And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woe,
And he is ftubborn, chaft, against all fute.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's Love,
What Creffid is, what Pandar, and what we:
Her Bed is India, there fhe lyes, a Pearl,
Between our 'Ilium, and where the refides
Let it be call'd the mild and wandring Flood,
Our felf the Merchant, and this failing Pandar
Our doubtful Hope, our Convoy, and our Bark.
Enter Eneas.

Alarum.

Ane. How now Prince Troilus?

Wherefore not i'th' Field?

Troi. Because not there; this Woman's anfwer forts," For womanish it is to be from thence :

What News, Æneas, from the Field to day?

Ane. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Trai. By whom, Æneas?

Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a fcar to Scorn.

Paris is gor'd with Menelaus Horn.

[Alarum Ane. Hark, what good Sport is out of Town to day? Trei. Better at home, if Would I might, were Mayare you bound thither?

But to the Sport abroad

Ene. In all swift hafte.

Troi. Come, go we then together.

Enter Creffida and a Servant.

Cre. Who were thofe went by?

Ser. Queen Hecuba and Helen.
Cre. And whither go they?

Ser. Up to the Eastern Tower,

Whofe height commands as fubject all the Vale,
To fee the Battel; Hector, whose Patience
Is as a Virtue fix'd, to day was mov'd:
He ch'd Andromache, and ftruck his Armorer,
And like as there were Husbandry in War,
Before the Sun rofe, he was harneft light,
And to the Field goes he; where ev'ry Flower
Did as a Prophet weep what it forefaw,
In Hector's W:ath.

Cre. What was his cause of Anger ?

[Exeunt.

Ser.

Ser. The noife goes this;

There is among the Greeks,

A Lord of Trojan Blood, Nephew to Hector,
They call him Ajax.

Cre. Good; and what of him?

Ser. They fay he is a very Man per fe, and ftands alone. Cre. So do all Men, unless they are drunk, fick, or have no Legs.

Ser. This Man, Lady, hath robb'd many Beafts of their particular Additions, he is as valiant as the Lyon, churlish as the Bear, flow as the Elephant; a Man into whom Nature hath fo crouded Humours, that his Valour is crusht into Folly, his Folly fauced with Difcretion: There is no Man hath a Virtue, that he hath not a Glimpfe of, nor any Man an Attaint, but he carries fome Stain of it. He is melancholy without Caufe, and merry against the Hair; he hath the Joints of every thing, but every thing fo out of Joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many Hands and no ufe; or purblinded Argus, all Eyes and no Sight.

Cre. But how fhould this Man (that makes me fmile) make Hector angry?

Ser. They fay, he Yefterday cop'd Hector in the Battel and ftruck him down, the Disdain and Shame whereof hath ever fince kept Hector fafting and waking.

Enter Pandarus.
Cre. Who comes here?

Ser. Madam, your Uncle Pandarus.
Cre. Hector's a gallant Man.

Ser. As may be in the World, Lady.
Pan. What's that? what's that?

Cre. Good morrow, Uncle Pandarus.

Pan. Good morrow, Coufin Creffid: what do you talk of ? good morrow, Alexander; how do you, Coufin? when were you at Illium?

Gre. This Morning, Uncle.

Pan. What were you talking of, when I came? Was Hector arm'd and gone, e're ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up? was he?

Cre. Hellor was gone, but Helen was not up.

Pan. E'n fo; Hector was ftirring early

Cre. That were we talking of, and of his Anger.

Pan.

Pan. Was he angry?

Cre. So he fays here.

Pan. True, he was fo; I know the Caufe too, he'll lay about him to Day I can tell them that, and there's Troilus will not come far behind him, let them take heed of TroiLus; I can tell them that too.

Cre. What is he angry too?

Pan. Who, Troilus?

Troilus is the better Man of the two.

Cre. Oh Jupiter; there's no comparifon.

Pan. What not between Troilus and Hector? do you know a Man if you fee him?

Cre. Ay, if I ever faw him before, and knew him.
Fan. Well, I fay Troilus is Troilus.

Cre. Then you fay, as I fay,

For I am fure he is not Hector.

Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in fome degrees.
Cre. 'Tis juft to each of them, he is himself.

Pan. Himfelf? alas poor Troilus? I would he were.
Cre. So he is.

Pan. Condition I had gone bare-foot to India.
Cre. He is not Hector.

