Heare Troians, and ye well arm'd Greeks, what my strong mind (diffusde

Through all my spirits) commands me speake; Saturnius hath not usde

His promist favour for our truce, but (studying both our ils)
Will never ceasse till Mars, by you, his ravenous stomacke fils,
With ruin'd Troy; or we consume, your mightie Sea-borne fleet.
Amongst you all, whose breast includes, the most impulsive mind,
Let him stand forth as combattant, by all the rest designde.
Before whom thus I call high Jove, to witnesse of our strife;
If he, with home-thrust iron can reach, th' exposure of my life,
(Spoiling my armes) let him at will, convey them to his tent;
But let my body be returnd; that Troys two-sext descent
May waste it in the funerall Pile; if I can slaughter him,
(Apollo honoring me so much) Ile spoile his conquerd lim,
And beare his armes to Ilion, where in Apollos shrine
lle hang them, as my trophies due: his body Ile resigne
To be disposed by his friends, in flamie funerals,
And honourd with erected tombe, where Hellespontus fals
Into Egæum; and doth reach, even to your navall rode;
That when our beings, in the earth, shall hide their period;
Survivers, sailing the blacke sea, may thus his name renew:
This is his monument, whose bloud, long since, illustrate Hector
slew.

This shall posteritie report, and my fame never die."

(4) SCENE III.-Blockish Ajax.] From the subjoined description of the Ajaxes as portrayed by Lydgate, it would appear that Shakespeare, for dramatic effect, had purposely confounded Ajax Telamonius with Ajax Oileus:—

"Oileus Ayax was right corpulent,

To be well cladde he set al his entent
In rych aray he was ful curyous,
Although he were of body corsyous

Of armes great with shoulders square and brode;
It was of him almost a horse lode.
High of stature, and boys tous in a pres,
And of his speche rude and rechles.
Ful many worde in ydel hym asterte,
And but a coward was he of his herte.
"An other Ayax Thelamonyous

There was also dyscrete and vertuous,
Wonder fayre and semely to beholde,
Whose heyr was black and vpward ay gan folde,
In compas wise rounde as any sphere,
And of musyke was there non his pere.
Having a voyce full of melodye,
Right well entuned as by Hermonye.
And was inventife for to counterfete,
Instrumentes aswell smal as grete,
In sundry wise longying to musyke.
And for all this yet had he good practicke
In armes eke, and was a noble knyght,
No man more orped nor hardyer for to fight.
Nor desyrous for to have vyctorye,
Devoyde of pompe, hatyng all vaynglorye,
All ydle laude spent and blowe in vayne."

"The auncient Historie and onely trewe and syncere Cronicle of the warres betwixt the Grecians and the Troyans," &c. fol. 1555. Book II. chap. 15.

(1) SCENE I.-THERSITES.] Hideous in person, impious and gross in speech, cowardly and vindictive by disposition, this remarkable character, by sheer intellectual vigour, seems to tower high above all the mere corporeal grace and strength by which he is surrounded; and the portrait is essentially Shakespeare's own creation, for the Thersites of Homer, on which we may suppose it founded, is nothing better than a vulgar, waspish railer, without a spark of wit or of intelligence to redeem his moral and physical obliquity :

"All sate, and audience gave; Thersites onely would speake all. A most disorderd store Of words, he foolishly powrd out; of which his mind held more Than it could manage; any thing, with which he could procure Laughter, he never could containe. He should have yet been

Thy tents are full of brasse, and dames; the choice of all are thine:

With whom, we must present thee first, when any townes resigne To our invasion. Wantst thou then (besides all this) more gold From Troyes knights, to redeeme their sonnes? whom, to be dearely sold,

I, er some other Greeke, must take? or wouldst thou yet againe, Force from some other Lord his prise; to sooth the lusts that raigne

In thy encroching appetite? it fits no Prince to be

A Prince of ill, and governe us; or leade our progenie

The stile of wrathfull worthily; he's soft, he's too remisse,
Or else Atrides, his had bene, thy last of injuries.'

