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

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

Tro.
Trouble him not;
To bed, to bed; Sleep kill those pretty eyes,14Q1227
And give as soft attachment to thy senses,
As infants' empty of all thought!

Cre.
Good morrow then.

Tro.
I pr'ythee now, to bed.

Cre.
Are you aweary of me?

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

Cre.
Night hath been too brief.

Tro.
Beshrew the witch! with venomous 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.

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! all ^note the doors open here!

Tro.
It is your uncle.

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

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

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

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 wench! a poor capocchia ^note! hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bug-bear take him!

Cre.
Did not I tell you?—'would he were knock'd o'the head!— [Knocking heard.

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.

Tro.
Ha, ha!

Cre.
Come, you're deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.— [Knocking again.
How earnestly they knock!—pray you, come in;
I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt Tro. and Cre.

Pan. [going to the Door.]

Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? [opening it.] How now? what's the matter?

Æne.

Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

Pan.

Who's there? my lord Æneas? by my troth, I knew ^note 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 ^note 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 ^note:
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.

Tro.
How now? what's the matter?

Æne.
My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My matter is so rash: 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 the ^note general state of Troy:
They are at hand, and ready to effect ^note it.

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

Æne.
Good, good my lord, the secret'st ^note things of nature ^note
Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt Tro. and Æne.

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! ^note

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

Cre.

Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, 'Beseech you, ^note 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 ^note, 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 ^note,
Do to this body what extreams you ^note can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it.—I'll ^note go in, and weep;

Pan.
Do, do.

Cre.
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 not go from Troy. [Exeunt.

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