ENE.

Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle trucea:

But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance,

As heart can think or courage execute.

DIO. The one and other Diomed embraces.

Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health:

But, when contention and occasion meet,

By Jove, I 'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.
ENE. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
With his face backward.-In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Trog! now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive, can love, in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dro. We sympathise :-Jove, let Æneas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand 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 despitefull'st gentle greeting,

The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.-
What business, lord, so early?

ENE. I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not.
PAR. His purpose meets you: "T was to bring this Greek
To Calchas' house; and there to render him,

For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid:
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before us: I constantly do think,
(Or, rather, call my thought a certain knowledge,)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night;
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality, whereof, I fear,

We shall be much unwelcome.

a The sentence scarcely requires explanation: Æneas wishes Diomedes health, whilst there is no question, argument, between them but what arises out of the truce.

This is the common construction of the age of Shakspere: the modern reading is despiteful.

ENE. Good morrow, all.

PAR. And tell me, noble Diomed; faith, tell me true,
Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,-
Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen mosta,
Myself, or Menelaus?

He merits well to have her that doth seek her
(Not making any scruple of her soilure)
With such 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 such a costly loss 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 less nor more :
But he as he; which heavier for a whore b

b?

PAR. You are too bitter to your countrywoman.
Dio. She's bitter to her country: Hear me, Paris.—
For every false drop in her bawdy veins

A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple

Of her contaminated carrion weight,

A Trojan hath been slain; since she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath,
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.
PAR. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,

Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:
But we in silence hold this virtue well,—
We'll not commend what we intend to sellc.

Here lies our way.

[Exit.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same. Court before the House of Pandarus.

Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.

TRO. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold.

CRES. Then, sweet my lord, I 'll call mine uncle down;

He shall unbolt the gates.

a Most is the reading of the folio; the quarto, best.

This is the reading of the folio.

• Warburton proposed to read not sell, which is evidently the meaning,-antithetically opposed to buy. Tieck and Voss support the change of reading; but our principle is, not to alter the text. In this respect it is the same in both editions, the quarto and the folio.

CRES.

Good morrow, then.

Are you aweary of me?

TRO. O Cressida! but that the busy day,

Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys a no longer,
I would not from thee.

CRES.

Night hath been too brief.

TRO. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays,

b

As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love,

With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
You will catch cold, and curse me.

CRES. Prithee, tarry;-you men will never tarry.

O foolish Cressid!-I might have still held off,

And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up. PAN. [Within.] What, are all the doors

open

here?

TRO. It is your uncle.

Enter PANDARUS.

CRES. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking:
I shall have such a life,-

PAN. How now, how now? how go maidenheads?

my cousin Cressid?

CRES. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!

You bring me to do, and then you flout me too.

Here, you maid! where 's

PAN. To do what? to do what?-let her say what: what have I brought you to do?

CRES. Come, come; beshrew your heart: you 'll ne'er be good,

Nor suffer others.

PAN. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia! hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! [Knocking. CRES. Did not I tell you?-'would he were knock'd o' the head!—

Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see.

My lord, come you again into my chamber:

-

You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.

TRO. Ha, ha!

a Joys in the quarto; the folio, eyes.

Tediously in the quarto; the folio, hideously.

Capocchia. Florio, in his 'Italian Dictionary,' explains capocchio as a shallow skonce, a loggerhead."

CRES. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.-
How earnestly they knock! pray you, come in;
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.

[Knocking.

[Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA. PAN. [Going to the door.] Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now? what 's the matter?

Enter ENEAS.

ENE. Good-morrow, lord, good-morrow.

PAN. Who's there? my lord Æneas? By my troth
I knew you not: what news with you so early?

ENE. Is not prince Troilus here?

PAN. Here! what should he do here?

ENE. Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny him;

It doth import him much to speak with me.

PAN. Is he here, say you? 't is more than I know, I'll be sworn :- -For my own part, I came in late: What should he do here?

ENE. Who!-nay, then :-Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere y' are 'ware. You'll be so true to him, to be false to him: Do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go".

As PANDARUS is going out, enter TROILUS.

TRO. How now? what 's the matter?

ENE. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My matter is so rash: There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.

TRO.

Is it concluded so?

ENE. By Priam, and the general state of Troy:

They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

Tro. How my achievements mock me!

I will go meet them: and, my lord Æneas, We met by chance; you did not find me here. ENE. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature Have not more gift in taciturnity.

[Exeunt TROILUS and ENEAS. PAN. Is 't possible? no sooner got but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke 's neck.

a Steevens printed this speech metrically, according to his notion of metre.

Enter CRESSIDA.

CRES. How now? what 's the matter? who was here?
PAN. Ah, ah!

CRES. Why sigh you so profoundly? where 's my lord gone
Tell me, sweet uncle, what 's the matter?

PAN. 'Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above!

CRES. O the gods!—what 's the matter?

PAN. Prithee, get thee in. 'Would thou hadst ne'er been born! I knew thou wouldst be his death:-O poor gentleman!—A plague upon Antenor!

CRES. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, I beseech you, what's the

matter?

PAN. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor: thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus; 't will be his death; 't will be his bane; he cannot bear it.

CRES. O you immortal gods!—I will not go.

PAN. Thou must.

CRES. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity;

No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,

As the sweet Troilus.-O you gods divine!

Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood

If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremity you can;

a

But the strong base and building of my love

Is as the very centre of the earth,

Drawing all things to it.—I will go in and weep;—

PAN. Do, do.

CRES. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks;
Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The same.

Before Pandarus' House.

Enter PARIS, TROILUS, ENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES.