When we will attempt the frailty of our Powers,
Prefuming on their changeful potency.
Aneas within. Nay, good my Lord.
Troi. Come kifs, and let us part.
Paris within. Brother Troilus.
Troi. Good Brother, come you hither,
And bring Eneas and the Grecian with you.
Cre. My Lord, will you be true?
Troi. Who I? Alas, it is my Voice, my Fault:
While others fish with Craft for great Opinion,
I, with great truth, catch meer Simplicity:
While fome with cunning gild their Copper Crowns,
With truth and plainnefs I do wear mine bare;
Enter Eneas, Paris, and Diomedes.
Fear not my Truth; the Moral of my Wit
Is plain and true, there's all the reach of it.
Welcome, Sir Diomede, here is the Lady,
Which for Anthenor we deliver you.
At the Port (Lord) I'll give her to thy Hand,'
And by the way poffefs thee what fhe is.
Entreat her fair, and by my Soul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou ftand at mercy of my Sword,
Name Creffid, and thy Life fhall be as fafe
As Priam is in Ilion.
Diom. Fair Lady Creffid,
So please you, fave the Thanks this Prince expects:
The luftre in your Eyes, Heav'n in your Cheek,
Pleads your fair ufage, and to Diomede
You fhall be Mistress, and command him wholly.
Troi. Grecian, thou doft not use me courteously,
To fhame the Seal of my Petition towards thee
By praifing her. I tell thee, Lord of Greece,
She is as far high-foaring o'er thy Praises,
As thou unworthy to be call'd her Servant:
I charge thee ufe her well, even for my Charge:
For by the dreadful Pluto, if thou doft not,
(Tho' the great bulk Achilles be thy Guard)
I'll cut thy Throat.
Diom. Oh be not mov'd, Prince Troilus;
Let me be privileg'd by my Place and Message,
To be a Speaker free; When I am hence,
I'll answer to my Luft: And know, my Lord,
I'll nothing do on charge; to her own worth
She fhall be priz'd: But that you fay, be't fo:
I'll fpeak it in my Spirit and Honour-No.
Troi. Come to the Port-I'll tell thee, Diomede,
This Brave shall oft make thee to hide thy Head:
Lady, give me your Hand-And as we walk,
To our own felves bend we our needful Talk.
Par. Hark, Hector's Trumpet !
Ane. How have we spent this Morning? The Prince muft think me tardy and remifs, That fwore to ride before him in the Field. Par. 'Tis Troilus fault.
Come, come to Field with him.
Dio. Let us make ready ftrait.
Ane. Yea, with a Bridegroom's fresh alacrity
Let us addrefs to tend on Hector's Heels:
The Glory of our Troy doth this day lye
On his fair Worth, and fingle Chivalry.
SCENE II. The Grecian Camp.
Enter Ajax Armed, Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulyffes, Neftor, Calchas, &c.
Aga. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,
Anticipating Time. With ftarting Courage,
Give with thy Trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajax, that the appalled Air
May pierce the Head of the great Combatant,
And hale him hither.
Ajax. Thou Trumpet, there's my Purse;
Now crack thy Lungs, and fplit thy Brafen Pipe:
Blow Villain, 'till thy fphered bias Cheek
Out-fwell the Cholick of puft Aquilon :
Come ftretch thy Cheft, and let thy Eyes fpout Blood:
Thou bloweft for Hector.
Vly. No Trumpet answers.
Achil. Tis but early days.
Enter Diomede and Creffida.
Aga. Is't not young Diomede with Calchas Daughter? Uly. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his Gate, He rifes on his Toe; that Spirit of his
In Afpiration lifts him from the Earth.
Aga. Is this the Lady Cressida?
Aga. Moft dearly welcome to the Greeks, fweet Lady. Neft. Our General doth falute you with a Kifs.
Vlyf. Yet is your Kindness but particular; 'twere better fhe were kift in general.
Neft. And very courtly Counsel: I'll begin. So much for Neftor.
Achil. I'll take that Winter from your Lips; fair Lady. Achilles bids you welcome.
Men. I had good Argument for kiffing once.
Patr. But that's no Argument for kiffing now;
For thus pop'd Paris in his Hardiment.
Vlyf. Oh deedly Gall, and theme of all our Scorns,
For which we lose our Heads to gild his Horns.
