his general's staff, diving with a low bow even to the ground, and rising again, just at her lips: and after him came Ulysses, and Ajax, and Menelaus: and they so pelted her, i'faith, pitter patter, pitter patter, as thick as hail-stones. And after that, a whole rout of 'em: never was a woman in Phrygia better kissed.

Troil. [Aside.] Hector said true: I find, I find it now!

Pand. And, last of all, comes me Diomede, so demurely: that's a notable sly rogue, I warrant him! mercy upon us, how he laid her on upon the lips! for, as I told you, she's most mightily made on among the Greeks. What, cheer up, I say, man! she has every one's good word. I think, in my conscience, she was born with a caul upon her head.

Troil. [Aside.] Hell, death, confusion, how he tortures me!

Pand. And that rogue-priest, my brother, is so courted and treated for her sake: the young sparks do so pull him about, and haul him by the cassock: nothing but invitations to his tent, and his tent, and his tent. Nay, and one of 'em was so bold, as to ask him, if she were a virgin; and with that, the rogue, my brother, takes me up a little god in his hand, and kisses it, and swears devoutly that she was; then was I ready to burst my sides with laughing, to think what had passed betwixt you two.

Troil. O I can bear no more! she's falsehood all: False by both kinds; for with her mother's milk She sucked the infusion of her father's soul. She only wants an opportunity; Her soul's a whore already.

Pand. What, would you make a monopoly of a woman's lips? a little consolation, or so, might be allowed, one would think, in a lover's absence.

Troil. Hence from my sight! Let ignominy brand thy hated name; Let modest matrons at thy mention start; And blushing virgins, when they read our annals, Skip o'er the guilty page that holds thy legend, And blots the noble work.

Pand. O world, world: thou art an ungrateful patch of earth! Thus the poor agent is despised! he labours painfully in his calling, and trudges between parties: but when their turns are served, come out's too good for him. I am mighty melancholy. I'll e'en go home, and shut up my doors, and die o' the sullens, like an old bird in a cage! [Exit PANDARUS.

Enter DIOMEDE and THERSITES.

Thers. [Aside.] There, there he is; now let it work: now play thy part, jealousy, and twinge 'em: put 'em between thy mill-stones, and grind the rogues together.

Diom. My lord, I am by Ajax sent to inform you, This hour must end the truce.

AEn. to Troil. Contain yourself: Think where we are.

Diom. Your stay will be unsafe.

Troil. It may, for those I hate.

Thers. [Aside.] Well said, Trojan: there's the first hit.

Diom. Beseech you, sir, make haste; my own affairs call me another way.

Thers. [Aside.] What affairs? what affairs? demand that, dolt-head! the rogue will lose a quarrel, for want of wit to ask that question.

Troil. May I enquire where your affairs conduct you?

Thers. [Aside.] Well said again; I beg thy pardon.

Diom. Oh, it concerns you not.

Troil. Perhaps it does.

Diom. You are too inquisitive: nor am I bound To satisfy an enemy's request.

Troil. You have a ring upon your finger, Diomede, And given you by a lady.

Diom. If it were, 'Twas given to one that can defend her gift.

Thers. [Aside.] So, so; the boars begin to gruntle at one another: set up your bristles now, a'both sides: whet and foam, rogues.

Troil. You must restore it, Greek, by heaven you must; No spoil of mine shall grace a traitor's hand: And, with it, give me back the broken vows Of my false fair; which, perjured as she is, I never will resign, but with my soul.

Diom. Then thou, it seems, art that forsaken fool, Who, wanting merit to preserve her heart, Repines in vain to see it better placed; But know, (for now I take a pride to grieve thee) Thou art so lost a thing in her esteem, I never heard thee named, but some scorn followed: Thou wert our table-talk for laughing meals; Thy name our sportful theme for evening-walks, And intermissive hours of cooler love, When hand in hand we went.

Troil. Hell and furies!

Thers. [Aside.] O well stung, scorpion! Now Menelaus's Greek horns are out o' doors, there's a new cuckold starts up on the Trojan side.

Troil. Yet this was she, ye gods, that very she, Who in my arms lay melting all the night; Who kissed and sighed, and sighed and kissed again, As if her soul flew upward to her lips, To meet mine there, and panted at the passage; Who, loth to find the breaking day, looked out, And shrunk into my bosom, there to make A little longer darkness.

Diom. Plagues and tortures!

Thers. Good, good, by Pluto! their fool's mad, to lose his harlot; and our fool's mad, that t'other fool had her first. If I sought peace now, I could tell 'em there's punk enough to satisfy 'em both: whore sufficient! but let 'em worry one another, the foolish curs; they think they never can have enough of carrion.

