there was never a truer rhime. 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?

Tro.
Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity,
That the blest gods—as angry with my fancy,
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities—take thee from me.

Cre.
Have the gods envy?

Pan.
Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case.

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

Tro.
A hateful truth.

Cre.
What, and from Troilus too?

Tro.
From Troy, and Troilus.

Cre.
Is't possible?

Tro.
And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath:
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:
As many farewels as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu;
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears* ^note.

&blquo;Æne. [within.]
&blquo;My lord! lord Troilus! is the lady ready?

&blquo;Tro.
&blquo;Hark! you are call'd: some say, the Genius so
&blquo;Cries, Come, to him that instantly must die.—
&blquo;Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.

&blquo;Pan.
&blquo;Where are my tears? rain, rain, to lay this wind,
&blquo;Or my poor heart will be blown up by the root. [Exit Pandarus.

Cre.
I must then to the Grecians?

Tro.
No remedy.

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks.—
&blquo;When shall we see again?

&blquo;Tro.
&blquo;Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart—

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;I true! how now? what wicked deem is this?

&blquo;Tro.
&blquo;Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
&blquo;For it is parting from us.
&blquo;I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
&blquo;For I will throw my glove to death himself,
&blquo;That there's no maculation in thy heart:
&blquo;But, be thou true, say I, to fashion in
&blquo;My sequent protestation; be thou true,
&blquo;And I will see thee.

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

&blquo;Tro.
&blquo;And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;And you this glove. When shall I see you

Tro.
I will corrupt the Grecian centinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet, be true.

Cre.
O heavens! be true, again?

Tro.
Hear why I speak it, love: The Grecian youths
Are well compos'd, with gifts of nature flowing,
And swelling o'er with arts and exercise;
How novelties may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy
(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin)
Makes me afeard.

Cre.
O heavens!—
You love me not.

Tro.
Die I a villain then!
In this I do not call your faith in question,
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:
But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,
That tempts most cunningly; but be not tempted.

Cre.
Do you think, I will?

Tro.
No.
But something may be done, that we will not;
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.

Æne. [within.]
Nay, good my lord,—

Tro.
Come, kiss; and let us part.

Par. [within.]
Brother Troilus!

Tro.
Good brother, come you hither;
And bring Æneas, and the Grecian, with you.

Cre.
My lord, will you be true?

&blquo;Tro.
&blquo;Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:
&blquo;While others fish with craft for great opinion,
&blquo;I with great truth catch meer simplicity;
&blquo;Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns,
&blquo;With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
&blquo;Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit
&blquo;Is—plain, and true,—there's all the reach of it. Enter Paris, Diomed, and Æneas.
Welcome, sir Diomed! here is the lady,
Which for Antenor we deliver you:
At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand;
And, by the way, possess thee what she is.
Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek,
If ere thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Ilion.

Dio.
Fair lady Cressid,
So please you, save the thanks this prince expects:
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,

Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.

&blquo;Tro.
&blquo;Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,
&blquo;To shame the zeal of my petition to thee,
&blquo;In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece,
&blquo;She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises,
&blquo;As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant.
&blquo;I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge;
&blquo;For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
&blquo;Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
&blquo;I'll cut thy throat.

&blquo;Dio.
&blquo;O, be not mov'd, prince Troilus:
&blquo;Let me be priviledg'd by my place, and message,
&blquo;To be a speaker free; when I am hence,
&blquo;I'll answer to my lust: and know you, lord,
&blquo;I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth
&blquo;She shall be priz'd; but that you say—be't so,
&blquo;I speak it in my spirit and honour, no.

Tro.
Come, to the port:—&blquo;I tell thee, Diomed,
&blquo;This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.—
Lady, give me your hand! and, as we walk,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk. [Exeunt Tro. and Cre. Trumpet heard.

Par.
Hark! Hector's trumpet.

Æne.
How have we spent this morning!
The prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him to the field.

Par.
'Tis Troilus' fault: come, come, to field with him. [Exeunt. SCENE V. The Grecian Camp: Lists set out; Attendants, and People, waiting. Flourish. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Achilles, Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulysses, and others; with Ajax, arm'd.

Aga.
Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,
Anticipating time with starting courage.
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant,
And hale him hither.

Ajax.
Thou, trumpet, there's my purse.
Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe;
Blow, villain, 'till thy sphered bias cheek
Out-swell the cholic of puft Aquilon:
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood;
Thou blow'st for Hector. [Parle sounded.

Uly.
No trumpet answers.

Ach.
'Tis but early day.

Aga.
Is not yon' Diomed, with Calchas' daughter?

Uly.
'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait,
He rises on the toe; that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth. Enter Diomed and Attendants, with Cressida.

Aga.
Is this the lady Cressida?

Dio.
Even she.

Aga.
Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.

Nes.
Our general doth salute you with a kiss.

Uly.
Yet is the kindness but particular;
'Twere better, she were kiss'd in general* ^note.

Nes.
And very courtly counsel: I'll begin.—
So much for Nestor.

Ach.
I'll take that winter from your lips, fair lady:
Achilles bids you welcome.

Men.
I had good argument for kissing once.

Pat.
But that's no argument for kissing now:
For thus popt Paris in his hardiment;
And parted thus you and your argument.

&blquo;Uly.
&blquo;O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns!
&blquo;For which we lose our heads, to gild his horns.

&blquo;Pat.
&blquo;The first was Menelaus' kiss; this, mine:
&blquo;Patroclus kisses you.

&blquo;Men.
&blquo;O, this is trim!

&blquo;Pat.
&blquo;Paris, and I, kiss evermore for him.

&blquo;Men.
&blquo;I'll have my kiss, sir:—Lady, by your leave.

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;In kissing, do you render, or receive?

&blquo;Pat.
&blquo;Both take and give.

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;I'll make my match to live,
&blquo;The kiss you take is better than you give;
&blquo;Therefore no kiss.

&blquo;Men.
&blquo;I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;You're an odd man; give even, or give none.

&blquo;Men.
&blquo;An odd man, lady? every man is odd.

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;No, Paris is not; for, you know, 'tis true,
&blquo;That you are odd, and he is even with you.

&blquo;Men.
&blquo;You fillip me o'the head.

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;No, I'll be sworn.

&blquo;Uly.
&blquo;It were no match, your nail against his horn.
&blquo;May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;You may.

&blquo;Uly.
&blquo;I do desire it.

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;Why, beg then.

&blquo;Uly.
&blquo;Why then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss,
&blquo;When Helen is a maid again, and his.

&blquo;Cre.
&blquo;I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due.

&blquo;Uly.
&blquo;Never's my day, and then a kiss of you.

&blquo;Dio.
&blquo;Lady, a word; I'll bring you to your father. [Exeunt Dio. and Cre.

&blquo;Nes.
&blquo;A woman of quick sense.

&blquo;Uly.
&blquo;Fie, fie upon her!
&blquo;There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
&blquo;Nay, her foot speaks: her wanton spirits look out
&blquo;At every joint and motive of her body.
&blquo;O these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
&blquo;That give a coasting welcome ere it comes,
&blquo;And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
&blquo;To every tickling reader! set them down
&blquo;For sluttish spoils of opportunity,
&blquo;And daughters of the game. [Trumpet heard.

All.
The Trojans' trumpet.

Aga.
Yonder comes the troop. Flourish. Enter Hector, arm'd; Troilus, and other Trojans, with him; Æneas preceding.

Æne.
Hail all the state of Greece! What shall be done to him
That victory commands! Or do you purpose,
A victor shall be known? will you, the knights
Shall to the edge of all extremity
Pursue each other; or shall they be divided

By any voice or order of the field?
Hector bade ask.