Thus he the peoples Pastor chid; but straight stood up to him
Divine Ulysses; who with lookes, exceeding grave and grim,
This bitter checke gave: Ceasse, vaine foole, to vent thy railing
vaine

On kings thus, though it serve thee well; nor think thou canst restraine,

With that thy railing facultie, their wils in least degree,
For not a worse, of all this hoast, came with our king then thee
To Troys great siege.""-The Iliads of Homer, &c. Done according
to the Greeke, by Geo. Chapman, &c. Book II.

(2) SCENE II.-Enter CASSANDRA, raving.] Of this circumstance, we find no hint either in Chapman's Homer or in Chaucer; it was probably taken, as Steevens conjectured, from a passage in Lydgate's "Auncient Historie," &c. 1555:

"This was the noise and the pyteous crye
Of Cassandra that so dredefully
She gan to make aboute in every strete
Through ye towne," &c.

(3) SCENE III.-The death-tokens of it.] "Dr. Hodges, in his "Treatise on the Plague," says:-Spots of a dark complexion, usually called tokens, and looked on as the pledges or forewarnings of death, are minute and distinct blasts, which have their original from within, and rise up with a little pyramidal protuberance, the pestilential poison chiefly collected at their bases, tainting the neighbouring parts, and reaching to the surface.""-REID.

(1) SCENE II.-So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress.] The small bowl aimed at in the game of Bowling, it has before been mentioned, was occasionally termed the Mistress. See note (*), p. 722, Vol. II. Perhaps the best illustration of this popular amusement and its technical phraseology, as practised in our author's day, is that given in Quarles'"Emblems" (Emb. 10, b. 1.):

"Here's your right ground; wag gently o'er this black:
'Tis a short cast; y' are quickly at the jack.
Rub, rub an inch or two; two crowns to one

On this bowl's side; blow wind, 't is fairly thrown:
The next bowl's worse that comes; come, bowl away:
Mammon, you know the ground, untutor'd play :
Your last was gone, a yard of strength well spar'd
Had touch'd the block; your hand is still too hard.
Brave pastime, readers, to consume that day,
Which, without pastime, flies too swift away!
See how they labour; as if day and night

Were both too short to serve their loose delight:
See how their curved bodies wreath, and screw
Such antic shapes as Proteus never knew:
One raps an oath, another deals a curse;
He never better bowl'd; this never worse:
One rubs his itchless elbow, shrugs and laughs,
The other bends his beetle brows and chafes:
Sometimes they whoop, sometimes their Stygian cries
Send their black Santo's to the blushing skies:
Thus mingling humours in a mad confusion,
They make bad premises, and worse conclusion:
But where's a palm that fortune's hand allows
To bless the victor's honourable brows?
Come, reader, come; I'll light thine eye the way
To view the prize, the while the gamesters play:
Close by the jack, behold, jill Fortune stands
To wave the game: see in her partial hands
The glorious garland's held in open show,

To cheer the lads, and crown the conqu'ror's brow.
The world's the jack; the gamesters that contend,
Are Cupid, Mammon that judicious fiend,

That gives the ground, is Satan: and the bowls
Are sinful thoughts; the prize, a crown for fools.

Who breathes that bowls not? What bold tongue can say

Without a blush, he has not bowl'd to-day?

It is the trade of man, and ev'ry sinner

Has play'd his rubbers: every soul's a winner.

The vulgar proverb's crost, he hardly can

Be a good bowler and an honest man.

Good God! turn thou my Brazil thoughts anew;
New-sole my bowls, and make their bias true.
I'll cease to game, till fairer ground be given;
Nor wish to win, until the mark be Heav'n."

(2) SCENE II.-To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love.] Here, as in other passages where Troilus exhibits a presentiment of his lady's inconstancy, we can trace the influence of the "Troylus and Cryseyde:"

"But natheles, myn owene ladi bright!
Yit were it so that I wist utterly,

That I youre humble servaunt and your knyght
Were in youre herte yset so fermely,

As ye in myn, the whiche thing truly

Me lever were than this worldis tweyne,

Yit schulde I the better endure al my peyne."