AEn. My lords, this fury is not proper here In time of truce; if either side be injured, To-morrow's sun will rise apace, and then—

Troil. And then! but why should I defer till then? My blood calls now, there is no truce for traitors; My vengeance rolls within my breast; it must, It will have vent,— [Draws.

Diom. Hinder us not, AEneas, My blood rides high as his; I trust thy honour, And know thou art too brave a foe to break it.— [Draws.

Thers. Now, moon! now shine, sweet moon! let them have just light enough to make their passes; and not enough to ward them.

AEn. [Drawing too.] By heaven, he comes on this, who strikes the first. You both are mad; is this like gallant men, To fight at midnight; at the murderer's hour; When only guilt and rapine draw a sword? Let night enjoy her dues of soft repose; But let the sun behold the brave man's courage. And this I dare engage for Diomede,— For though I am,—he shall not hide his head, But meet you in the very face of danger.

Diom. [Putting up.] Be't so; and were it on some precipice, High as Olympus, and a sea beneath, Call when thou dar'st, just on the sharpest point I'll meet, and tumble with thee to destruction.

Troil. A gnawing conscience haunts not guilty men, As I'll haunt thee, to summon thee to this; Nay, shouldst thou take the Stygian lake for refuge, I'll plunge in after, through the boiling flames, To push thee hissing down the vast abyss.

Diom. Where shall we meet?

Troil. Before the tent of Calchas. Thither, through all your troops, I'll fight my way; And in the sight of perjured Cressida, Give death to her through thee.

Diom. 'Tis largely promised; But I disdain to answer with a boast. Be sure thou shalt be met.

Troil. And thou be found. [Exeunt TROILUS and AENEAS one way; DIOMEDE the other.

Thers. Now the furies take AEneas, for letting them sleep upon their quarrel; who knows but rest may cool their brains, and make them rise maukish to mischief upon consideration? May each of them dream he sees his cockatrice in t'other's arms; and be stabbing one another in their sleep, to remember them of their business when they wake: let them be punctual to the point of honour; and, if it were possible, let both be first at the place of execution; let neither of them have cogitation enough, to consider 'tis a whore they fight for; and let them value their lives at as little as they are worth: and lastly, let no succeeding fools take warning by them; but, in imitation of them, when a strumpet is in question, Let them beneath their feet all reason trample, And think it great to perish by example. [Exit.

ACT V. SCENE I.

HECTOR, Trojans, ANDROMACHE.

Hect. The blue mists rise from off the nether grounds, And the sun mounts apace. To arms, to arms! I am resolved to put to the utmost proof The fate of Troy this day.

Andr. [Aside.] Oh wretched woman, oh!

Hect. Methought I heard you sigh, Andromache.

Andr. Did you, my lord?

Hect. Did you, my lord? you answer indirectly; Just when I said, that I would put our fate Upon the extremest proof, you fetched a groan; And, as you checked yourself for what you did, You stifled it and stopt. Come, you are sad.

Andr. The gods forbid!

Hect. What should the gods forbid?

Andr. That I should give you cause of just offence.

Hect. You say well; but you look not chearfully. I mean this day to waste the stock of war, And lay it prodigally out in blows. Come, gird my sword, and smile upon me, love; Like victory, come flying to my arms, And give me earnest of desired success.

Andr. The gods protect you, and restore you to me!

Hect. What, grown a coward! Thou wert used, Andromache, To give my courage courage; thou would'st cry,— Go Hector, day grows old, and part of fame Is ravished from thee by thy slothful stay.

Andr. [Aside.] What shall I do to seem the same I was?— Come, let me gird thy fortune to thy side, And conquest sit as close and sure as this. [She goes to gird his sword, and it falls. Now mercy, heaven! the gods avert this omen!

Hect. A foolish omen! take it up again, And mend thy error.

Andr. I cannot, for my hand obeys me not; But, as in slumbers, when we fain would run From our imagined fears, our idle feet Grow to the ground, our struggling voice dies inward; So now, when I would force myself to chear you, My faltering tongue can give no glad presage: Alas, I am no more Andromache.

Hect. Why then thy former soul is flown to me; For I, methinks, am lifted into air, As if my mind, mastering my mortal part, Would bear my exalted body to the gods. Last night I dreamt Jove sat on Ida's top, And, beckoning with his hand divine from far, He pointed to a choir of demi-gods, Bacchus and Hercules, and all the rest, Who, free from human toils, had gained the pitch Of blest eternity;—Lo there, he said, Lo there's a place for Hector.

Andr. Be to thy enemies this boding dream!

Hect. Why, it portends me honour and renown.

Andr. Such honour as the brave gain after death; For I have dreamt all night of horrid slaughters, Of trampling horses, and of chariot wheels Wading in blood up to their axle-trees; Of fiery demons gliding down the skies, And Ilium brightened with a midnight blaze: O therefore, if thou lovest me, go not forth.

