The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours: God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.

[Nor shall this peace sleep with her: But as when

The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new create another heir,

As great in admiration as herself:

So shall she leave her blessedness to one, (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness),

Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,

That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness of his name

Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish,

And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches To all the plains about him;- -Our children's

children

Shall see this, and bless heaven.

K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders.] Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England, An aged princess; many days shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it. 'Would I had known no more! but she must die, She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, A most unspotted lily shall she pass

To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
K. Hen. O lord archbishop,

Thou hast made me now a man; never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing:
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my
Maker.-

I thank ye all,-To you, my good lord mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholden;
I have received much honour by your presence,

And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords;

Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye, She will be sick else. This day, no man think He has business at his house; for all shall stay, This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.

'Tis ten to one this play can never please
All that are here: Some come to take their ease,
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis
clear,

They'll say, 'tis naught: others, to hear the city
Abus'd extremely, and to cry, that's witty!
Which we have not done neither: that, I fear
All the expected good we are like to hear
For this play at this time, is only in
The merciful construction of good women;
For such a one we show'd them; If they smile,
And say, 'twill do, I know, within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
If they hold, when their ladies bid them clap.

TROILUS

AND

CRESSIDA.

ANTENOR,

Trojan Commanders.

CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking part with the

Greeks.

PANDARUS, Uncle to Cressida.

MARGARELON, a bastard Son of Priam.

AGAMEMNON, the Grecian General.

MENELAUS, his Brother.

ACHILLES,

AJAX,

ULYSSES,

NESTOR,

Grecian Commanders.

DIOMEDES,

PATROCLUS,

THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.
ALEXANDER, Servant to Cressida.

Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Servant to Diomedes.

HELEN, Wife to Menelans.

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.

Troilus and Cressida.

PROLOGUE.

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 ravish'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 fraughtage: 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,
Sperr 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
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.