As Hector's Leifure, and your Bounties shall
Concur together, feverally intreat him.

Beat loud the Taborins, let the Trumpets blow;
That this great Soldier may his welcome know. [Exeunt.
Manent Troilus and Ulyffes.

Troi. My Lord Vlyffes, tell me, I beseech you,
In what place of the Field doth Calchas keep?
Vlyf. At Menelaus Tent, moft Princely Troilus;
There Diomede doth feaft with him to Night;
Who neither looks on Heav'n, nor on Earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the fair Creffid.

Troi. Shall I, fweet Lord, be bound to thee so much; After you part from Agamemnon's Tent,

To bring me thither?

Vlyf. You fhall command me, Sir:
As gently tell me, of what Honour was

This Creffida in Troy; had the no Lover there,
That wails her abfence?

Troi. O Sir, to fuch as boafting fhew their Scars,
A mock is due: Will you walk on, my Lord?
She was belov'd, fhe lov'd; fhe is, and doth.

But ftill, fweet Love is Food for Fortune's tooth. [Exeunt,

A CT

V.

SCENE I

SCENE before Achilles Tent in the Grecian

Camp.

Enter Achilles and Patroculus.

Achil. I'LL heat his Blood with Greeki Wine to Night, Patroclus, let us Feaft him to the height.

Pair. Here comes Therfites.

Enter Therfites.

Achil. How now, thou core of Envy? Thou crufty batch of Nature, what's the News? Ther. Why, thou Picture of what thou feem'ft, and Idol of Idiot-worshippers, here's a Letter for thee. Achil. From whence, Fragment?

Ther

Ther. Why, thou full dish of Fool, from Troy,
Patr. Who keeps the Tent now?

Ther. The Surgeon's Box, or the Patient's Wound.

1

Patr. Well Said, Adverfity; and what need these Tricks? Ther. Prithee be filent, Boy, I profit not by thy talk, Thou art thought to be Achilles's Male-Varlet.

Patr. Male-Varlet, you Rogue? What's that?

Ther. Why, his masculine Whore. Now the rotted Dif eases of the South, Guts-griping, Ruptures, Catarrhs, loads o'Gravel i'th' Backs, Lethargies, cold Palfies, and the like, take and take again fuch prepofterous Discoveries,

Potr. Why, thou damnable Box of Envy, thou, what mean'ft thou to Curfe thus?

Ther. Do I curfe thee?

Patr. Why no, you ruinous Butt, you whorefon indiftinguishable Cur.

Ther. No? Why art thou then exafperate, thou idle immatterial Skein of fley'd Silk; thou green. Sarcenet flap for a fore Eye; thou Taffel of a Prodigal's purfe, thou? Ah, how the poor World is peftred with fuch Water-flies, diminutives of Nature.

Patr. Out Gall!

Ther. Finch Egg!

Achil. My fweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in to morrow's Battel:
Here is a Letter from Queen Hecuba,

A Token from her Daughter, my fair Love,
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep
An Oath that I have fworn. I will not break it,
Fall Greek, fail Fame, Honour, or go, or stay,
My major Vow lyes here; this I'll obey:
Come, come, Therfites, help to trim my Tent,
This Night in Banqueting muft all be spent.
Away, Patroclus.

[Exit. Ther. With too much Blood, and too little Brain, these two may run mad: But if with too much Brain, and too little Blood, they do, I'll be a Curer of Mad-men. Here's Agamemnon, an honeft Fellow enough, and one that loves Quails, but he has not fo much Brain as Ear-wax; and the good Transformation of Jupiter there his Brother, the Bull, the primitive Statue, and oblique Memorial of Cuckolds,

a thrifty shooting-horn in a Chain, hanging at his Brother's Leg; to what Form, but that he is, fhould Wit larded with Malice, and Malice forced with Wit turn him to? to an Afs were nothing, he is both Afs and Ox; to an Ox were nothing, he is both Ox and Afs; to be a Dog, a Mule, a Cat, a Fitchew, a Toad, a Lizard, an Owl, a Puttock, or a Herring without a Roe, I would not care: But to be Menelaus, I would confpire against Destiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were Therfites; for I care not to be the Lowse of a Lazar, fo I were not Menelaus. Hoy-day, Spi

rits and Fires.

Enter Hector, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulyffes, Neftor, and Diomede, with Lights.

Aga. We go wrong, we go wrong.