(3) SCENE II.-As false as Cressid.] The protestations of the fickle beauty in the old poem are not less confident; compare the following:

"To that Cryseyde answerid right anoone,

And with a sigh sche seide, 'O herte dere!
The game, ywis, so ferforthe now is gone,
That furste schal Phebus falle from his spere,
And hevene egle be as the douves fere,
And every rock out of his place sterte,
Er Troylus out of Cryseydis herte.''

And her declaration subsequently :—
"For thylke day that I for cherisynge,
Or drede of fader, or of other wight,
Or for estat, delit, or for weddynge,

Be fals to yow, my Troylus, my knygthe,
Saturnes doughter Juno, thorugh hyre myghte,
As wood as Athamante do me dwelle
Eternaliche, in Stix, the put of Helle!

"And this, on every god celestial

I swere it yow, and ek on ech goddesse,
On every nymphe, and deyte infernal,
On satiry and fawny more and lesse,
That halve goddes ben of wildernesse;
And Attropos my thred of life to-breste,
If I be fals! Now trowe me if yow leste."

(4) SCENE III.-Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.] This appeal of Calchas to the Greeks recals the corresponding circumstance in Chaucer:

"Then seyd he thus, 'Lo! lordis myn, I was

A Troyan, as it is knowe, out of drede;
And, if that yow remembre, I am Calcas,
That altherferst yaf comfort to your nede,
And tolde wele how ye sholdyn spede;
For, dredeles, thurgh you, shall, in a stound,
Ben Troy ybrent, and drewyn doun to ground.

"And in what forme, and yn what maner wise
This toun to shent, and al your lust acheve,
Ye have, or this, wele herd me yow devise:
This knowyn ye, my lordis, as I leve;
And, for the Grekys weryn me so leve;
I come my self, in my proper persone,
To teche yow what you was best to done.
"Havyng unto my tresour, ne my rent,
Right no regard in respect of your ese;
Thus al my good I lost, and to yow went,
Wenyng in this, my lordis, yow to plese;
But al my losse ne doth me no dissese,-
I vouchesaaf, al so wisely have 1 joy,
For yow to lese al that I had in Troy,-

"Save of a doghter that I left, alas!
Slepyng at home, whan out of toun I stert.
O sterne, O cruel fadir, that I was!
How myght I in that have so hard an hert?
Alas! that I ne had her broght in her shert!
For sorow of which I wole not lyve to-morow,
But if ye, lordis, wole ruwe on my sorow.
"For by that cause I sawe no tyme or now
Her to delivere, iche holden have my pees;
But now or nevere, if it likith you,

I may her have, for that is douteles:

O, help and grace! among all this pres,
Rewith on this old caytif in distresse,

Thurgh yow seth I am brought in wrecchidnes!

(1) SCENE II.-A bugbear take him !] In the banter of Pandarus here, we have arch reminiscences of his prototype in "Troylus and Cryseyde: "

"Pandare, on morwe whiche that comen was
Unto his nece, gon hir faire to grete,
And seide, Al this night so reyned it, allas!
That al my drede is, that ye, nece swete,
Have litel leyser hade to slepe and mete:
Al night,' quod he, hath rain so do me wake,
That some of us, I trowe, her hedis ake.'

"And nigh he come and seid, How stant it now?
This Mey morwe, nece, how.kunne ye fare?
Cryseide answerde, 'Never the bet for yow!
Fox that ye ben, God yeve yow hertis care!
God helpe me so, yow causeth al this fare,
Trowe I,' quod sche, 'for alle youre wordis white;
O, ho so seeth you, knoweth you but alite!'"'

(2) SCENE IV.-To our own selves bend we our needful talk.] The parting of the lovers, if not more natural, is managed with more pathos and delicacy in the elder poet :

"Cryseyde, when she redy was to ride,

Ful sorwfully she sighte, and seyde, Allas!' But forth she mot for ought that may betide, And forth she rite ful sorwfully a pas ;

There is non other remedy in this cas.

