Thy master now lies thinking in his bed

Of thee, and me; and sighs, and takes my glove,
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it,

As I kiss thee.-Nay, do not snatch it from me;
He that takes that doth take my heart withal.
Dio. I had your heart before; this follows it.
Tro. I did swear patience.

Cres. You shall not have it, Diomed; 'faith you shall not:

I'll give you something else.

Dio. I will have this. Whose was it?
Cres.

Dio. Come, tell me whose it was.

[They strive.1

'Tis no matter.

Cres. 'T was one's that lov'd me better than you

will.

But, now you have it, take it.

Dio.
Whose was it?
Cres. By all Diana's waiting-women yond',
And by herself, I will not tell you whose.

Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm,
And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.
Tro. Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on thy horn,
It should be challeng'd.

Cres. Well, well, 't is done, 't is past;—and yet it is

not:

I will not keep my word.

Dio.

Why then, farewell. Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.

Cres. You shall not go.-One cannot speak a word, But it straight starts you.

Dio.

I do not like this fooling.

Ther. Nor I, by Pluto: but that that likes not you,2

pleases me best.

Dio. What! shall I come? the hour?

Cres.

Do come:-I shall be plagu'd.

Dio.

Ay, come:-O Jove !

Farewell till then.
[Exit DIO.

Cres. Good night: I pr'ythee, come.-
Troilus, farewell! one eye yet looks on thee,
But with my heart the other eye doth see.
Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind.
What error leads must err: O! then conclude,
1 Not in f. e. 2 me in folio.

Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude.

[Exit CRESSIDA. Ther. A proof of strength, she could not publish more, Unless she said, "my mind is now turn'd whore." Ulyss. All's done, my lord.

Tro.
Ulyss.

It is.

Why stay we then?

Tro. To make a recordation to my soul
Of every syllable that here was spoke.
But if I tell how these two did co-act,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
An esperance so obstinately strong,
That doth invert th' attest of eyes and ears;
As if those organs had deceptious functions,
Created only to calumniate.

Was Cressid here ?

Ulyss.

I cannot conjure, Trojan.

Tro. She was not, sure.

Most sure, she was.

Ulyss.
Tro. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.
Ulyss. Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was here but now.
Tro. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood!

Think we had mothers: do not give advantage
To stubborn critics-apt, without a theme,

For depravation,-to square the general sex
By Cressid's rule: rather think this not Cressid.
Ulyss. What hath she done, prince, that can soil
our mothers ?

Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
Ther. Will he swagger himself out on 's own eyes?
Tro. This she? no; this is Diomed's Cressida.

If beauty have a soul, this is not she:

If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimony,
If sanctimony be the gods' delight,

If there be rule in unity itself,

This is not she. O madness of discourse,
That cause sets up with and against itself!1
Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt
Without perdition, and loss assume all reason
Without revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid.
Within my soul there doth conduce a fight
Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate
1 thyself: in folio.

Divides more wider than the sky and earth;
And yet the spacious breadth of this division
Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle
As Arachne's broken woof, to enter.

Instance? O instance! strong as Pluto's gates;
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven:
Instance? O instance! strong as heaven itself;
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and loos'd;
And with another knot, five-finger-tied,

The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy reliques
Of her o'er-eaten faith, are given' to Diomed.
Ulyss. May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
With that which here his passion doth express?

Tro. Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well In characters as red as Mars his heart

Inflam'd with Venus: never did young man fancy
With so eternal and so fix'd a soul.

Hark, Greek:-as much as I do Cressid love,
So much by weight hate I her Diomed.

That sleeve is mine, that he 'll bear on his helm:
Were it a casque composed by Vulcan's skill,
My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful spout,
Which shipmen do the hurricano call,

Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomed.

Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy.

Tro. O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false ! Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,

And they'll seem glorious.

Ulyss.

O! contain yourself;

Your passion draws ears hither.

Enter ENEAS.

Ene. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord.

Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy:

Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home.

Tro. Have with you, prince.-My courteous lord, adieu.

Farewell, revolted fair!—and, Diomed,

Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head!

Ulyss. I'll bring you to the gates.

1 bound in folio.

Tro. Accept distracted thanks.

[Exeunt TROILUS, ENEAS, and ULYSSES. Ther. [Coming forward.] Would, I could meet that rogue Diomed. I would croak like a raven; I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore: the parrot will not do more for an almond, than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil take them! [Exit.

SCENE III.-Troy. Before PRIAM's Palace.

Enter HECTOR and ANDROMACHE.

And. When was my lord so much ungently temper'd, To stop his ears against admonishment?

Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.

Hect. You train me to offend you; get you in1:

By all the everlasting gods, I'll go.

And. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to-day. Hect. No more, I say.

Cas.

Enter CASSANDRA.

Where is my brother Hector? And. Here, sister; arm'd, and bloody in intent. Consort with me in loud and dear petition:

Pursue we him on knees; for I have dream'd
Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night

Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.
Cas. O! 't is true.

Hect.

Ho! bid my trumpet sound. Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother. Hect. Begone, I say: the gods have heard me swear. Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish3 vows: They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd

Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.

And. O! be persuaded: do not count it holy

To hurt by being just: it is as lawful

For us to give much count to violent thefts,*

And rob in the behalf of charity.

Cas. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; But vows to every purpose must not hold.

Unarm, sweet Hector.

1

gone in folio. 2 Not in folio.

3 Foolish.

4 The folio: "For

The line has been

we would count give much to as violent thefts."

variously arranged by modern editors. "For we would give much,

to so count violent thefts," is one of the best.

Hect.

Hold you still, I say;

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate :
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man
Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.-
Enter TROILUS.

How now, young man! mean'st thou to fight to-day? And. Cassandra, call my father to persuade.

[Exit CASSANDRA. Hect. No, 'faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth;

I am to-day i' the vein of chivalry.

Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.

Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
I'll stand to-day for thee, and me, and Troy.

Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,
Which better fits a lion than a man.

Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me for it. Tro. When many times the captive Grecians fall, Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,

You bid them rise, and live.

Hect. O! 't is fair play.
Tro.

Fool's play, by heaven, Hector. Hect. How now! how now! Tro. For the love of all the gods, Let's leave the hermit pity with our mothers, And when we have our armours buckled on, The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords; Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth. Hect. Fie, savage, fie!

Tro.

Hector, then 't is wars. Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day. Tro. Who should withhold me?

Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,

Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears;

Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn,
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way,

But by my ruin.

Re-enter CASSANDRA with PRIAM.

Cas. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast:
He is thy crutch; now, if thou lose thy stay,
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,