pre

he wears his tongue in's arms. I will put on his fence; let Patroclus make his demands to me, you fhall fee the Pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus-tell him, I humbly defire the valiant Ajax, to invite the moft valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent, and to procure fafe Conduct for his Person of the magnanimous and moft illuftrious, fix or feven times honour'd, captain general, of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, &c. Do this.

Pat. Jove blefs great Ajax!

Ther. Hum

Pat. I come from the worthy Achilles.

Ther. Ha!

Pat. Who moft humbly defires you to invite

Hector to his Tent.

Ther. Hum

Pat. And to procure fafe Conduct from Agamem

non.

Ther. Agamemnon!

Pat. Ay, my lord.

Ther. Ha!

Pat. What say you to't?

Ther. God be wi'you, with all my heart.

Pat. Your anfwer, Sir.

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.

Pat. Your answer, Sir.

Ther. Fare ye 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 knock'd out his brains, I know not. But, I am fure, none; unless the fidler Apollo get his finews to make Catlings on. Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him ftraight. Ther. Let me carry another to his horfe; for that's the more capable creature.

Achil. My mind is troubled like a fountain ftirr'd, And I myself fee not the bottom of it. [Exit. 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 fuch a valiant ignorance. [Exe.

A CT

IV SCENE I.

A Street in TROY.

Enter at one door Eneas, with a torch; at another, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomede; Grecians, with Torches.

PARIS.

EE, ho! who is that there?

SEE

Dei. It is the lord Eneas..

Ene. Is the Prince there in person? Had I fo good occafion to lie long,

As you, Prince Paris, nought but heav'nly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio. That's my mind too good-morrow, lord Eneas.

Par. A valiant Greek, Eneas; take his hand;
Witness the procefs of your speech, wherein
You told, how Diomede 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 arm'd, as black defiance
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and th'other Diomede 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, purfuit and policy.

Ene. And thou fhalt 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 fwear,
No man alive can love, in such 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 thoufand 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 defpightful, 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' house, and there to render him

(For the enfreed Antenor) the fair Creffid.

Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Hafte thee before. I conftantly 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 whereof, I fear,
We shall be much unwelcome.

Ene. That affure you.

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,

Than Creffid borne from Troy.

Par. There is no help;

The bitter difpofition of the time

Will have it fo.

On, lord, we'll follow you.

[Exit.

Ene. Good-morrow all. Par. And tell me, noble Diomede; tell me true, Ev'n in the foul of good found fellowship, Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen moft? Myfelf, or Menelaus?

Dio.

Dio. Both alike.

He merits well to have her, that doth feek her,
(Not making any fcruple 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 no lefs nor more,
But he as he, which heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your Country-woman. Dio. She's bitter to her Country: here me, Paris, For ev'ry falfe drop in her baudy veins

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

A Trojan hath been flain. Since she could fpeak,
She hath not giv'n fo many good words breath,
As, for her, Greeks and Trojans fuffer'd death.

Par. Fair Diomede, you do as chapmen do, Difpraise the thing that you desire to buy: But we in filence hold this virtue well; We'll not commend what we intend not fell.

Here lies our way.

[Exeunt.

Troi. DEAR, trouble not yourself; the morn is

cold.

Cre. Then, fweet my lord, I'll call my uncle down: He fhall unbolt the gates.

Troi. Trouble him not

To bed, to bed-fleep feal thofe pretty eyes,

And

And give as foft attachment to thy fenfes,
As infants empty of all thought!

Cre. Good-morrow then.

Troi. I pr'ythee now, to bed.

Cre. Are you a weary of me?

Troi. O Creffida! but that the bufy day, Wak'd by the lark, has rous'd the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.

Cre. Night hath been too brief.

Troi. Befhrew the witch! with venomous wights fhe ftays,

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

Cre. Pr'ythee, tarry-you men will never tarry—
O foolish Creffida-I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark, there's
one up.

Pan. [within] What's all the doors open here?
Troi. It is your uncle.

Enter Pandarus.

Cre. A peftilence on him! now will he be mocking; I fhall have fuch a life

Pan. How now, how now? how go maiden-heads? Hear you, maid; where's my coufin Creffida?

Cre. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking

uncle:

You bring me to do- and then you flout me too. Pan. To do what? to do what? let her fay, what: What have I brought you to do?

Cre. Come, come, befhrew your heart; you'll never be good; nor fuffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha! alas, poor wretch; a poor Capocchia,haft not flept to night? would he not (a naughty man) let it fleep? a bugbear take him! [One knocks. Cre. Did not I tell you?-'would he were knock'd

o th