Hect. Go to thy bed again, and there dream better.— Ho! bid my trumpet sound.

Andr. No notes of sally, for the heaven's sweet sake! 'Tis not for nothing when my spirits droop; This is a day when thy ill stars are strong, When they have driven thy helpless genius down The steep of heaven, to some obscure retreat.

Hect. No more; even as thou lovest my fame, no more; My honour stands engaged to meet Achilles. What will the Grecians think, or what will he, Or what will Troy, or what wilt thou thyself, When once this ague fit of fear is o'er, If I should lose my honour for a dream?

Andr. Your enemies too well your courage know, And heaven abhors the forfeit of rash vows, Like spotted livers in a sacrifice. I cannot, O I dare not let you go; For, when you leave me, my presaging mind Says, I shall never, never see you more.

Hect. Thou excellently good, but oh too soft, Let me not 'scape the danger of this day; But I have struggling in my manly soul, To see those modest tears, ashamed to fall, And witness any part of woman in thee! And now I fear, lest thou shouldst think it fear, If, thus dissuaded, I refuse to fight, And stay inglorious in thy arms at home.

Andr. Oh, could I have that thought, I should not love thee; Thy soul is proof to all things but to kindness; And therefore 'twas that I forbore to tell thee, How mad Cassandra, full of prophecy, Ran round the streets, and, like a Bacchanal, Cried,—Hold him, Priam, 'tis an ominous day; Let him not go, for Hector is no more.

Hect. Our life is short, but to extend that span To vast eternity, is virtue's work; Therefore to thee, and not to fear of fate, Which once must come to all, give I this day. But see thou move no more the like request; For rest assured, that, to regain this hour, To-morrow will I tempt a double danger. Mean time, let destiny attend thy leisure; I reckon this one day a blank of life.

Enter TROILUS.

Troil. Where are you, brother? now, in honour's name, What do you mean to be thus long unarmed? The embattled soldiers throng about the gates; The matrons to the turrets' tops ascend, Holding their helpless children in their arms, To make you early known to their young eyes, And Hector is the universal shout.

Hect. Bid all unarm; I will not fight to-day.

Troil. Employ some coward to bear back this news, And let the children hoot him for his pains. By all the gods, and by my just revenge, This sun shall shine the last for them or us; These noisy streets, or yonder echoing plains, Shall be to-morrow silent as the grave.

Andr. O brother, do not urge a brother's fate, But, let this wreck of heaven and earth roll o'er, And, when the storm is past, put out to sea.

Troil. O now I know from whence his change proceeds; Some frantic augur has observed the skies; Some victim wants a heart, or crow flies wrong. By heaven, 'twas never well, since saucy priests Grew to be masters of the listening herd, And into mitres cleft the regal crown; Then, as the earth were scanty for their power, They drew the pomp of heaven to wait on them. Shall I go publish, Hector dares not fight, Because a madman dreamt he talked with Jove? What could the god see in a brain-sick priest, That he should sooner talk to him than me?

Hect. You know my name's not liable to fear.

Troil. Yes, to the worst of fear,—to superstition. But whether that, or fondness of a wife, (The more unpardonable ill) has seized you, Know this, the Grecians think you fear Achilles, And that Polyxena has begged your life.

Hect. How! that my life is begged, and by my sister?

Troil. Ulysses so informed me at our parting, With a malicious and disdainful smile: 'Tis true, he said not, in broad words, you feared; But in well-mannered terms 'twas so agreed, Achilles should avoid to meet with Hector.

Hect. He thinks my sister's treason my petition; That, largely vaunting, in my heat of blood, More than I could, it seems, or durst perform, I sought evasion.

Troil. And in private prayed—

Hect. O yes, Polyxena to beg my life.

Andr. He cannot think so;—do not urge him thus.

Hect. Not urge me! then thou think'st I need his urging. By all the gods, should Jove himself descend, And tell me,—Hector, thou deservest not life, But take it as a boon,—I would not live. But that a mortal man, and he, of all men, Should think my life were in his power to give, I will not rest, till, prostrate on the ground, I make him, atheist-like, implore his breath Of me, and not of heaven.

Troil. Then you'll refuse no more to fight?

Hect. Refuse! I'll not be hindered, brother. I'll through and through them, even their hindmost ranks, Till I have found that large-sized boasting fool, Who dares presume my life is in his gift.

Andr. Farewell, farewell; 'tis vain to strive with fate! Cassandra's raging god inspires my breast With truths that must be told, and not believed. Look how he dies! look how his eyes turn pale! Look how his blood bursts out at many vents! Hark how Troy roars, how Hecuba cries out, And widowed I fill all the streets with screams! Behold distraction, frenzy, and amazement, Like antiques meet, and tumble upon heaps! And all cry, Hector, Hector's dead! Oh Hector! [Exit.

