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Priam, King of Troy.

his sons.

{ Trojan commanders. Antenor, Calchas, a Trojan priest, taking part with the

Pandarus, Uncle to Cressida.
Margarelon, a bastard son of Priam.
Agamemnon, the Grecian general.
Menelaus, his brother.
U ysses,

Grecian commanders.
Thersites, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.
Alexander, servant to Cressida.
Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Seroant to

Helen, urife to Menelaus.
Andromache, wife to Hector.
Cassandra, daughter to Priam ; a prophetess.
Cressida, daughter to Calchas.

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants. Scene, Troy, and the Grecian camp before it.


IN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece The princes orgulous*, their high blood chaf'd, Have to the port of Athens sent their ships, Fraught with the ministers and instruments Of cruel war: Sixty and nine, that wore Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay Put forth toward Phrygia : and their vow is made, To ransack Troy; within whose strong immures The ravisb'd Helen, Menelaus' queen, With wanton Paris sleeps; And that's the quarrel. To Tenedos they come; And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Their warlike fraughtaget: Now on Dardan plains The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch Their brave pavilions : Priam's six-gated city, Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan, And Antenorides, with massy staples, And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts, Sperrt up the sons of Troy. Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, On one and other side, Trojan and Greek, Sets all on hazard And hither am I come A prologue arm'd, but not in confidence of author's pen, or actor's voice; but suited In like conditions as our argument, To tell you, fair beholders, that our play

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Leaps o'er the vaunt* and firstlings of those broils,
'Ginning in the middle; starting thence away
To what may be digested in a play.
Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are ;
Now, good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.

* Avaunt, what went before.

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SCENE I. Troy. Before Priam's palace.

Enter Troilus arm'd, and Pandarus.

CALL here my varlet, I'll unarm again:
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
That fiud such cruel battle here within ?
Each Trojan, that is master of his heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none.

Pan. Will this geert ne'er be mended ?
Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their

Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance ;
Less valiant than the virgin in the night.
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy,

Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this : for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He,

+ Habit.

# A servant to a knight.
| Weaker

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