We must give up to Diomedes Hand
The Lady Creffida.
Trei Is it concluded fo?
Ane. By Priam, and the general State of Troy.
They are at hand, and ready to effe& it.
Trai. How many Atcheivements mock me!
I will go meet them; and my Lord Æneas,
We met by chance, you did not find me here.
Ane. Good, good, my Lord; the secrets of Nature
Have not more Gift in taciturnity.
Enter Pandarus and Creffida.
Pan. Is't poffible? no fooner got, but loft: The Devil take Anthenor; the young Prince will go mad: a Plague upon Anthenor; I would they had broke's Neck.
Cre. How now? what's the matter? who was here?
Pan. Ah, ah!-
Cre. Why figh you fo profoundly? where's my Lord? gone? Tell me, fweet 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. Prethee get thee in; would thou had'ft ne'er been born: I knew thou would'ft be his Death. O poor Gentleman! A Plague upon Anthenor.
Cre. Good Uncle, I beseech you, on my Knees, I befeech you what's the matter?
Pan. Thou must be gone, Wench, thou must be gone: thou art chang'd for Anthenor; thou must go to thy Father, and be gone from Troilus: 'Twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.
Cre. O you immortal Gods! I will not go.
Cre. I will not, Uncle: I have forgot my Father.
I know no touch of Confanguinity:
No Kin, no Love, no Blood, no Soul fo near me,
As the fweet Troilus: O you Gods divine!
Make Creffid's name the very Crown of Falfhood,
If ever the leave Troilus: Time and Death,
Do to this Body what extremity you can;
But the ftrong Bafe and building of my Love
Is, as the very centre of the Earth,
Drawing all things to it. I will go in and Weep.
Cre. Tear my bright Hair, and scratch my praised Cheeks,
Crack my clear Voice with Sobs, and break my Heart
With founding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. [Exit.
Enter Paris, Troilus, Aneas, Deiphobus, Anthenor,
and Diomedes.
Par. It is great Morning, and the Hour prefixt
Of her deliv'ry to this valiant Greek
Comes faft upon: Good my Brother Troilus,
Tell you the Lady what she is to do,
And hafte her to the purpose.
Trei. Walk into her Houfe:
I'll bring her to the Grecian prefently;
And to his Hand when I deliver her,
Think it an Altar, and thy Brother Troilus
A Prieft, there offering to it his Heart.
Par. I know what 'tis to Love,
And would, as I fhall pity, I could help.
Please you walk in, my Lords.
Enter Pandarus and Creffid.
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
Cre. Why tell you me of moderation?
The Grief is fine, full perfect that I tafte,
And no lefs in a fenfe as ftrong, 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 cross,
No more my Grief in fuch a precious lofs.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes,a fweet Duck.-
Cre. O Troilus, Troilus!
Pan. What a pair of Spectacles is here! let me embrace too: Oh Heart, as the goodly faying is; O Heart, heavy Heart, why fitteft thou without breaking? Look where he anfwers again;-Because thou can'ft not eafe thy fmart by
Friendship, nor by speaking; there was never a truer time;
let us calt away nothing, for we may live to have need of
fuch a Verfe; we fee it, we fee it: how now, Lambs?
Troi. Creffid, I love thee in fo ftrange a purity;
That the bleft Gods, as angry with my Fancy,
More bright in Zeal, than the Devotion which
Cold Lips b'ow to their Deities, take thee from me.
Cre. Have the Gods Envy?
Pan. Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, 'tis too plain a Cafe.
Cre. And is it true, that I muft go from Troy?
Troi. A hateful Truth.
Cre. What, and from Troilus too?
Troi. From Troy, and Troilus.
Cref. Is it poffible?
Troi. And fuddenly while injury of Chance
Puts back leave-taking, jufles roughly by
All time of paufe, rudely beguiles our Lips
Of all rejoyndure; forcibly prevents
Our lock'd Embrafures; ftrangles our dear Vows,
Even in the birth of our own labouring Breath.
We two, that with fo many thousand fighs
Did buy each other, muft poorly fell our felves,
With the rude brevity and difcharge of one;
Injurious time, now, with a Robber's hafte,
Crams his rich Thievery up, he knows not how.
As many farewels as be Stars in Heaven,
With diflin& Breath, and confign'd Kiffes to them,
He fumbles up all in one loofe adieu;
And scants us with a fingle famish'd Kiss,
Diftafted with the Salt of broken Tears.
Aneas within. My Lord, is the Lady ready?
Troi. Hark, you are call'd. Some fay, the Genius fo
Cries, Come, to him that inftantly muft die.
Bid them have Patience; fhe fhall come anon.
Pan. Where are my Tears? Rain, to lay this Wind, or my Heart will be blown up by the Root.
Cre. I must then to the Grecians?
Troi. No remedy.
Cre. A woful Creffid, 'mongst the merry Greeks
Troi. When hall we fee again?
Hear me, my Love; be thou but true of Heart-
Cre. I true? how now? what wicked deem is this?
Troi. Nay, we must ufe Expoftulation kindly,
For it is parting from us:
I fpeak 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, fay I, to fashion in
My fequent Proteftation: Be thou true,
And I will fee thee.
Cre. O you fhall be expos'd, my Lord, to dangers
As infinite, as imminent: But I'll be true,
Troi. And I'll grow Friend with danger:
Wear this Sleeve.
Cre. And you this Glove.
When fhall I fee you?
Troi. I will corrupt the Grecian Centinels To give thee nightly Vifitation:
But yet be true.
Cre. O Heav'ns! be true again.
Troi.. Hear while I fpeak it, Love:
The Grecian Youths are full of fubtle Qualities,
They're loving, well compos'd, with gift of Nature,
Flowing and fwelling o'er with Arts and Exercife;
How Novelties may move, and Parts with Perfon
Alas, a kind of godly Jealoufie,
Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous Sin,
Makes me afraid.
Cre. O Heav'ns, you love me not!
Troi. 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 fweeten Talk;
Nor play at fubtle Games; fair Virtues all-
To which the Grecians are moft prompt and pregnant:
But I can tell, that in each Grace of thefe,
There lurks a ftill and dumb-difcourfive Devil,
That tempts moft cunningly: But be not tempted.
Cre. Do not think, I will.
Troi. No, but fomething may be done that we will not: And sometimes we are Devils to our felves,
When we will attempt the frailty of our Powers,
Prefuming on their changeful potency.
Aneas within. Nay, good my Lord.
Troi. Come kifs, and let us part.
Paris within. Brother Troilus.
Troi. Good Brother, come you hither,
And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you.
Cre. My Lord, will you be true?
Troi. Who I? Alas, it is my Voice, my Fault:
While others fish with Craft for great Opinion,
I, with great truth, catch meer Simplicity:
While fome with cunning gild their Copper Crowns,
With truth and plainnefs I do wear mine bare:
Enter, Eneas, Paris, and Diomedes:
Fear not my Truth; the Moral of my Wit
Is plain and true, there's all the reach of it.
Welcome, Sir Diomede, here is the Lady,
Which for Anthenor we deliver you.
At the Port (Lord) I'll give her to thy Hand,.
And by the way poffefs thee what he is.
Entreat her fair, and by my Soul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou ftand at mercy of my Sword,
Name Creffid, and thy Life fhall be as fafe
As Priam is in Ilion.
Diom. Fair Lady Creffid,
So please you, fave the Thanks this Prince expects:
The luftre in your Eyes, Heav'n in your Cheek,
Pleads your fair ufage, and to Diomede
You shall be Mistress, and command him wholly.
Troi. Grecian, thou doft not use me courteously,
To shame the Seal of my Petition towards thee
By praifing her. I tell thee, Lord of Greece,
She is as far high-foaring o'er thy Praifes,
As thou unworthy to be call'd her Servant:
I charge thee ufe her well, even for my Charge:
For by the dreadful Pluto, if thou doft not,
(Tho' the great bulk Achilles be thy Guard)
I'll cut thy Throat.
Diom. Oh be not mov'd, Prince Troilus;
Let me be privileg'd by my Place and Meffage,
To be a Speaker free: When I am hence,
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