Troi. Because not there; this woman's answer For womanish it is to be from thence: [forts; What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?

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

ne. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a fear to fearn; Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn.

[Alarm Ene. Hark, what good sport is out of town today?

Troi. Better at home, if would I might, were may-----

But to the fport abroad----are you bound thither? Ene. In all fwift hafte.

*

Troi. Come, go we then together.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to a public Street, near the Walls

of Troy.

Enter CRESSIDA, and ALEXANDER, her Servant.

Gre. Who were thofe went by?
Serv. Queen Hecuba and Helen.
Gre. And whither go they?

Serv. Up to the eastern tower,

Whofe height commands as fubject all the vale,
To fee the fight. Hector, whofe patience
Is, as the virtue, fixed, to-day was moved: (5)

(5)

-whofe patience

Is as a virtue fixed,] What's the meaning of Hector's patience being fixed as a virtue? Is not patience a virtue? What room then for the frailitude? The Poet certainly wrote, as I have conjecturally reformed the text; and this is giving a fine character of it, to fay, his patience is as ftedfaft as the virtue of Patience itself, or the goddefs fo called; for the poets have always perfonalized the quality. So we find Troilus a little before faying:

Patience herself, what goddefs c'er the be,
Doth leffer blench at fufferance than I do.

Mr War.

He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;
And like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the fun rofe, he was harnefs-dight, (6)
And to the field goes he; where every flower
Did as a prophet weep what it forefaw,
In Hector's wrath.

Cre. What was his caufe of anger?

Serv. The noife goes thus; there is among the
Greeks

A Lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector,
They call him Ajax.

Cre. Good; and what of him?

Serv. 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.

Serv. This man, Lady, hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, flow as the elephant; a man into whom nature hath fo crouded humours, that his valour is cruth'd 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,

(6) Before he fan ar fe, he was harneft light,] Why, harnest light? Does the Poet mean that Hector had put on lig armour? or that he was sprightly in his arms even before fun-rife? Or is a conundrum aimed at, in fun-rofe, and barneft light? A very flight alteration makes all thefe conftructions unneceffary, and gives us the Poet's meaning in the propereft terms imaginable :

Before the fun rofe, he was harness-dight.

i. e compleatly dreffed, accoutred, in arms. It is frequent with our Poet, from his mafters Chaucer and Spencer, to fay dight for decked; pight for pitched, &c. and from them too he ufes harnefs for armour.

So again, in Macheth;

-blow, wind! come, wrack!

At least we'll die with barns on our back,

but he carries fome ftain 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 purblind Argus, all eyes and no fight. Cre. But how fhould this man that makes me fmile make Hector angry?,

Serv. They fay, he yesterday coped Hector in the battle, and ftruck him down, the difdain and shame whereof hath ever fince kept Hector fasting and waking..

Enter PANDARUS..

Cre. Who comes here?

Serv. Madam, your uncle Pandarus..
Gre. Hector's a gallant man.

Serv. 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? (7) Good-morrow, Alexander;---how do you, coufin? when were you at Ilium?

(1) Good morrow, cousin Creffid, what do you talk of ? Good morrow, Alexander;-How do you, coufin] Good morrow, Alexander is added in all the editious, fays Mr Pope, very abfurdly, Paris not being on the ftage-Wonderful acutenefs! But, with fubmiffion, this gentleman's note is much more abfurd; for it falls out very unluckily for his remark, that though Paris is, for the generality, in Homer called. Alexander; yet, in this play, by any one of the characters introduced. he is called nothing but Paris. The truth of the fact is this: Pandarus is of a bufy, impertinent, infinuating character; and it is natural for him, fo foon as he has given his coufin, the good morrow, to pay his civilities too to her attendant. This is purely iv, as the grammarians call it, and gives us an admirable touch of Pandarus's character. And why might not Alexander be the name of Creffidi's man? Maris had no patent, I fuppofe, for engroffing it to himfelf.

Cre. This morning, uncle.

Pan. What were you talking of when I came? was Hector armed and gone ere you came to Ilium? Helen was not up? was fhe?

Cre. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.
Pan. E'en fo; Hector was tirring early.

Cre. That we were talking of, and of his anreg.
Pan. Was he angry?

Cre. So he fays here.

Pan. True, he was fo; I know the cause 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.

Gre. Oh, Jupiter! there's no comparison.

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.

Pan: Well, I fay, Troilus is Troilus.

Gre. 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,

But the late editor, perhaps, because we have had Alexander the Great, pope Alexander, and Alexander Pope, would not have to eminent a name proflituted to a common, valet.

Cre. He is not Hector.

Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself; 'would he were himself! well, the gods are above; time must friend, or end: well, Troilus, well, I would my heart were in her body!--no, Hèctor 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; you fhall tell me another tale, when th' other comes to't: Hector fhall not have his wit this year.

Cre. He thall not need it, if he have his own. Pan. Nor his qualities.

Cre. No matter.

Pan. Nor his beauty.

Crc. 'Twould not become him, his own's better. Pan. You have no judgment, niece; Helen herfelf swore th' other day, that Troilus for a brown favour, (for fo 'tis, I must confefs) not brown nei ther-----

Cre. No, but brown.

Pan. Faith, to fay truth, brown and not brown.
Cre. To fay the truth, true and not true.
Pan. She praised his complexion above Paris.
Gre. Why, Paris hath colour enough.

Pan. So he has.

Cre. Then Troilus fhould have too much; if she praifed him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praife for a good complexion. I had as lieve Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nofe.

Pan. I fwear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris.

Cre. Then she's a merry Greek, indeed.