Hect. What sport will be, when we return at evening, To laugh her out of countenance for her dreams!

Troil. I have not quenched my eyes with dewy sleep this night; But fiery fumes mount upward to my brains, And, when I breathe, methinks my nostrils hiss! I shall turn basilisk, and with my sight Do my hands' work on Diomede this day.

Hect. To arms, to arms! the vanguards are engaged Let us not leave one man to guard the walls; Both old and young, the coward and the brave, Be summoned all, our utmost fate to try, And as one body move, whose soul am I. [Exeunt.

SCENE II—The Camp.

Alarm within. Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, MENELAUS, Soldiers.

Agam. Thus far the promise of the day is fair. AEneas rather loses ground than gains. I saw him over-laboured, taking breath, And leaning on his spear, behold our trenches, Like a fierce lion looking up to toils, Which yet he durst not leap.

Ulys. And therefore distant death does all the work; The flights of whistling darts make brown the sky, Whose clashing points strike fire, and gild the dusk; Those, that reach home, from neither host are vain, So thick the prease; so lusty are their arms, That death seemed never sent with better will. Nor was with less concernment entertained.

Enter NESTOR.

Agam. Now, Nestor, what's the news?

Nest. I have descried A cloud of dust, that mounts in pillars upwards, Expanding as it travels to our camp; And from the midst I heard a bursting shout, That rent the heaven; as if all Troy were swarmed. And on the wing this way.

Menel. Let them come, let them come.

Agam. Where's great Achilles?

Ulys. Think not on Achilles, Till Hector drag him from his tent to fight; Which sure he will, for I have laid the train.

Nest. But young Patroclus leads his Myrmidons, And in their front, even in the face of Hector, Resolves to dare the Trojans.

Agam. Haste, Ulysses, bid Ajax issue forth and second him.

Ulys. Oh noble general, let it not be so. Oppose not rage, while rage is in its force, But give it way awhile, and let it waste. The rising deluge is not stopt with dams; Those it o'erbears, and drowns the hopes of harvest; But, wisely managed, its divided strength Is sluiced in channels, and securely drained. First, let small parties dally with their fury; But when their force is spent and unsupplied, The residue with mounds may be restrained, And dry-shod we may pass the naked ford.

Enter THERSITES.

Thers. Ho, ho, ho!

Menel. Why dost thou laugh, unseasonable fool?

Thers. Why, thou fool in season, cannot a man laugh, but thou thinkest he makes horns at thee? Thou prince of the herd, what hast thou to do with laughing? 'Tis the prerogative of a man, to laugh. Thou risibility without reason, thou subject of laughter, thou fool royal!

Ulys. But tell us the occasion of thy mirth?

Thers. Now a man asks me, I care not if I answer to my own kind.—Why, the enemies are broken into our trenches; fools like Menelaus fall by thousands yet not a human soul departs on either side. Troilus and Ajax have almost beaten one another's heads off, but are both immortal for want of brains. Patroclus has killed Sarpedon, and Hector Patroclus, so there is a towardly springing fop gone off; he might have made a prince one day, but now he's nipt in the very bud and promise of a most prodigious coxcomb.

Agam. Bear off Patroclus' body to Achilles; Revenge will arm him now, and bring us aid. The alarm sounds near, and shouts are driven upon us, As of a crowd confused in their retreat.

Ulys. Open your ranks, and make these madmen way, Then close again to charge upon their backs, And quite consume the relics of the war. [Exeunt all but THERSITES.

Thers. What shoals of fools one battle sweeps away! How it purges families of younger brothers, highways of robbers, and cities of cuckold-makers! There is nothing like a pitched battle for these brisk addle-heads! Your physician is a pretty fellow, but his fees make him tedious, he rides not fast enough; the fools grow upon him, and their horse bodies are poison proof. Your pestilence is a quicker remedy, but it has not the grace to make distinction; it huddles up honest men and rogues together. But your battle has discretion; it picks out all the forward fools, and sowses them together into immortality. [Shouts and alarms within] Plague upon these drums and trumpets! these sharp sauces of the war, to get fools an appetite to fighting! What do I among them? I shall be mistaken for some valiant ass, and die a martyr in a wrong religion. [Here Grecians fly over the stage pursued by Trojans; one Trojan turns back upon THERSITES who is flying too.

Troj. Turn, slave, and fight.

Thers. [turning.] What art thou?

Troj. A bastard son of Priam's.

Thers. I am a bastard too, I love bastards, I am bastard in body, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. A bear will not fasten upon a bear; why should one bastard offend another! Let us part fair, like true sons of whores, and have the fear of our mothers before our eyes.

