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wrong, ere y’are aware: you'll be so true to him, to be false to
him: do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him bither, go.

Enter Troilus.
Troi. How now? what's the matter ?

Æne. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My matter is so harsh: there is at hand
Paris

your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomede, 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 Cresida.

Troi. Is it concluded so?

Æne. By Priam, and the general state of Troy.
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

Troi. How my archievements mock me!
I will go meet them; and (my lord Æneas)
We met by chance, you did not find me here.

Æne. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of neighbour Pandar
Have not more gift in taciturnity.

[Exeunt. S CE N E. IV.

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Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost: the devil take An-
tenor ;

the
young prince will

go

mad: a plague upon Antenor ; I would they had broke's neck.

Cre. How now? what's the matter? who was here?
Pan. Ah, ah!--

Cre. 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.

Cre.

s nature.

Cre. O the gods! what's the matter?

Pan. Pr’ythee get thee in; would thou had'st ne'er been born: I knew thou would't be his death. O poor gentleman! a plague

upon Antenor.

Cre. 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 chang’d for Antenor; thou must go to thy father, and be gone from Troilus: 'cwill be his death ; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.

Cre. O you immortal gods! I will not go.
Pan. Thou must.

Cre, I will not, uncle: I've 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 falshood,
If ever she leave Troilus. Time and death,
Do to this body what extreams you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is, as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all to it. I'll go in and weep.

Pan. Do, do.

Cre. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks,
Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart
With founding Troilus. I'll not go from Troy. (Exeunt.

SCENE V.

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Enter Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and

Diomedes.

Par. It is great morning, and the hour prefixt
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek

Comes

Comes fast upon us: good my brother Troilus,
Tell
you

the lady what she is to do, And halte her to the purpose.

Troi. Walk into her house:
I'll bring her to the Grecian presently;
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there offering to it his heart.

Par. I know what 'tis to love,
And would, as I shall pity, I could help.
Please
you walk in, my lords.

S CE N E VI.

(Exeunt.

Enter Pandarus and Crellida.
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.

Cre, Why tell you me of moderation ?
The grief is fine, full, perfect that I taste,
And in its sense is no less strong, than that
Which causeth it. How can I moderate it?
If I could temporize 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' dross.

Enter Troilus.
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes, a sweet duck.
Cre, O Troilus, Troilus!

Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! let me embrace too: Oh heart, (as the goodly saying is :)

O heart, O heavy heart,

Why right thou without breaking ? Vol. VI.

L

where y cross

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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 ?

Troi. Cressid, I love thee in so strange a purity;
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.

Cre. Have the gods envy?
Pan. Ay, ay, 'tis too plain a case.
Cre. And is it true, that I must

go

from Troy?
Troi. A bateful truth.
Cre. What, and from Troilus too?
Troi. From Troy, and Troilus.
Cre. Is it possible?

Troi. And suddenly: while injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, juftles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoyndure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embraces, strangles our dear vows,
Ev’n in the birth of our own labouring breath.
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Each other bought, must poorly sell our selves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious Time, now with a robber's hastes,
Crams his rich thiev'ry up, he knows not how.
As many farewels as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up all in one loose adieu;
And scants us with a single familh'd kiss,
Distafted with the salt of broken tears.

Æneas

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Æneas within.) My lord, is the lady ready?

Troi. Hark, you are callid. 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 by the root.

Cre. I must then to the Grecians ?

Troi. No remedy. When shall we see again? Hear me, my love ; be thou but true of heart

Cre. I true? how now? what wicked deem is this?

Troi. Nay, we must use expoftulation 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,
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.

Cre. O you shall be expos’d, my lord, to dangers
As infinite, as imminent: but I'll be true.

Troi. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
Cre. And you this glove. When shall I see you?

Troi. I will corrupt the Grecian centinels
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet be true.

Cre. O heav'ns! be true again?

Troi. Hear while I speak it, love:
The Grecian youths are full of subtle qualities,
They're loving, well compos’d, with gift of nature
Flowing, and swelling o'er with arts and exercise;
How novelties may move, and parts with person---
Alas, a kind of godly jealousie

(Which

L 2

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