Patr. The firft was Menelaus kifs---this mine-.-.
Patroclus kiffes you.
Men. O this is trim.
Patr. Paris and I kifs evermore for him.
Mex. I'll have my kifs, Sir: Lady, by your leave.
Cre. In kiffing do you render, or receive?
Patr. Both take and give.
Cre. I'll make my match to give,
The kifs you take is better than you give; therefore no kiss.
Men. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.
Cre. You are an odd Man, give even, or give none.
Men. An odd Man, Lady? every Man is odd.
Cre. No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true,
That you are odd, and he is even with you.
Men. You fillip me o'th' head.
Uly. It were no match, your Nail against his Horn: May I, fweet Lady, beg a kiss of you?
Cre. You may.
Vly. I do defire it.
Vlyf. Why then, for Venus fake give me a kifs:
When Helen is a Maid again, and his-
Cre. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due.
Vlyf. Never's my Day, and then a kiss of you.
Dio. Lady, a word- -I'll bring you to your Father
Neft. A Woman of quick Senfe.
[Diomedes leads out Creffida, then returns, Vlyf. Fie, fie upon her:
There's Language in her Eye, her Cheek, her Lip:
Nay, her Foot fpeaks, her wanton Spirits look out
At every joint, and motive of her Body:
Oh these Encounters, are fo glib of Tongue,
That give a coafting welcome e'er it comes;
And wide unclafp the Tables of their Thoughts,
To every tickling Reader: Set them down,
For fluttish fpoils of Opportunity,
And Daughters of the Game.
Enter Hector, Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Helenus, and Attendants. All. The Trojans Trumpet.
Aga. Yonder comes the Troop.
Ane. Hail all you ftate of Greece; what fhall be done To him that Victory commands? or do you purpose, A Victor shall be known? Will you, the Knights Shall to the edge of all extremity
Purfue each other, or fhall be divided
By any Voice, or order of the Field? Hector bad ask.
Aga. Which way would Hector have it?
Ane. He cares not, he'll obey Conditions.
Aga. 'Tis done like Hector, but fecurely done,
A little proudly, and great deal defpifing
The Knight oppos'd.
Ene. If not Achilles, Sir, what is your Name?
Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.
Ane. Therefore Achilles; but whate'er, know this
Is the extremity of great and little:
Valour and Pride excel themselves in Hector;
The one almoft as infinite as all,
The other blank as nothing; weigh him well;
And that which looks like Pride, is Curtefie;
This Ajax is half made of Hector's Blood,
In love whereof, half Hector ftays at home:
Half Heart, half Hand, half Hector, comes to feek
This blended Knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
Achil. A Maiden Battel then? O, I perceive you.
Aga. Here is Sir Diomede: Go, gentle Knight,
Stand by our Ajax; as you and Lord Æneas
Confent upon the order of their Fight,
So be it; either to the uttermoft,
Or elfe a breach, the Combatants being kin,
Half ftints their ftrife before their ftrokes begin.
Vlyf. They are oppos'd already.
Ajax. What Trojan is that fame that looks so heavy?
Vlyf. The youngest Son of Priam,
And a true Knight; they call him Troilus;
Not yet mature, yet matchlefs, firm of Word,
Speaking in Deeds, and deedlefs in his Tongue;
Not foon provok'd, nor being provok'd, foon calm'd.
His Heart and Hand both open, and both free;
For what he has he gives, what thinks he fhews;
Yet gives he not 'till Judgment guide his Bounty,
Nor dignifies an impair Thought with Breath;
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous,
For Hector in his blaze of Wrath fubfcribes,
To tender Objects; but he in heat of Action
Is more vindicative than jealous Love.
They call him Troilus, and on him erect
A fecond hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus fays Eneas, one that knows the Youth,
Even to his Inches; and with private Soul,
Did in great Ilion thus tranflate him to me.
Aga. They are in Action.
Neft. Now Ajax hold thine own.
Troi. Hector, thou fleep'ft, awake thee.
Aga. His Blows are well difpos'd; there Ajax. [Trumpets
Dio. You must no more,
Ane. Princes, enough, fo please you.
Ajax. I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
Hect. Why then, will I no more:
Thou art, great Lord, my Father's Sifter's Son;
A Coufin German to great Priam's Seed;
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