Troj. The devil take thee, coward. [Exit Troj.

Thers. Now, would I were either invisible or invulnerable! These gods have a fine time on it; they can see and make mischief, and never feel it. [Clattering of swords at both doors; he runs each way, and meets the noise. A pox clatter you! I am compassed in. Now would I were that blockhead Ajax for a minute. Some sturdy Trojan will poach me up with a long pole! and then the rogues may kill one another at free cost, and have nobody left to laugh at them. Now destruction! now destruction!

Enter HECTOR and TROILUS driving in the Greeks.

Hect. to Thers. Speak what part thou fightest on!

Thers. I fight not at all; I am for neither side.

Hect. Thou art a Greek; art thou a match for Hector? Art thou of blood and honour?

Thers. No, I am a rascal, a scurvy railing knave, a very filthy rogue.

Hect. I do believe thee; live.

Thers. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but the devil break thy neck for frighting me. [Aside.

Troil. (returning.) What prisoner have you there?

Hect. A gleaning of the war; a rogue, he says.

Troil. Dispatch him, and away. [Going to kill him.

Thers. Hold, hold!—what, is it no more but dispatch a man and away! I am in no such haste: I will not die for Greece; I hate Greece, and by my good will would never have been born there; I was mistaken into that country, and betrayed by my parents to be born there. And besides, I have a mortal enemy among the Grecians, one Diomede, a damned villain, and cannot die with a safe conscience till I have first murdered him.

Troil. Shew me that Diomede, and thou shalt live.

Thers. Come along with me, and I will conduct thee to Calchas's tent, where I believe he is now, making war with the priest's daughter.

Hect. Here we must part, our destinies divide us; Brother and friend, farewell.

Troil. When shall we meet?

Hect. When the gods please; if not, we once must part. Look; on yon hill their squandered troops unite.

Troil. If I mistake not, 'tis their last reserve: The storm's blown o'er, and those but after-drops.

Hect. I wish our men be not too far engaged; For few we are and spent, as having born The burthen of the day: But, hap what can, They shall be charged; Achilles must be there, And him I seek, or death. Divide our troops, and take the fresher half.

Troil. O brother!

Hect. No dispute of ceremony: These are enow for me, in faith enow. Their bodies shall not flag while I can lead; Nor wearied limbs confess mortality, Before those ants, that blacken all yon hill, Are crept into the earth. Farewell. [Exit HECT.

Troil. Farewell.—Come, Greek.

Thers. Now these rival rogues will clapperclaw one another, and I shall have the sport of it. [Exit TROIL. with THERS.

Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons.

Achill. Which way went Hector?

Myrmid. Up yon sandy hill; You may discern them by their smoking track: A wavering body working with bent hams Against the rising, spent with painful march, And by loose footing cast on heaps together.

Achil. O thou art gone, thou sweetest, best of friends! Why did I let thee tempt the shock of war, Ere yet the tender nerves had strung thy limbs, And knotted into strength! Yet, though too late, I will, I will revenge thee, my Patroclus! Nor shall thy ghost thy murderers long attend, But thou shalt hear him calling Charon back, Ere thou art wafted to the farther shore.— Make haste, my soldiers; give me this day's pains For my dead friend: strike every hand with mine, Till Hector breathless on the ground we lay! Revenge is honour, the securest way. [Exit with Myrm.

Enter THERSITES, TROILUS, Trojans.

Thers. That's Calchas's tent.

Troil. Then, that one spot of earth contains more falsehood, Than all the sun sees in his race beside. That I should trust the daughter of a priest! Priesthood, that makes a merchandise of heaven! Priesthood, that sells even to their prayers and blessings And forces us to pay for our own cozenage!

Thers. Nay, cheats heaven too with entrails and with offals; Gives it the garbage of a sacrifice, And keeps the best for private luxury.

Troil. Thou hast deserved thy life for cursing priests. Let me embrace thee; thou art beautiful: That back, that nose, those eyes are beautiful: Live; thou art honest, for thou hat'st a priest.

Thers. [Aside.] Farewell, Trojan; if I escape with life, as I hope, and thou art knocked on the head, as I hope too, I shall be the first that ever escaped the revenge of a priest after cursing him; and thou wilt not be the last, I prophesy, that a priest will bring to ruin. [Exit THER.

Troil. Methinks, my soul is roused to her last work; Has much to do, and little time to spare. She starts within me, like a traveller, Who sluggishly outslept his morning hour, And mends his pace to reach his inn betimes. [Noise within, Follow, follow! A noise of arms! the traitor may be there; Or else, perhaps, that conscious scene of love, The tent, may hold him; yet I dare not search, For oh, I fear to find him in that place. [Exit TROILUS.