What wonder is, though that hyre soore smerte, When she forgothe hire owne swete herte ?

"This Troylus, in gise of curteysie,

With hauke on hond, and with an huge route
Of knyghtes, rood. and dide hyre compaynye,
Passynge alle the valeye fer withoute;
And ferther wold han riden, out of doute,
Ful fayne, and wo was hym to gon so soone,
But tourne he moote, and it was eke to done.

"And right with that was Antenor ycome

Oute of the Grekes oste, and every wight
Was of it glad, and seyde he was welcome;
And Troylus, al nere his herte lighte,
He peyned hym with al his fulle myght
Hym to with holde of wepynge at the leeste,
And Antenor he kyste, and made feeste.

"And therwithal he moot his leve take,
And caste his eye upon hire pitously,
And nerre he rode, his cause for to make,
To take hire by the honde al sobrely:
And, Lorde! so she gan wepen tendrely!
And he ful soft and sleighely gan hire seye,
Now hold youre day, and do me not to deye.'

"With that his courser turned he about,
With face pale, and unto Dyomede
No worde he spak, ne non of al his route;
Of whiche the sone of Tideus tooke hede,
As he that konthe moore than the crede

In swiche a craft, and by the reyne hire hente,
And Troylus to Troye homwarde wente."

(3) SCENE V.-HECTOR and AJAX fight.] In Chapman's Homer, the combat is described with uncommon pomp and spirit:

"This said, in bright armes shone

The good strong Ajax: who, when all his warre attire was on, Marcht like the hugely figur'd Mars, when angry Jupiter,

With strength, on people proud of strength, sends him forth to inferre

Wreakfull contention; and comes on, with presence full of feare;
So th' Achive rampire, Telamon, did twixt the hoasts appeare:
Smil'd; yet of terrible aspect; on earth with ample pace,
He boldly stalkt, and shooke aloft his dart with deadly grace.
It did the Grecians good to see; but heartquakes shooke the

joynts

Of all the Troians; Hectors selfe felt thoughts, with horrid points,
Tempt his bold bosome; but he now, must make no counterflight;
Nor (with his honour) now refuse, that had provokt the fight.
Ajax came neare; and like a towre his shield his bosome bard;
The right side brasse, and seven oxe hides within it quilted hard.
Old Tychius the best currier, that did in Hyla dwell,

Did frame it for exceeding proofe, and wrought it wondrous well.
With this stood he to Hector close, and with this Brave began:
Now Hector thou shalt clearly know, thus meeting man to man,
What other leaders arme our hoast, besides great Thetis sonne:
Who, with his hardie Lions heart, hath armies overunne.
But he lies at our crookt-sternd fleet a Rivall with our king
In height of spirit: yet to Troy, he many knights did bring,
Coequall with Eacides; all able to sustaine

All thy bold challenge can import: begin then, words are vaine.
The Helme-grac't Hector answerd him: Renowned Telamon,
Prince of the souldiers came from Greece; assay not me like one,
Yong and immartiall, with great words, as to an Amazon dame;
I have the habit of all fights; and know the bloudie frame
Of every slaughter: I well know the ready right hand charge,

I know the left, and every away, of my securefull targe;

I triumph in the crueltie of fixed combat fight,

And manage horse to all designes; I think then with good right,
I may be confident as farre as this thy challenge goes,
Without being taxed with a vaunt, borne out with emptie showes
But (being a souldier so renownd) I will not worke on thee,
With least advantage of that skill, I know doth strengthen me;
And so with privitie of sleight, winne that for which I strive:
But at thy best (even open strength) if my endevours thrive.
Thus sent he his long Javelin forth; it strooke his foes huge

shield,

Neere to the upper skirt of brasse, which was the eighth it held. Sixe folds th' untamed dart strooke through, and in the seventh tough hide

The point was checkt; then Ajax threw his angry lance did glide

Quite through his bright orbicular targe, his curace, shirt of maile;
And did his manly stomachs mouth with dangerous taint assaile-
But in the bowing of himselfe, black death too short did strike.
Then both to pluck their Javelins forth, encountred Lion-like;
Whose bloudie violence is increast, by that raw food they eate:
Or Bores, whose strength, wilde nourishment, doth make so won-
drous great.

