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

Cre.
Then, sweet my lord, I'll call my uncle down;
He shall 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 aweary 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 joys9Q1028 no longer,
I would not from thee.

Cre.
Night hath been too brief.

Troi.
Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays,
^{1 note}
As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love,
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.9Q1029
You will catch cold, and curse me.

Cre.
Pr'ythee, tarry;—you men will never tarry.
O foolish Cressida!—I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarry'd. Hark! there's one up.

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

Troi.
It is your uncle. Enter Pandarus^{2 note}









.

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? —Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid?

Cre.
Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!
You bring me to do^{3 note}, 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 ne'er be good,
Nor suffer others.

Pan.

Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! ^{4 note}a poor capochia! —hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him!

Cre.
Did not I tell you?—'would he were knock'd o' the 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 deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.—
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?

Æne.
Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

Pan.
Who's there? my lord Æneas? By my troth,
I knew you not: What news with you so early?

Æne.
Is not prince Troilus here?

Pan.
Here! what should he do here?

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

Pan.
Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know,
I'll be sworn:—For my own part, I came in late:—
What should he do here?

Æne.
Who!—nay, then:—
Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are 'ware:
You'll be so true to him, to be false to him:
Do not you know of him, but yet fetch him hither;
Go. As Pandarus is going out, enter Troilus.

Troi.
How now? what's the matter?

Æne.
My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My ^{5 note}

The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
^{6 note}
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.

Tro.
Is it concluded so?

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

Troi.
How my atchievements mock me!—
I will go meet them: and, my lord Æneas,
We met by chance; you did not find me here.

Æne.
Good, good, my lord; ^{7 note}

Pan.

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

Cre.

How now? What is the matter? Who was here?

Pan.

Ah, ah!

Cre.
Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord? gone?
Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pan.

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

Cre.

O the gods!—what's the matter?

Pan.

Pr'ythee, get thee in; Would thou had'st ne'er been born! I knew, thou wouldst be his death:— O poor gentleman!—A plague upon Antenor!

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

Pan.

Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art chang'd for Antenor: thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus; 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.

Cre.
O you immortal gods!—I will not go.

Pan.
Thou must.

Cre.
I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity;
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus.—O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falshood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,9Q1031
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very center of the earth,
Drawing all things to it.—I'll go in, and weep,—

Pan.
Do, do.

Cre.
Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks;
Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. [Exeunt.

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