SCENE IV.-The same. A Room in Pandarus' House.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.

PAN. Be moderate, be moderate.
CRES. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And no less in a sense as strong as that
Which causeth ita: How can I moderate it?
If I could temporise with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying cross:
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter TROILUS.

PAN. Here, here, here he comes, a sweet duck!

CRES. O Troilus! Troilus!

PAN. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too: O heart,-as the goodly saying is,—

O heart, heavy heart,

Why sigh'st thou without breaking?

where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy smart,

By friendship, nor by speaking.

There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse: we see it, we see it.-How now, lambs? TRO. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity,

This is the reading of the folio; the quarto has,

"And violenteth in a sense as strong

As that which causeth it."

Cross in the folio; dross in the quarto. The folio gives as clear a meaning, without a mixed metaphor.

TRAGEDIES.-VOL. II.

E

That the blest gods,-as angry with my fancy,

More bright in zeal than the devotion which

Cold lips blow to their deities,-take thee from me. CRES. Have the gods envy?

PAN. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 't is too plain a case.

CRES. And is it true that I must go from Troy?

TRO. From Troy and Troilus.
CRES.
Is 't possible?
TRO. And suddenly; where injury of chance

Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath:
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how :
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,

With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu ;

And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasting with the salt of broken tears.

ENE. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready?

TRO. Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the Genius so
Cries, "Come!" to him that instantly must die.—
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.

PAN. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up

10

TRO. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of heart 10,-
CRES. I true! how now? what wicked deem is this?
TRO. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us:

I speak not," be thou true," as fearing thee;
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,

a Distasting in the folio; the quarto, distasted.

[Exit PANDARUs.

b Grecians in all the early editions. The modern editors have silently given us Greeks, in their love of "metre."

That there's no maculation in thy heart:

But "be thou true," say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation; be thou true,
And I will see thee.

CRES. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers

As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true.

TRO. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
CRES. And you this glove. When shall I see you?
TRO. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,

To give thee nightly visitation.

But yet, be true.

CRES.

O heavens!-be true, again?

TRO. Hear why I speak it, love;

The Grecian youths are full of quality;

Their loving well compos'd with gift of nature,
Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise a;
How novelties may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy

(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin)
Makes me afraid.

TRO. Die I a villain then!

In this I do not call your faith in question,
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,

Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,

To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:
But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,

That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.

CRES. Do you think I will?

TRO. NO.

But something may be done that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,

When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.

* These are three fine lines, perfectly intelligible:-this love is well composed with the gift of nature, which gift (natural quality) is flowing, and swelling over, with arts and exercise. The second line is not found in the quarto, which reads,

"The Grecian youths are full of quality,

And swelling o'er with arts and exercise."

The poet strengthened the image in his last copy; but he did not anticipate that editors would arise, who, having two readings, would make a hash, and give us,

"The Grecian youths are full of quality;

They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature flowing,
And swelling o'er with arts and exercise."

ENE. [Within.] Nay, good my lord,-
TRO.

PAR. [Within.] Brother Troilus !
TRO.

Come, kiss, and let us part.
hither;

Good brother, come you
And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you.
CRES. My lord, will you be true?

TRO. Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault;
While others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity;

DIO.

Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns,
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit
Is-plain and true,-there 's all the reach of it.

Enter ENEAS, Paris, Antenor, DEIPHOBUS, and DIOMEDES.

Welcome, sir Diomed! here is the lady,
Which for Antenor we deliver you:

At the port, lord, I 'll give her to thy hand;
And, by the way, possess thee what she is.
Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Ilion.

Fair lady Cressid,

So please you, save the thanks this prince expects:
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,
Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed

You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
TRO. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,
To shame the seala of my petition to thee,
In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises,
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant.
I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge;
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
I'll cut thy throat.

DIO.

O, 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,

Seal is the reading of all the old copies. Warburton changed this to zeal, which everybody follows,-in ignorance of the strong meaning attached to seal in Shakspere's age. Did the commentators never hear of such a line as

"Seals of love, but seal'd in vain"?

I'll answer to my lust: And know you, lord,
I'll nothing do on charge: To her own worth
She shall be priz'd; but that you say be 't so,
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour,-no.
TRO. Come, to the port.-I 'll tell thee, Diomed,

This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.—
Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk.

PAR. Hark! Hector's trumpet.
ENE.

[Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMED. [Trumpet heard.

How have we spent this morning!
The prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him in the field.

PAR. T is Troilus' fault: Come, come, to field with him.

DEI. Let us make ready straight.

ENE. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity,

Let us address to tend on Hector's heels:

The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
On his fair worth, and single chivalry.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-The Grecian Camp. Lists set out.

Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES,
NESTOR, and others.

AGAM. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,

Anticipating time. With starting courage,
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajaxa; that the appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant,
And hale him hither.

АЈАХ.

Thou, trumpet, there 's my purse.
Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe:
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek

Out-swell the colic of puff'd Aquilon:

• Perhaps, all things considered, there never was a book so correctly printed as the first folio of Shakspere. If it had been reprinted, with a literal attention to the punctuation even, up to the present hour, we should have a better copy than England possesses in a hundred shapes. We have an instance before us. Our text is pointed as the old copy (which is also the punctuation of the quarto). This is the modern punctuation :—

"Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,
Anticipating time with starting courage.
Give with thy trumpet," &c.