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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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SCENE II. Changes to Pandarus's House. Enter Troilus and Cressida.

Troi.
Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold.

Cre.
Then, sweet my Lord, I'll call my uncle down;
He shalt unbolt the gates.

Troi.
Trouble him not.
To bed, to bed. 9 note
Sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses,
As infants empty of all thought!

Cre.
Good-morrow then.

Troi.
I pr'ythee now, to bed.

Cre.
Are you a weary of me?

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

Cre.
Night hath been too brief.

Troi.
Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays,
note
As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love,
With wings more momentary-swift than thought:
You will catch cold, and curse me.

Cre.
Pr'ythee, tarry—you men will never tarry.

-- 495 --


O foolish Cressida! I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark, there's one up.

Pan. [within.]
What's all the doors open here?

Troi.
It is your uncle.
Enter Pandarus.

Cre.
A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking.
I shall have such a life—

Pan.
How now, how now? How go maiden-heads?
Hear you! Maid! Where's my cousin Cressida?

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

Pan.
To do what? to do what? Let her say, what.
What have I brought you to do?

Cre.

Come, come, beshrew your heart; you'll never be good; nor suffer others.

Pan.

Ha! ha! alas, poor wretch; 1 notea poor Capocchia, —hast not slept to-night? Would he not a naughty man let it sleep? a bugbear take him!

[One knocks.

Cre.

Did not I tell you?—'would, he were knock'd o'th' head!—Who's that at door?—Good uncle, go and see!—My Lord, come you again into my chamber. —You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.

Troi.

Ha, ha—

Cre.
Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing.

-- 496 --


How earnestly they knock—Pray you, come in, [Knock.
I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt.

Pan.

Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now? what's the matter?

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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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