Ajax. No, yonder 'tis, there where we fee the light.' Hect. I trouble you.

Ajax. No, not a whit.

Enter Achilles.

Vlyf. Here comes himself to guide you.

Achile Welcome brave Hector, welcome Princes all. Aga. So, now fair Prince of Troy, I bid good Night, Ajax commands the Guard to tend on you.

Hect. Thanks, and good Night to the Greek's General. Men. Good Night, my Lord.

Hect. Good Night, fweet Lord Menelaus.

Ther. Sweet Draught--fweet quoth a---fweet Sink, fweet Sewer.

Achil. Good Night, and welcome, both at once, to those that go or tarry.

Aga. Good Night.

Achil. Old Neftor tarries, and you too, Diomede, Keep Hector Company an hour or two.

Dio. I cannot, Lord, I have important Bufinefs,

The tide whereof is now; Good Night, great Hector.
Hect. Give me your Hand.

Vlyf. Follow his Torch, he goes to Calchas's Tent,

I'll keep you Company.

Troi. Sweet Sir, you honour me.

Helt. And fo good Night.

Asbil. Come, come, enter my Tent.

[To Troilus.

[Exeunt. Ther.

Ther. That fame Diomede's a falfe-hearted Rogue, a most unjust Knave; I will no more truft him when he leers, than I will a Serpent when he hiffes: He will spend his Mouth and Promife, like Brabler the Hound; but when he performs, Aftronomers foretel it, that it is prodigious, there will come fome change: The Sun borrows of the Moon, when Diomede keeps his Word. I will rather leave to fee Hector, than not to dog him: They fay, he keeps a Trojan Drab, and uses the Traitor Calchas his Tent. I'll afterNothing but Lechery; all incontinent Varlets.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Calchas Tent.

Enter Diomede.

Dio. What are you up here, ho? speak.

Cal. Who calls?

Dio. Diomede; Calchas, I think; where's your Daughter? Cal. She comes to you,

Enter Troilus and Ulyffes, after them Therfites. Vlyf. Stand where the Torch may not discover us. Enter Creffid.

Troi. Creffid, come forth to him!

Dio. How now, my charge?

Cre. Now my fweet Guardian; hark, a word with you.

Troi. Yea, fo familiar?

Vlyf. She will fing to any Man at first fight.

[Whispers.

Ther. And any Man may find her, if he can take her life: fhe's noted.

Dio. Will you remember?

Cre. Remember? yes.

Dio. Nay, but do then; and let your mind be coupled with your words.

Troi. What fhould the remember?

Vlyf. Lift.

Cre. Sweet, Honey Greek, tempt me no more to Folly.

Ther. Roguery

Dio. Nay, then.

Cre. I'll tell you what.

Dio. Fo, fo, come tell a pin, you are a forfworn

Cre.

Cre. In Faith I cannot: what would you have me do? Ther. A jugling Trick, to be fecretly open.

Dio. What did you fwear you would bestow on me? Cre. I prithee do not hold me to mine Oath; Bid me do any thing but that, fweet Greek.

Die. Good Night.

Troi. Hold, Patience

Vlyf. How now, Trojan?

Cre. Diomede.

Dio. No, no, good Night: I'll be your Fool no more. Troi. Thy better must.

Cre. Hark, one word in your Ear.

Troi. O Plague and Madness!

Vlyf. You are mov'd, Prince; let us depart, I pray you, Left your displeasure should enlarge it felf

To wrathful Terms: this place is dangerous;

The time right deadly: I befeech you go.
Troi. Behold, I pray you

Ulys, Nay, good my Lord go off:

You flow to great distraction: Come, my Lord.

Troi. I pray thee ftay?

Vlyf. You have not patience; come.

Troi. I pray you ftay; by Hell, and Hell's Torments,

I will not speak a word.

Dio. And fo good Night.

Cre. Nay, but you part in anger.

Troi. Doth that grieve thee? O wither'd truth!

Vlyf. Why, how now, Lord?

Troi. By Jove, I will be patient.

Cre. Guardian

why, Greek

Dio. Fo, fo, adieu, you palter.

Cre. In Faith, I do not: come hither once again.
Uly. You shake, my Lord, at fomething; will you go?

You will break out.

Troi. She ftroaks his Cheek,

Vlyf. Come, come.

Troi. Nay, flay; by Jove, I will not speak a word. There is between my Will, and all Offences,

A guard of patience, ftay a little while.

Ther.