Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it

will go one way or other; howfoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.

Patr. Your answer, fir.

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart.

Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What mufick will be in him when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not: But, I am fure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his finews to make catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him ftraight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horfe; for that's the more capable creature.

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself fee not the bottom of it.

[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.

Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an afs at it! I had rather be a 'tick in a fheep, than such a valiant ignorance.

[Exit.

ACT

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Troy. A Street.

Enter, at one fide, ÆNEAS, and Servant, with a torch; at the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES, and Others, with torches.

Par. See, ho! who's that there?

Dei.

'Tis the lord Æneas.

Ene. Is the prince there in person ?—

Had I fo good occafion to lie long,

As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio. That's my mind too.-Good morrow, lord Æneas.
Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand:
Witness the process of your speech, wherein
You told-how Diomed, a whole week by days,
Did haunt you in the field.

Ene.

Health to you, valiant fir,

During all question of the gentle truce:

But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance,
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm; and, fo long, health:
But when contention and occafion meet,

By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

Æne. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
With his face backward.—In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchifes' life,
Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear,

No man alive can love, in fuch a fort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dio. We fympathize :-Jove, let Æneas live,
If to my fword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courses of the fun!
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die,
With every joint a wound; and that to-morrow!
Ene. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse. Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, The nobleft hateful love, that e'er I heard of.— What bufinefs, lord, fo early?

Ene. I was fent for to the king; but why, I know not. Par. His purpose meets you; 'Twas to bring this

Greek

To Calchas' houfe; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Creffid:
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before us: I constantly do think,
(Or, rather, call my thought a certain knowledge,)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night;
Roufe him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality wherefore: I fear,
We shall be much unwelcome.

Ene.

That I affure you;

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Creffid borne from Troy.

Par.

The bitter difpofition of the time

There is no help;

[Exit.

Will have it fo. On, lord; we'll follow you.

Ene. Good morrow, all.

Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell me true, Even in the foul of found good-fellowship,

Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen beft,
Myfelf, or Menelaus ?

He merits well to have her, that doth feek her
(Not making any scruple of her foilure,)
With fuch a hell of pain, and world of charge;
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the taste of her dishonour,)
With fuch a coftly lofs of wealth and friends:
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more;
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman.
Dio. She's bitter to her country: Hear me, Paris,—
For every falfe drop in her bawdy veins

A Grecian's life hath funk: for every fcruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,

A Trojan hath been flain: since she could speak,
She hath not given fo many good words breath
As for her Greeks and Trojans fuffer'd death.
Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Difpraise the thing that you defire to buy:
But we in filence hold this virtue well,—
We'll not commend what we intend to fell.
Here lies our way.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The fame. Court before the house of Pandarus.

Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.

Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. Cref. Then, fweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down; He fhall unbolt the gates.

Tro.

Trouble him not;

To bed, to bed: Sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as foft attachment to thy fenfes,

As infants' empty of all thought!

Cref.

Tro. 'Pr'ythee now, to bed.

Cref.

Good morrow then.

Are you aweary of me?

Tro. O Creffida! but that the bufy day,

Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
I would not from thee.

Cref.

Night hath been too brief. Tro. Befhrew the witch! with venomous wights the

ftays,

As tediously as hell; but flies the grafps of love,
With wings more momentary-fwift than thought.
You will catch cold, and curse me.

Cref.

You men will never tarry.

Pr'ythee, tarry;

O foolish Creffid!—I might have still held off,

And then you would have tarry'd. Hark! there's one

up.

Pan. [Within.] What, are all the doors open here?

Tro. It is your uncle.

Enter