Enter CALCHAS and CRESSIDA.

Cres. Where is he? I'll be justified, or die.

Calch. So quickly vanished! he was here but now. He must be gone to search for Diomede; For Diomede told me, here they were to fight.

Cres. Alas!

Calch. You must prevent, and not complain.

Cres. If Troilus die, I have no share in life.

Calch. If Diomede sink beneath the sword of Troilus We lose not only a protector here, But are debarred all future means of flight.

Cres. What then remains?

Calch. To interpose betimes Betwixt their swords; or, if that cannot be, To intercede for him, who shall be vanquished. Fate leaves no middle course. [Exit CALCHAS.

Clashing within.

Cres. Ah me! I hear them, And fear 'tis past prevention.

Enter DIOMEDE, retiring before TROILUS, and falling as he enters.

Troil. Now beg thy life, or die.

Diom. No; use thy fortune: I loath the life, which thou canst give, or take.

Troil. Scorn'st thou my mercy, villain!—Take thy wish.—

Cres. Hold, hold your hand, my lord, and hear me speak. [TROILUS turns back; in which time DIOMEDE rises, Trojans and Greeks enter, and rank themselves on both sides of their Captains.

Troil. Did I not hear the voice of perjured Cressida? Com'st thou to give the last stab to my heart? As if the proofs of all thy former falsehood Were not enough convincing, com'st thou now To beg my rival's life? Whom, oh, if any spark of truth remained, Thou couldst not thus, even to my face, prefer.

Cres. What shall I say!—that you suspect me false, Has struck me dumb! but let him live, my Troilus; By all our loves, by all our past endearments, I do adjure thee, spare him.

Troil. Hell and death!

Cres. If ever I had power to bend your mind, Believe me still your faithful Cressida; And though my innocence appear like guilt, Because I make his forfeit life my suit, 'Tis but for this, that my return to you Would be cut off for ever by his death; My father, treated like a slave, and scorned; Myself in hated bonds a captive held.

Troil. Could I believe thee, could I think thee true, In triumph would I bear thee back to Troy, Though Greece could rally all her shattered troops, And stand embattled to oppose my way. But, oh, thou syren, I will stop my ears To thy enchanting notes; the winds shall bear Upon their wings thy words, more light than they.

Cres. Alas! I but dissembled love to him. If ever he had any proof, beyond What modesty might give—

Diom. No! witness this.— [The Ring shewn. There, take her, Trojan, thou deserv'st her best; You good, kind-natured, well-believing fools, Are treasures to a woman. I was a jealous, hard, vexatious lover, And doubted even this pledge,—till full possession; But she was honourable to her word, And I have no just reason to complain.

Cres. O unexampled, frontless impudence!

Troil. Hell, show me such another tortured wretch as Troilus!

Diom. Nay, grieve not; I resign her freely up; I'm satisfied; and dare engage for Cressida, That, if you have a promise of her person, She shall be willing to come out of debt.

Cres. [Kneeling.] My only lord, by all those holy vows, Which, if there be a Power above, are binding, Or, if there be a hell below, are fearful, May every imprecation, which your rage Can wish on me, take place, if I am false!

Diom. Nay, since you're so concerned to be believed, I'm sorry I have pressed my charge so far: Be what you would be thought; I can be grateful.

Troil. Grateful! Oh torment! now hell's bluest flames Receive her quick, with all her crimes upon her! Let her sink spotted down! let the dark host Make room, and point, and hiss her as she goes! Let the most branded ghosts of all her sex Rejoice, and cry,—"Here comes a blacker fiend!" Let her—

Cres. Enough, my lord; you've said enough. This faithless, perjured, hated Cressida, Shall be no more the subject of your curses: Some few hours hence, and grief had done your work; But then your eyes had missed the satisfaction, Which thus I give you,—thus— [She stabs herself; they both run to her.

Diom. Help! save her, help!

Cres. Stand off, and touch me not, thou traitor Diomede;— But you, my only Troilus, come near: Trust me, the wound, which I have given this breast, Is far less painful than the wound you gave it. Oh, can you yet believe, that I am true?

Troil. This were too much, even if thou hadst been false! But oh, thou purest, whitest innocence,— For such I know thee now, too late I know it!— May all my curses, and ten thousand more, Heavier than they, fall back upon my head; Pelion and Ossa, from the giants' graves Be torn by some avenging deity, And hurled at me, a bolder wretch than they, Who durst invade the skies!

Cres. Hear him not, heavens; But hear me bless him with my latest breath! And, since I question not your hard decree, That doomed my days unfortunate and few, Add all to him you take away from me; And I die happy, that he thinks me true. [Dies.