Pan. Himfelf no? he's not himself, would a were himfelf; well, the Gods are above, time muft friend or end; well, Troilus, well, I would my Heart were in her Body no, Hector is not a better Man than Troilus.

Cre. Excufe me.

Pan. He is Elder.

Cre. Pardon me, pardon me. Pan. Th'other's not come to't, Tale when th'other's come to't:

Wit this Year.

you shall tell me another Hector fhall not have his

Cre. He fhall not need it, if he have his own.

Pan. Nor his Qualities.

Cre. No matter.

Pan. Nor his Beauty.

Cre. 'Twould not become him, his own's better.

Pan. You have no Judgment, Neice; Helen her felf (wore th'other Day, that Troilus for a brown Favour, (for fo'cis I must confefs) not brown neither

Cre. No, but brown.

P

Pan. Faith to fay Truth, brown and not brown.
Gre. To fay the Truth, true and not true.
Pan. She prais'd his Complexion above Paris.
Cre. Why Paris hath Colour enough.

Pan. Si he has.

Cre. Then Troilus fhould have too much; if the prais'd him above, his Complexion is higher than his, he having Colour enough, and the other higher, istoo flaming a Prafe for a good Complexion. I had as lieve Helen's golden Tongue had commanded Troilus for a copper Nofe.

Pan. I fwear to you,

I think Helen loves him better than Paris.

Cre. Then he's a merry Greek indeed.

Pan. Nay, I am fure the doe. She came to him thother. Day into the compast Window, and you know he has not past three or four Hairs on his Chin.

Cre. Indeed a Tapfters Arithmetic may foon bring his particulars therein to a Total.

Pan. Why he is very Young, and yet will he within thre Pound lift as much as his Brother Hector.

Cre. Is he fo young a Man, and fold a Lifter?

Pan. But to prove to you that Helen loves him, the came and puts me her white Hand to his cloven Chin. Cre. Juno have Mercy, how came it Cloven?

Pan. Why, you know 'tis dimpled.

I think his fmiling becomes him better, than any Man in all Phrigia.

Cre. Oh, he fmiles valiantly.

Pan. Does he not?

Cre. Oh yes, and 'twere a Cloud in Autumn,

Pan. Why go to then but to prove to you that

Helen loves Troilus.

Cre. Troilus will ftand to the

Proof, if you'll prove it fo.

Pan. Troilus? why he fleems her no more, than I e ftcem an addle Egg.

Cre. If you love an addle Ege, as well as you love an idle. Head, you would eat Chickens i'ch' shell.

Pan. I cannot chufe but Laugh to think how the tickled his Chin; indeed the has a Marvel's white Hand, I muft needs confefs.

Cre.

Cre. Without the Rack.

Pan. And he takes upon her to fpy a white Hair on his Chin.

Cre. Alas, poor Chin! many a Wart is richer.

Pan. But there was such laughing, Queen Hecuba laught that her Eye run o'er.

Cre. With Milftones.

Pan. And Caffandra laught.

Cre. But there was more temperate Fire under the pot of her Eyes; Did her Eyes run o'er too?

Pan. And Hector laught.

Cre. At what was all this laughing?

Pan. Marry at the white Hair, that Helen spied on Troilus's Chin.

Cre. And 'had been a green Hair, I should have laught

too.

Pad. They laught not fo much at the Hair as at his pretty Answer.

Cre. What was his Anfwer?

Pan. Quoth fhe, here's but two and fifty Hairs on your Chin, and one of them is white.

Cre. This is her Queftion.

Pan. That's true, make no queftion of that: Two and fifty Hairs, quoth he, and one white, that white Hair is my Father, and all the reft are his Sons. Jupiter, quoth fhe, which of thefe Hairs is Paris, my Husband? The forked one, quoth he, pluck't out and give it him: But there was fuch laughing, and Helen fo blush'd, and Paris so chaft, and all the reft fo laught, that it past.

Cre. So let it now,

For it has been a great while going by.

Pan. Well, Coufin,

I told you a thing Yesterday; think on't.
Cre. So I do,

Pan. I'll be fworn 'tis true; he will weep you an 'twere a Man born in April.

[Sound a Retreat. Cre. And I'll fpring up in his Tears, as 'twere a Nettle agaich May.

Pan. lark, they are coming from the Field, fhall we ftand up here and fee them, as they pafs towards Ilium? good Neice do, fweet Neice Creffida.

Cre.