If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,—
When time is old and hath forgot itself;
When water-drops have worn the stones of Troy,
And blind oblivion swallowed cities up,
And mighty states charácterless are grated
To dusty nothing; yet let memory,

From false to false, among false maids in love, Upbraid my falsehood! when they have saidas false

As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son;
Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
"As false as Cressid."

Pan. Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it; I'll be the witness.-Here I hold your hand; here, my cousin's. If ever you prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end after my name; call them all Pandars; let all constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers-between Pandars! say, amen.

SCENE III.-The Grecian Camp.

Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, AJAX, NESTOR, MENELAUS, and CALCHAS.

Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have done you,

The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind,
That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove
I have abandoned Troy; left my possessions,
Incurred a traitor's name; exposed myself,
From certain and possessed conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes; sequestering from me all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
Made tame and most familiar to my nature:
And here, to do you service, am become
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted:
I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
To give me now a little benefit,
Out of those many registered in promise,
Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.

Agam. What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? make demand.

Cal. You have a Trojan prisoner, called Antenor, Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear. Oft have you (often have you thanks therefore) Desired my Cressid in right great exchange, Whom Troy hath still denied: but this Antenor, I know, is such a wrest in their affairs, That their negociations all must slack, Wanting his manage; and they will almost Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, In change of him: let him be sent, great princes, And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence Shall quite strike off all service I have done, In most accepted pain.

Agam. Let Diomedes bear him, And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall have What he requests of us. Good Diomed, Furnish you fairly for this interchange: Withal, bring word if Hector will to-morrow Be answered in his challenge: Ajax is ready. Dio. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden Which I am proud to bear.

[Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS.

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before their Tent.

Ulys. Achilles stands i' the entrance of his

tent:

Please it our general to pass strangely by him,
As if he were forgot; and, princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him :
I will come last: 't is like he'll question me,
Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turned
on him?

If so, I have derision med'cinable,

To use between your strangeness and his pride,
Which his own will shall have desire to drink.
It may do good: pride hath no other glass
To shew itself but pride; for supple knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.

Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along;
So do each lord; and either greet him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
Than if not looked on. I will lead the way.

Achil. What, comes the general to speak with

Must fall out with men too: what the declined is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall: for men, like butterflies,
Shew not their mealy wings but to the summer;
And not a man, for being simply man,
Hath any honour; but honour for those honours
That are without him, as place, riches, favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit:

Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
The love that leaned on them as slippery too,
Do one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:
Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did possess,
Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out
Something not worth in me such rich beholding
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses;
I'll interrupt his reading.—

How now, Ulysses?

Ulys. Now, great Thetis' son?
Achil. What are you reading?
A strange fellow here

Ulys.

Writes me, that man-how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or without, or in—
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;
As when his virtues, shining upon others,
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.

Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is borne here in the face,
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To others' eyes: nor doth the eye itself
(That most pure spirit of sense) behold itself,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed
Salutes each other with each other's form.
For speculation turns not to itself,
Till it hath travelled, and is married there
Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all.

Ulys. I do not strain at the position:
It is familiar; but at the author's drift:
Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves—
That no man is the lord of anything
(Though in and of him there be much consisting),
Till he communicate his parts to others:
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught,
Till he behold them formed in the applause
Where they are extended; which, like an arch,
reverberates

The voice again; or, like a gate of steel
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this;
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.

Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse; That has he knows not what. Nature, what things there are,

Most abject in regard, and dear in use!
What things again most dear in the esteem,
And
poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow
(An act that very chance doth throw upon him)
Ajax renowned! O, heavens, what some men do,
While some men leave to do!

How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes!
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is fasting in his wantonness!
To see these Grecian lords!-why, even already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder;
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrieking.

Achil. I do believe it: for they passed by me As misers do by beggars; neither gave to me Good word, nor look. What, are my deeds forgot?

Ulys. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,

A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are de-
voured

As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done. Perséverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue: if you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an entered tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost;-

Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on: then what they de
in present,

Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours.

For time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;

And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly, Grasps-in the comer. Welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek

Remuneration for the thing it was! For beauty, wit,

High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin-
That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,
Though they are made and moulded of things
past;

And give to dust that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.

The present eye praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
And still it might; and yet it may again,
If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent;

Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,

And drave great Mars to faction.

Achil.

Of this my privacy

I have strong reasons.

Ulys.

But 'gainst your privacy

The reasons are more potent and heroical : "Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love With one of Priam's daughters.

Achil.

Ha! known?

Ulys. Is that a wonder?

The providence that's in a watchful state,
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps;
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the

gods,

Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
There is a mystery (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state;
Which hath an operation more divine
Than breath or pen can give expressure to :
All the commérce that you have had with Troy,
As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord;
And better would it fit Achilles much,
To throw down Hector than Polyxena:
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus, now at home,
When fame shall in our islands sound her trump,
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,
"Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him."

Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak; The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break. [Exit.

Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you: A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loathed than an effeminate man In time of action. I stand condemned for this: They think, my little stomach to the war, And your great love to me, restrains you thus: Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, And, like a dewdrop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air.

Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.

Achil. How can that be?

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride and a stand: ruminates like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say, "There were wit in this head, an 't would out :" and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not shew without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i'the combat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I said, "Good-morrow, Ajax;"

and he replies, "Thanks, Agamemnon." What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.

Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his presence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus: tell him, I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this.

Patr. Jove bless great Ajax!
Ther. Humph!

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles,-
Ther. Ha!

Patr. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent;

Ther. Humph!

Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Aga

memnon.

Ther. Agamemnon?
Patr. Ay, my lord.
Ther. Ha!

Patr. What say you to 't?

Ther. God be wi' you, with all my heart.
Patr. Your answer, sir.

Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.

Patr. Your answer, sir.

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 music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: but I am sure, none, unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.

Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable creature.

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirred;

And I myself see not the bottom of it

[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance.

[Fxil.

SCENE I.-Troy. A Street.

Enter at one side, ENEAS, and Servant with a torch; at the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES, and others, with torches. Par. See, ho! who is that there?

Dei. It is the lord Æneas.

Ene. Is the prince there in person?— Had I so good occasion 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 sir, During all question of the gentle truce: But when I meet you armed, as black defiance As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. Our bloods are now in calm; and so long, health: But when contention and occasion meet, By Jove! I'll play the hunter for thy life, With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly With his face backward.-In humane gentleness, Welcome to Troy! Now, by Anchises' life, Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand, I swear, No man alive can love, in such a sort, The thing he means to kill, more excellently. Dio. We sympathise :-Jove, let Æneas live, If to my sword his fate be not the glory, A thousand complete courses of the sun! 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 noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.What business, lord, so early?

Ene. I was sent for to the king; but why, 1 know not.

Par. His purpose meets you; 't was to bring
this Greek

To Calchas' house; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid.
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:
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality wherefore I fear
We shall be much unwelcome.

Ene. That I assure you;
Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Cressid borne from Troy.
There is no help;

Par.

He merits well to have her, that doth seek her
(Not making any scruple of her soilure)
With such 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 such a costly loss of wealth and friends:
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat taméd piece;
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
Are pleased to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more:
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your country woman.
Dio. She's bitter to her country: hear me, Paris:
For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple