Tro.
Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn is cold.

Cres.
Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine ^note uncle down;
He shall unbolt the gates.

Tro.
Trouble him not;
To bed, to bed: sleep kill ^note those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses
An infants' ^note empty of all thought!

Cres.
Good morrow, then.

Tro.
I prithee now, to bed.

Cres.
Are you a-weary of me?

Tro.
O Cressida! but that the busy day,
Waked by the lark, hath ^note roused the ribald ^note crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys ^note no longer,
I would not from thee.

Cres.
Night hath been too brief.

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

Cres.
Prithee, tarry:
You men will never tarry ^note.
O foolish Cressid ^note! ^note I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. ^note Hark! there's ^note one up.

Pan. [Within]
What, 's all ^note the doors open here?

Tro.
It is your uncle.

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

Enter Pandarus. ^note

Pan.
How, now, how now! how go maidenheads?
Here ^note, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid? ^note

Cres.
Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!
You bring me to do— ^noteand then you flout me too ^note.

Pan.

To do what? to do what? let her say what: what have I brought you to do? ^note

Cres.

Come, come, beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good, nor suffer others ^note.

Pan.

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

Cres.
Did not I tell you? would he were knock'd i' the ^note head ^note! [One knocks. ^note
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 ^note I meant naughtily ^note.

Tro.
Ha, ha!

Cres.
Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing. [Knocking. ^note
How earnestly they knock! Pray you, come in:
I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt ^note Troilus and Cressida.

Pan. ^note

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

Æne.
Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

Pan.
Who's there? my Lord Æneas! ^note By my troth,
I knew ^note you not: what news with you so early? ^note

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 ^note more than I know, I'll be sworn: for my own part, I came in ^note late. What should he do here?

Æne.

Who! ^note nay, then: come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are ware ^note: you'll be so true to him, to be false to him: do not you know of him, but yet ^note go fetch him hither ^note; go.

Tro.
How now! what's the matter?

Æne.
My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My matter is so rash ^note: there is at hand
Paris your brother and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us; and for him ^note forthwith,

Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' ^note hand
The Lady Cressida.

Tro.
Is it so concluded ^note?

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

Tro.
How my ^note achievements 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; the secrets of nature ^note
Have not ^note more gift in taciturnity ^note. [Exeunt ^note Troilus and Æneas. ^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!

Cres.

How now! what's the matter? who was here?

Pan.

Ah, ah! ^note

Cres.

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!

Cres.

O the gods! What's the matter?

Pan.

Prithee ^note, get thee in: would thou hadst ne'er been

born! I knew thou wouldst be his death: O, poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor!

Cres.

Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you ^note, what's the matter?

Pan.

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

Cres.
O you immortal gods! I will not go.

Pan.

Thou must.

Cres.
I will not, uncle: I have ^note 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 falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force ^note, and death,
Do to this body what extremes ^note you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things ^note to it. I'll ^note go in and weep,— ^note

Pan.
Do, do.

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

^note

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