Troil. She's gone for ever, and she blest me dying! Could she have cursed me worse! she died for me, And, like a woman, I lament for her. Distraction pulls me several ways at once: Here pity calls me to weep out my eyes, Despair then turns me back upon myself, And bids me seek no more, but finish here. [Points his Sword to his Breast. Ha, smilest thou, traitor! thou instruct'st me best, And turn'st my just revenge to punish thee.

Diom. Thy worst, for mine has been beforehand with thee; I triumph in thy vain credulity, Which levels thy despairing state to mine; But yet thy folly, to believe a foe, Makes thine the sharper and more shameful loss.

Troil. By my few moments of remaining life, I did not hope for any future joy; But thou hast given me pleasure ere I die, To punish such a villain.—Fight apart; [To his Soldiers. For heaven and hell have marked him out for me, And I should grudge even his least drop of blood To any other hand. [TROILUS and DIOMEDE fight, and both Parties engage at the same time. The Trojans make the Greeks retire, and TROILUS makes DIOMEDE give ground, and hurts him. Trumpets sound. ACHILLES enters with his Myrmidons, on the backs of the Trojans, who fight in a ring, encompassed round. TROILUS, singling DIOMEDE, gets him down, and kills him; and ACHILLES kills TROILUS upon him. All the Trojans die upon the place, TROILUS last.

Enter AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, AJAX, and Attendants.

Achil. Our toils are done, and those aspiring walls, The work of gods, and almost mating heaven, Must crumble into rubbish on the plain.

Agam. When mighty Hector fell beneath thy sword, Their old foundations shook; their nodding towers Threatened from high the amazed inhabitants; And guardian-gods, for fear, forsook their fanes.

Achil. Patroclus, now be quiet; Hector's dead; And, as a second offering to thy ghost, Lies Troilus high upon a heap of slain; And noble Diomede beneath, whose death This hand of mine revenged.

Ajax. Revenged it basely: For Troilus fell by multitudes opprest, And so fell Hector; but 'tis vain to talk.

Ulys. Hail, Agamemnon! truly victor now! While secret envy, and while open pride, Among thy factious nobles discord threw; While public good was urged for private ends, And those thought patriots, who disturbed it most; Then, like the headstrong horses of the sun, That light, which should have cheered the world, consumed it: Now peaceful order has resumed the reins, Old Time looks young, and Nature seems renewed. Then, since from home-bred factions ruin springs, Let subjects learn obedience to their kings. [Exeunt.



EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY THERSITES.

These cruel critics put me into passion; For, in their lowering looks I read damnation: You expect a satire, and I seldom fail; When I'm first beaten, 'tis my part to rail. You British fools, of the old Trojan stock, That stand so thick, one cannot miss the flock, Poets have cause to dread a keeping pit, When women's cullies come to judge of wit. As we strew rat's-bane when we vermin fear, 'Twere worth our cost to scatter fool-bane here; And, after all our judging fops were served, Dull poets, too, should have a dose reserved; Such reprobates, as, past all sense of shaming, Write on, and ne'er are satisfied with damning: Next, those, to whom the stage does not belong, Such whose vocation only is—to song; At most to prologue, when, for want of time, Poets take in for journey-work in rhime. But I want curses for those mighty shoals Of scribbling Chloris's, and Phyllis' fools: Those oafs should be restrained, during their lives, From pen and ink, as madmen are from knives. I could rail on, but 'twere a task as vain, As preaching truth at Rome, or wit in Spain: Yet, to huff out our play was worth my trying; John Lilburn 'scaped his judges by defying:[1] If guilty, yet I'm sure o' the church's blessing, By suffering for the plot, without confessing.

Footnote: 1. Lilburn, the most turbulent, but the boldest and most upright of men, had the merit of defying and resisting the tyranny of the king, of the parliament, and of the protector. He was convicted in the star-chamber, but liberated by the parliament; he was tried on the parliamentary statute for treasons in 1651, and before Cromwell's high court of justice in 1654; and notwithstanding an audacious defence,—which to some has been more perilous than a feeble cause,—he was, in both cases, triumphantly acquitted.

* * * * *

THE

SPANISH FRIAR;

OR,

THE DOUBLE DISCOVERY.

Ut melius possis fallere, sume togam. —MART.

—Alterna revisens Lasit, et in solido rursus fortuna locavit. —VIRG.



THE SPANISH FRIAR.

