Ene. Good morrow, all.

[Exit with Servant. 50

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 best,
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 pleased to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more;
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

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 but commend what we intend to sell.
Here lies our way.

59. palating, perceiving.

[Exeunt.

62. piece, creature.

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70

SCENE II. The same.

Court of Pandarus'

house.

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.

Tro.

Trouble him not;

To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses

As infants' empty of all thought!

Cres.

Good morrow, then.

Are you a-weary of me?

Tro. I prithee now, to bed.

Cres.

Tro. O Cressida ! but that the busy day, Waked by the lark, hath roused the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.

Cres.

Night hath been too brief. Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights

she stays

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.

You men will never tarry.

Prithee, tarry:

O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off,

10

And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's

Pan. [Within] What, 's all the doors open here? Tro. It is your uncle.

Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking :

I shall have such a life!

Enter PANDArus.

Pan. How now, how now! how go maidenheads? Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid?

Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle !

You bring me to do, and then you flout me too. 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! ah, poor capocchia! hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! Cres. Did not I tell you? Would he were

knock'd i' the head!

[Knocking within. 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!

20

30

Cres. Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing. [Knocking within. 40 How earnestly they knock! Pray you, come in : I would not for half Troy have you seen here.

[Exeunt Troilus and Cressida. Pan. Who's there? what's the matter? will

33. capocchia, fool; a feminine form of Ital. capocchio, dolt,

simpleton, fool. In both Q and Ff it is mutilated to chipochia.

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? 'tis more than I know, I'll be sworn: for my own párt, I came in late. What should he do here?

Ene. Who!-nay, then come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you're 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.

Re-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.

Ene.

Troy :

Is it so concluded?
By Priam and the general state of

69. state, council, assembled chiefs.

50

60

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!

Re-enter CRESSIDA.

Cres. How now! what's the matter? who 8 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: 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.

74. secrets (trisyllabic: sec-rets). The Q here introduces a

70

90

burlesque touch: the secrets of neighbor Pandar.'