Aga.
Which way would Hector have it?

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

Ach.
'Tis done like Hector; but securely done,
A little proudly, and great deal misprising
The knight oppos'd.

Æne.
If not Achilles, sir,
What is your name?

Ach.
If not Achilles, nothing.

Æne.
Therefore Achilles: But, whate'er, know this,—
In the extremity of great and little,
Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector;
The one almost as infinite as all,
The other blank as nothing. Weigh him 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;
Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek
This blended knight, half Trojan, and half Greek.

Ach.
A maiden battle then? O, I perceive you. Re-enter Diomed.

Aga.
Here is sir Diomed:—Go, gentle knight,
Stand by our Ajax: As you and lord Æneas
Consent upon the order of their fight,
So be it; either to the uttermost,
Or else a breath: the combatants being kin,
Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. [Ajax and Hector enter the Lists, Æneas and Diomed marshaling: Greeks range themselves on one side, and Trojans upon the other, without.

Aga.
Ulysses,
What Trojan is that same, that looks so heavy?

Uly.
The youngest son of Priam, a true knight;
Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word;
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue;
Not soon provok'd, nor, being provok'd, soon calm'd:
His heart and hand both open, and both free;
For what he has, he gives, what thinks, he shews;
Yet gives he not 'till judgment guide his bounty,

Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath:
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;
For Hector in his blaze of wrath, subscribes
To tender objects; but he, in heat of action,
Is more vindicative than jealous love:
* ^noteThey call him, Troilus; and on him erect
A second hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus says Æneas; one that knows the youth
Even to his inches, and, with private soul,
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me. [Trumpets blow to arms. Ajax and Hector fight.

Aga.
They are in action.

Nes.
Now, Ajax, hold thine own.

Tro.
Hector thou sleep'st, awake thee.

Aga.
His blows are well dispos'd:—there, Ajax.

Dio.
You must no more.

Æne.
Princes, enough, so please you. Interposing. Trumpets cease.

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

Dio.
As Hector pleases.

Hec.
Why then, will I no more:—
Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son,
A cousin-german to great Priam's seed;
The obligation of our blood forbids
A gory emulation 'twixt us twain:
Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so,
That thou could'st say—This hand is Grecian all,
And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg
All Greece, and this all Troy; my mother's blood
Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister
Bounds in my father's; by Jove multipotent,
Thou should'st not bear from me a Greekish member
Wherein my sword had not impressure made
Of our rank feud: But the just gods gainsay,
That any drop thou borrowd'st from thy mother,
My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword
Be drained out! Let me embrace thee, Ajax:
By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms:

Hector would have them fall upon him thus:
Cousin, all honour to thee* ^note!

Aja.
I thank thee, Hector:
Thou art too gentle, and too free a man:
I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence
A great addition earned in thy death.

Hec.
Not Neoptolemus' sire so mirable
(On whose bright crest Fame, with her loud'st O yes,
Cries, This is he) could promise to himself
A thought of added honour torn from Hector.

Æne.
There is expectance here from both the sides,
What further you will do.

Hec.
We'll answer it;
The issue is embracement:—Ajax, farewel.

Aja.
If I might in entreaties find success,
(As seld I have the chance) I would desire
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.

Dio.
'Tis Agamemnon's wish; and great Achilles
Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector.

Hec.
Æneas, call my brother Troilus to me:
And signify this loving interview
To the expectors of our Trojan part;
Desire them home.—Give me thy hand, my cousin:
I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.

Aja.
Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here. Chiefs enter the lists.

Hec.
The worthiest of them tell me name by name;
But for Achilles, my own searching eyes
Shall find him by his large and portly size.

Aga.
Worthy of arms, as welcome as to one
That would be rid of such an enemy,
But that's no welcome: Understand more clear,
What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd with husks
And formless ruin of oblivion;
But in this extant moment, faith and troth,

Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing,
Bids thee, with most divine integrity,
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.

