Pan.
Be moderate, be moderate.

Cres.
Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong
As that which ^note causeth it: how can I moderate ^note it?

If I could temporise with my affection ^note,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying dross ^note;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss. Enter Troilus. ^note

Pan.

Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks! ^note

Cres.

O Troilus! Troilus!

Pan.

What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too. ‘O heart ^note,’ as the goodly ^note saying is,

  ‘O heart, heavy heart,
Why sigh'st ^note thou without breaking? ^note’

where he answers again,

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!

Tro.
Cressid ^note, I love thee in so strain'd ^note 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 ^note, take thee from me.

Cres.
Have the gods envy?

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

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

Tro.
A hateful truth.

Cres.
What, and from Troilus too?

Tro.
From Troy and Troilus.

Cres.
Is it ^note possible?

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

Æneas. [Within ^note]
My lord, ^note is the lady ready?

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

Pan.

Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart ^note will be blown up by the root ^note.

Cres.
I must then to the Grecians? ^note

Tro.
No remedy. ^note

Cres.
A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! ^note
When shall we see again?

Tro.
Hear ^note me, my ^note love: be thou but true of heart. ^note

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

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

Cres.
O, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers
As infinite as imminent: but I'll be true.

Tro.
And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear ^note this sleeve. ^note

Cres.
And you this glove. When shall I see you? ^{note note}

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

Cres.
O heavens! ‘Be true’ again!

Tro.
Hear why I speak it, love:
The Grecian youths are full of quality ^note;
They're loving, well composed with gifts of nature,
And flowing o'er with arts and exercise: ^note
How novelties may move and parts with person ^{note note},
Alas, a kind of godly ^note jealousy—
Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin—

Makes me afeard ^note.

Cres.
O heavens! you love me not.

Tro.
Die I a villain then!
In this I do not call your faith in question,
So mainly ^note 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.

Cres.
Do you think I will? ^{note note}

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

Cres.
My lord, will you be true?

Tro.
Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:
Whiles others ^note fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity;
Whilst ^note some with cunning gild their copper crowns,
With truth and plainness I do wear ^note mine bare.
Fear not my truth: the moral ^note of my wit
Is ‘plain and true;’ ^note there's all the reach of it.

Enter ^note Æneas, Paris, Antenor, Deiphobus, and Diomedes. ^note
Welcome, Sir Diomed! here is the lady
Which ^note 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 e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Ilion ^note.

Dio.
Fair ^note Lady Cressid,
So please you, save the thanks this prince expects:
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,
Pleads ^note your fair usage ^note; and to Diomed
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.

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

Dio.
O, be not moved, Prince Troilus:
Let me be privileged by my place and message
To be a speaker free; when I am hence,
I'll answer to my lust ^note: and know you, lord ^note,
I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth

She shall be prized; but that you say ‘Be't, so,’
I'll ^note speak it in my spirit and honour ‘No!’

Tro.
Come, ^note to the port. I'll tell ^note thee, Diomed,
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 Troilus, Cressida, and Diomedes. ^note [A trumpet sounds. ^note

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 ^note. ^note

Par.
'Tis Troilus' fault: come, come, to field with him.

Dei. ^note
Let us make ready straight.

Æne.
Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity,
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels:
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
On his fair worth and single chivalry. ^note [Exeunt. ^{note note}

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