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

Enter ENEAS.

Ene. 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?

Ene. Is not Prince Troilus here?

Pan. Here! what should he do here?

Ene. Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him:

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It doth import him much to speak with me. Pan. Is he here, say you? 't is more than I know, I'll be sworn: for my own part, I came in late. here?

What should he do

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

Re-enter TROILUS.

Tro. How now! what's the matter?

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

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

Tro. How my achievements mock me!

I will go meet them: and, my Lord Æneas,

We met by chance; you did not find me here.

Ene. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature Have not more gift in taciturnity.

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[Exeunt Troilus and Eneas.

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!

Re-enter CRESSIDA.

Cres. How now! what's the matter? who was here?
Pan. Ah, ah!

Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where 's
gone!
Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

my lord?

Pan. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above! Cres. O the gods! what's the matter?

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Pan. Prithee, 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, 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: 't will be his death; 't will be his bane; he cannot bear it.

Cres. O you immortal gods! I will not

Pan. Thou must.

go.

Cres. 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 falsehood,

If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,

Do to this body what extremes you 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 go in and weep,

Pan. Do, do.

Cres. 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.

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[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The same. Street before PANDARUS' house.

Enter PARIS, TROILUS, ENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES.
Par. It is great morning, and the hour prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek

Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,

And haste her to the purpose.

Tro.

Walk into her house;

I'll bring her to the Grecian presently:
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus
A priest there offering to it his own heart.
Pan. I know what 't is to love;

And would, as I shall pity, I could help!
Please you walk in, my lords.

[Exit.

ΙΟ

[Exeunt.

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 causeth it: how can I moderate it?

If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying dross;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes.

Ah, sweet ducks!

Enter TROILUS.

Cres. O Troilus! Troilus!

Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! too. "O heart," as the goodly saying is,

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[Embracing him. Let me embrace

Why sigh'st thou without breaking?"

where he answers again,

"Because thou canst not ease thy smart
By friendship nor by speaking.'

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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, I love thee in so strain'd a purity,
That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy,
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me.
Cres. Have the gods envy?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 't is 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 possible?

Tro. And suddenly where injury of chance;
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents

Our lock'd embraceures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath:
We too, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now with a robber's haste
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,

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With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu,

And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,

Distasted with the salt of broken tears.

Ene. [Within.] My lord, is the lady ready?

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

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

Cres. I must then to the Grecians?

No remedy.

Tro.
Cres. A woful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks!
When shall we see again?

Tro. Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart,
Cres. I true! how now! what wicked deem is this?
Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us :

I speak not "be thou true," as fearing thee,
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,
That there's 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.

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

Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger.

Cres. And you this glove.

[Exit.

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Wear this sleeve.

When shall I see you?

Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,

To give thee nightly visitation.

But yet be true.

Cres.

O heavens!" be true" again!

Tro. Hear why I speak it, love:

The Grecian youths are full of quality;

They 're loving, well compos'd with gifts of nature,
Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise:

How novelty may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy-

Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin
Makes me afeard.

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 as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,

64 maculation stain, impureness.

86 the high lavolt. The lavolt was a very lively dance.

80

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?

90

Tro. No.

But something may be done that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.
Ene. [Within.] Nay, good my lord,-

Tro.

Come, kiss; and let us part.

Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus!

Tro.
And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you.
Cres. My lord, will you be true?

Good brother, come you

fault:

Tro. Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,

I with great truth catch mere simplicity;

Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns,
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit

Is "plain and true;" there 's all the reach of it.
Enter ÆNEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, and DIOMEDES.

Welcome, Sir Diomed! here is the lady

Which 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.

So please you, save the thanks this prince expects :
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,

Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,

To shame the zeal of my petition to thee
In praising 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,

$ changeful potency: loosely written for potency against change.

hither;

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ΠΙΟ

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