Hec.
I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.

Aga.
My well-fam'd lord of Troy, [to Tro.] no less to you.

Men.
Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting;—
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.

Hec.
Whom must we answer?

Æne.
The noble Menelaus.

Hec.
O, you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, thanks!
Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath;
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove:
She's well, but bad me not commend her to you.

Men.
Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly theme.

Hec.
O, pardon; I offend.

Nes.
I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft,
Lab'ring for destiny, make cruel way
Through ranks of Greekish youth: And I have seen thee,
As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed,
Despising many forfeits and subduements,
When thou hast hung thy advanc'd sword i'th' air,
Not letting it decline on the declin'd† ^note;
That I have said to some my standers-by,
Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life:
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greeks have hem'd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling: This have I seen;
But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel,
I never saw 'till now. I knew thy grandsire,
And once fought with him: he was a soldier good;
But, by great Mars, the captain of us all,
Never like thee: Let an old man embrace thee;
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.

Æne.
'Tis the old Nestor.

Hec.
Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,
That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time:
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.

Nes.
I would my arms could match thee in contention,
As they contend with thee in courtesy.

Hec.
I would, they could.

Nes.
Ha!
By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow.
Well, welcome, welcome; I have seen the time‡ ^note.

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

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

Uly.
Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue:
My prophesy is but half his journey yet;
For yonder walls, that pertly front your town,
Yon' towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds,
Must kiss their own feet.

Hec.
I must not believe you:
There they stand yet; and modestly I think,
The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
A drop of Grecian blood: The end crowns all;
And that old common arbitrator, time,
Will one day end it.

Uly.
So to him we leave it.
Most gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome:
After the general, I beseech you next
To feast with me, and see me at my tent.

Ach.
I shall forestal thee, lord Ulysses; thou!
Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee;
I have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector,
And quoted joint by joint.

Hec.
Is this Achilles?

Ach.
I am Achilles.

Hec.
Stand fair, I pray thee, let me look on thee.

Ach.
Behold thy fill.

Hec.
Nay, I have done already.

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

Hec.
O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er;
But there's more in me, than thou understand'st.
Why 'dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?

Ach.
Tell me, you heav'ns, in which part of his body
Shall I destroy him; whether there, there, or there?
That I may give the local wound a name;
And make distinct the very breach, whereout
Hector's great 'spirit flew: Answer me, heavens.

Hec.
It would discredit the blest gods, proud man,
To answer such a question: Stand again:
Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly,
As to prenominate in nice conjecture
Where thou wilt hit me dead?

Ach.
I tell thee, yea.

Hec.
Wert thou an oracle to tell me so,
I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well;
For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there;
But, by the forge that stythy'd Mars his helm,
I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er.—
You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag,
His insolence draws folly from my lips;
But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,
Or may I never—

Aja.
Do not chase thee, cousin;—
And you, Achilles, let these threats alone,
'Till accident, or purpose, bring you to't:
You may have every day enough of Hector,
If you have stomach; the general state, I fear,
Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.

Hec.
I pray you, let us see you in the field;
We have had pelting wars, since you refus'd
The Grecians' cause.

Ach.
Dost thou entreat me, Hector?
To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death;
To-night, all friends* ^note.

Hec.
Thy hand upon that match.

Aga.
First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent;
There in the full convive we: afterwards,
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall
Concur together, severally intreat him.—
Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow,
That this great soldier may his welcome know. [Flourish. [Exeunt. Troilus stays Ulysses.

Tro.
My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?

Uly.
At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus:
There Diomed doth feast with him to-night;
Who neither looks upon the heaven, nor earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the fair Cressid.

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

Uly.
You shall command me, sir.
As gentle tell me, of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy? had she no lover there,
That wails her absence?

Tro.
O, sir, to such as boasting shew their scars,
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord?
She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth:
But still, sweet love is food for fortune's tooth. [Exeunt.

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