Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes, I mean, of ours. The yielding of her up? Fie, fie! my brother, Tro. Of common ounces? will you with counters sum And buckle in a waist most fathomless, With spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame! Helenus. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons, You are so empty of them. Should not our father Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, Because your speech hath none, that tells him so? Tro. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest: You fur your gloves with reason. reasons: Here are your You know an enemy intends you harm, Or like a star disorb'd?-Nay, if we talk of reason, With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding. Tro. What is aught, but as 'tis valu'd? Hect. But value dwells not in particular will; It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer. 'Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god; Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour. Because we now are full. It was thought meet The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce, ness Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning. Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships, And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went, (As you must need, for you all cri'd —“Go, go;”) — Cassandra. [Within.] Cry, Trojans, cry! What noise? what shriek is this? Tro. 'Tis our mad sister: I do know her voice. Cas. [Within.] Cry, Trojans ! Hect. It is Cassandra. Enter CASSANDRA, with hair dishevelled, raving. Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, And I will fill them with prophetic tears. Hect. Peace, sister, peace! Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld, Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes A moiety of that mass of moan to come. Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears! Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; Our fire-brand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen and a woe! Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit. Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains Of divination in our sister work Some touches of remorse? or is your blood Can qualify the same? Why, brother Hector, Tro. We may not think the justness of each act Such and no other than event doth form it; Nor once deject the courage of our minds, Because Cassandra's mad: her brain-sick raptures Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel Which hath our several honours all engag'd To make it gracious. For my private part, I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons; And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us Such things as might offend the weakest spleen To fight for and maintain. Paris. Else might the world convince of levity As well my undertakings as your counsels: But I attest the gods, your full consent Gave wings to my propension, and cut off All fears attending on so dire a project. For what, alas! can these my single arms ? What propugnation is in one man's valour, To stand the push and enmity of those This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, Were I alone to pass the difficulties, And had as ample power as I have will, Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done, Nor faint in the pursuit. Pri. Paris, you speak Like one besotted on your sweet delights: Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself On terms of base compulsion? Can it be, Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? Hect. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well; The reasons you allege do more conduce 'Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision. Nature craves All dues be render'd to their owners: now, What nearer debt in all humanity |