Againe Priamides did wound, in midst, his shield of brasse,
Yet pierc't not through the upper plate, the head reflected was:
But Ajax (following his Lance) smote through his target quite,
And stayd bold Hector rushing in; the Lance held way outright,
And hurt his necke; out gusht the bloud; yet Hector ceast not so,
But in his strong hand tooke a Flint (as he did backwards go)
Blacke, sharpe and big, layd in the field: the sevenfold targe it
smit,

Full on the bosse; and round about the brasse did ring with it.
But Ajax a farre greater stone lift up, and (wreathing round
With all his bodie layd to it) he sent it forth to wound,
And gave unmeasur'd force to it; the round stone broke within
His rundled target: his lov'd knees to languish did begin;
And he leand, stretcht out on his shield; but Phoebus raisd him

(1) SCENE II.-Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.] Steevens cites several passages from our old writers to show that it was customary for warriors to wear a lady's sleeve for a favour; the sleeve which Cressida bestows on Diomed, however, was that she had received from Troilus at their parting. Malone supposes it to have been such a one as was formerly used at tournaments :-" Also the deepe smocke sleive, which the Irish women use, they say, was old Spanish, and is used yet in Barbary; and yet that should seeme rather to be an old English fashion, for in armory the fashion of the manche, which is given in armes by many, being indeed nothing else but a sleive, is fashioned much like to that sleive."-SPENSER'S View of Ireland, p. 43, edit. 1633.

(2) SCENE II.-Rather think this not Cressid.] The grief of Troylus for his "light o' love" is beautifully told by the elder poet :

"Than spak he thus:-O, lady myn Cryseyde,

Wher is youre feith, and wher is youre beheste?
Wher is youre love, wher is youre trouth?' he seyde,
'Of Diomede have ye now al this feste!
Allas! I wold han trowed at the leste,
That, syn ye hold in trouthe to me stonde,
That ye thus holde han holden me in honde.

"Who shal nowe trowe on any other mo?
Allas! I nevere wolde han wende, or this,
That ye, Cryseide, koude han chaunged so,
Ne but I hadde agilt, and don amys;
So cruel wende I nought youre herte, ywis,
To sle me thus! allas! youre name of trouthe
Is now fordon, and that is al my routhe.

"Was there non other broche yow liste lete
To feffe with youre newe love,' quod he,
'But thilke broche that I, with teris wete,

You yaf, as for a remembraunce of me?
None other cause, allas! ne hadde ye,
But for despit; and ek for that ye mente
Al outrely to shewen youre entente.

"Thorwgh which I se, that clene out of youre minde Ye han me caste, and ne kan nor may

For al this world withinne myn herte fynde,
To unloven yow a quarter of a day;
In cursed tyme I borne was, walawey!
That yow, that dothe me al this wo endure,
Yet love I best of any creature.""

(3) SCENE IX. And hangs his shield behind him.] The circumstance of Hector being overpowered by Achilles and his followers when unarmed, the author is believed to have taken from Lydgate's poem :—

"And in this while a grekishe kinge he mette,
Were it of hap or of adventure,

The which in sothe on his cote armure
Embrouded had full many ryche stone,
That gave a lyght, when the sonne shone,
Full bryght and cleare, that joye was to sene,
For Perles white and Emerawdes grene
Full many one were therin sette.-

Of whose arraye when Hector taketh hede,
Towardes him fast gan him drawe.
And fyrst I fynde how he hath hym slawe,
And after that by force of his manheade,
He hente him up afore him on his stede,
And fast gan wyth him for to ryde
From the wardes a lytell out of syde,
At good leyser playnly, if he maye,
To spoyle him of his ryche arraye.-
On horsebacke out whan he him ladde,
Reklesly the storye maketh mynde,
He caste his shelde at his backe behynde,
To welde him selfe at more lyberte,--
So that hys brest disarmed was and bare."

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