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[One knocks.

haft not flept to-night? would he not (a naughty man) let it fleep? a bug-bear take him! Cre. Did I not tell you? -would he were knock'd o'th' head who's that at door?

good uncle, go and fee. My Lord, come you again into my chamber: you smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.

Troi. Ha, ha!

Cre. Come, you are deceived, I think of no fuch thing. How earnestly they knock-pray you come in. [Knock. I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt. Pan. Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? how now? what's the matter?

SCENE III.

Enter Æneas.

Ene. Good-morrow, Lord, good-morrow. Pan. Who's there? my Lord Eneas? by my troth, I knew you not; what news with you fo early? Ene. Is not Prince Troilus here?

Pan. Here! what fhould he do here?

Ene. Come, he is here, my Lord, do not deny him: It doth import him much to fpeak with me.

Pan. Is he here, fay you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be fworn; for my own part, I came in late: what should he do here?

:

Ene. Pho!- nay, then come, come, you'll do him wrong, ere y'are aware: you'll be fo 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.

Troi. How now, what's the matter?

Ene. My Lord, I fcarce have leifure to falute you, My matter is fo harfh: there is at hand

Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomede, and our Antenor
Deliver❜d to us, and for him forthwith,

Ere

Ere the first facrifice, within this hour,

We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The Lady Crefida.

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

Troi. How my atchievements mock me!

I will go meet them; and (my Lord Æneas)
We met by chance, you did not find me here.

[tures

[Exeunt.

Ene. Good, good, my Lord; the "fecreteft of naHave not more gift in taciturnity.

SCENE IV.

Enter Creffida to Pandarus.

Pan. Is't poffible? no fooner got, but loft? the devil take Antenor! 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 figh you fo profoundly? where's my Lord? gone! tell me, fweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pan. Would I were as deep under the earth, as I am above!

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

Pan. Pr'ythee get thee in; would thou had'st he'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 befeech you, what's the matter?

Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be thou art chang'd for Antenor; thou muft go to thy father, and be gone from Troilus: 'twill 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.

4 Is it concluded fo?

5 fecrets of Nature or fecret'ft things of Nature

I know

I know no touch of confanguinity:

No kin, no love, no blood, no foul fo near me,
As the fweet Troilus. O you Gods divine!
Make Creffid's name the very crown of falfhood,
If ever the leave Troilus. Time and death,
Do to this body what extreams you can;
But the ftrong bafe and building of my
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all to it. I'll go in and weep,
Pan. Do, do.

love

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

SCENE V.

Before Pandarus's House.

Enter Paris, Troilus, Eneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes.

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

Comes faft upon us: good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the Lady what fhe is to do,
And hafte her to the purpose.

Troi. Walk into her houfe:

I'll bring her to the Grecian prefently;
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus
A prieft, there offering to it his heart.
Par. I know what 'tis to love,

And would, as I fhall pity, I could help!
Please you walk in, my Lords.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

Pan.

SCENE VI.

An Apartment in Pandarus's House.

Enter Pandarus and Creffida.

BE moderate, be moderate.

Cre. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect that I tafte,
And in its fenfe is no lefs ftrong, than that
Which caufeth 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 drofs,

Enter Troilus.

No more my grief, in fuch a precious lofs.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes, -a, fweet duck!

Cre. O Troilus, Troilus!

[too :

Pan. What a pair of fpectacles is here! let me embrace O heart, (as the goodly faying is ;)

O heart, O heavy beart,

Why figh'st thou without breaking?

where he answers again;

Because thou can'ft not eafe thy fmart,

By friendship, nor by speaking.

There was never a truer rhyme. Let us caft away nothing, for we may live to have need of fuch a verfe; we fee it, we fee it. How now, lambs?

Troi. Creffid, I love thee in fo ftrange a purity,
That the bleft 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.

Pan. Ay, ay, 'tis too plain a cafe.

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

Troi. A hateful truth.

Cre. What, and from Troilus too?

Troi. From Troy, and Troilus.
Cre. Is it poffible?

Troi. And fuddenly: while injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, juftles roughly by
All time of paufe, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoyndure, forcibly prevents

Our lock'd embraces, ftrangles our dear vows,
Ev'n in the birth of our own labouring breath.
We two, that with fo many thousand fighs
Each other bought, muft poorly fell our felves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious Time now with a robber's hafte
Crams his rich thiev'ry up he knows not how.
As many farewels as be ftars in heav'n,
With diftin&t breath and confign'd kiffes to them,
He fumbles up all in one loose adieu;

And fcants us with a fingle famish'd kiss,
Diftafted with the falt of broken tears.

Ene. [Within.] My Lord, is the Lady ready? Troi. Hark, you are call'd. Some fay, the Genius fo Cries, come, to him that inftantly muft die.

Bid them have patience; fhe fhall come anon.

Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root. [Exit Pandarus. Cre. I muft then to the Grecians?

Troi. No remedy.

Cre. A woeful Creffid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When fhall we see again?

Troi. Hear me, my love; be thou but true of heartCre. I true? how now? what wicked deem is this? Troi. Nay, we must use expoftulation kindly,

For it is parting from us :———

I fpeak not be thou true, as fearing thee:
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,

That'

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