The Spanish Friar, or the Double Discovery, is one of the best and most popular of our poet's dramatic efforts. The plot is, as Johnson remarks, particularly happy, for the coincidence and coalition of the tragic and comic plots. The grounds for this eminent critic's encomium will be found to lie more deep than appears at first sight. It was, indeed, a sufficiently obvious connection, to make the gay Lorenzo an officer of the conquering army, and attached to the person of Torrismond. This expedient could hardly have escaped the invention of the most vulgar playwright, that ever dovetailed tragedy and comedy together. The felicity of Dryden's plot, therefore, does not consist in the ingenuity of his original conception, but in the minutely artificial strokes, by which the reader is perpetually reminded of the dependence of the one part of the play on the other. These are so frequent, and appear so very natural, that the comic plot, instead of diverting our attention from the tragic business, recals it to our mind by constant and unaffected allusion. No great event happens in the higher region of the camp or court, that has not some indirect influence upon the intrigues of Lorenzo and Elvira; and the part which the gallant is called upon to act in the revolution that winds up the tragic interest, while it is highly in character, serves to bring the catastrophe of both parts of the play under the eye of the spectator, at one and the same time. Thus much seemed necessary to explain the felicity of combination, upon which Dryden justly valued himself, and which Johnson sanctioned by his high commendation. But, although artfully conjoined, the different departments of this tragi-comedy are separate subjects of critical remark.

The comic part of the Spanish Friar, as it gives the first title to the play, seems to claim our first attention. Indeed, some precedence is due to it in another point of view; for, though the tragic scenes may be matched in All for Love, Don Sebastian, and else where, the Spanish Friar contains by far the most happy of Dryden's comic effusions. It has, comparatively speaking, this high claim to commendation, that, although the intrigue is licentious, according to the invariable licence of the age, the language is, in general, free from the extreme and disgusting coarseness, which our author too frequently mistook for wit, or was contented to substitute in its stead. The liveliness and even brilliancy of the dialogue, shows that Dryden, from the stores of his imagination, could, when he pleased, command that essential requisite of comedy; and that, if he has seldom succeeded, it was only because he mistook the road, or felt difficulty in travelling it. The character of Dominic is of that broadly ludicrous nature, which was proper to the old comedy. It would be difficult to show an ordinary conception more fully brought out. He is, like Falstaff, a compound of sensuality and talent, finely varied by the professional traits with which it suited the author's purpose to adorn his character. Such an addition was, it is true, more comic than liberal; but Dryden, whose constant dislike to the clerical order glances out in many of his performances, was not likely to be scrupulous, when called upon to pourtray one of their members in his very worst colours. To counterbalance the Friar's scandalous propensities of every sort, and to render him an object of laughter, rather than abhorrence, the author has gifted this reprobate churchman with a large portion of wit; by means of which, and by a ready presence of mind, always indicative of energy, he preserves an ascendence over the other characters, and escapes detection and disgrace, until poetical justice, and the conclusion of the play, called for his punishment. We have a natural indulgence for an amusing libertine; and, I believe, that, as most readers commiserate the disgrace of Falstaff, a few may be found to wish that Dominic's penance had been of a nature more decent and more theatrical than the poet has assigned him[1]. From the dedication, as well as the prologue, it appears that Dryden, however contrary to his sentiments at a future period, was, at present, among those who held up to contempt and execration the character of the Roman catholic priesthood. By one anonymous lampoon, this is ascribed to a temporary desertion of the court party, in resentment for the loss, or discontinuance of his pension. This allowance, during the pressure upon the Exchequer, was, at least, irregularly paid, of which Dryden repeatedly complains, and particularly in a letter to the Earl of Rochester. But the hardship was owing entirely to the poverty of the public purse; and, when the anonymous libeller affirms, that Dryden's pension was withdrawn, on account of his share in the Essay on Satire, he only shows that his veracity is on a level with his poverty[2]. The truth seems to be, that Dryden partook in some degree of the general ferment which the discovery of the Popish Plot had excited; and we may easily suppose him to have done so without any impeachment to his monarchial tenets, since North himself admits, that at the first opening of the plot, the chiefs of the loyal party joined in the cry. Indeed, that mysterious transaction had been investigated by none more warmly than by Danby, the king's favourite minister, and a high favourer of the prerogative. Even when writing Absalom and Achitophel, our author by no means avows an absolute disbelief of the whole plot, while condemning the extraordinary exaggerations, by which it had been rendered the means of much bloodshed and persecution[3]. It seems, therefore, fair to believe, that, without either betraying or disguising his own principles, he chose, as a popular subject for the drama, an attack upon an obnoxious priesthood, whom he, in common with all the nation, believed to have been engaged in the darkest intrigues against the king and government. I am afraid that this task was the more pleasing, from that prejudice against the clergy, of all countries and religions, which, as already noticed, our author displays, in common with other wits of that licentious age[4]. The character of the Spanish Friar was not, however, forgotten, when Dryden became a convert to the Roman Catholic persuasion; and, in many instances, as well as in that just quoted, it was assumed as the means of fixing upon him a charge of inconsistency in politics, and versatility in religion[5].