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Ulyff. All's done, my lord.

Troi. It is.

Ulyff. Why ftay we then?

Troi. To make a recordation to my foul,
Of every syllable that here was spoke:
But if I tell how these two did co-act,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
An esperance fo obftinately strong,
That doth invert th' atteft of eyes
As if thofe organs had deceptious functions,
Created only to calumniate.

Was Creffid here?..

Ulyff. I cannot conjure, Trojan.

Troi. She was not, fure.

Uly. Moft fure she was.

and ears;

Troi. Why, my negation hath no tafte of madness. Uly. Nor mine, my lord: Creffid was here but now. Troi. Let it not be believ'd, for woman-hood! Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage To ftubborn criticks, apt, without a theme For depravation, to fquare all the fex

By Creffid's rule. Rather think this not Creffid.
Uly. What hath fhe done, Prince, that can foil
our mothers?

Troi. Nothing at all, unless that this was fhe.
Ther. Will he fwagger himfelf out of his eyes?
Troi. This fhe? no, this is Diomede's Creffida.
If beauty have a foul, this is not fhe:

If fouls guide vows, if vows are fanctimony,
If fanctimony be the Gods' delight,
If there be rule in unity itself,

This is not fhe. O madness of difcourfe!
That cause sets up with and against thyself!
Bi-fold authority! where reafon can revolt
Without perdition, and lofs affume all reafon
Without revolt. This is, and is not, Creffid.
Within my foul there doth commence a fight

Of

Of this frange nature, that a thing infeparate
Divides far wider than the sky and earth;
And yet the fpacious breadth of this divifion.
Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle
As flight Arachne's broken woof to enter.
Inftance, O inftance, ftrong as Pluto's gates!
Creffid is mine, tied with the bonds of heav'n;
Inftance, O inftance, ftrong as heav'n itself!
The bonds of heav'n are flip'd, diffolv`d and loos`d:
And with another knot five-finger-tied,

The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, fcraps, the bits, and greafy reliques
Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomede.
Uly. My worthy Troilus be half attach'd

With that which here his paffion doth express?
Troi. Ay, Greek, and that fhall be divulged well;
In characters, as red as Mars his heart

Inflam'd with Venus,-ne'er did young man fancy
With fo eternal, and so fix'd a foul-

Hark, Greek, as much as I do Creffid love,
So much by weight hate I her Diomede.
That fleeve is mine, that he'll bear in his helm:
Were it a cask compos'd by Vulcan's skill,
My fword should bite it: not the dreadful spout,
Which ship-men do the hurricano call,
Conftring'd in mass by the almighty Sun,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
In his descent, than fhall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomede.

Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy.

Troi. O Creffid! O falfe Creffid! falfe, falfe, falfe! Let all untruths ftand by thy ftained name,

And they'll feem glorious.

Uly. O, contain yourself:

Your paffion draws ears hither.

Enter Eneas.

Ene. I have been feeking you this hour, my lord,

Hedor

Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy.

Ajax, your guard, ftays to conduct you home.
Troi. Have with you, Prince; my courteous lord,

adieu.

Farewel, revolted fair: and, Diomede,

Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head!
Uly. I'll bring you to the gates.

Troi. Accept diftracted thanks.

[Exeunt Troilus, Eneas, and Ulyffes.

Ther. 'Would, I could meet that rogue Diomede, I would croak like a raven: I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore: the parrot will do no more for an almond, than he for a commodious drab : lechery, lechery, ftill wars and lechery, nothing elfe holds fashion. A burning devil take them!

[Exit.

[blocks in formation]

And.

Changes to the Palace of Troy.
Enter Hector and Andromache.

W

HEN was my lord fo much ungently temper'd

To flop his ears againft admonishment?

Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.

Het. You train me to offend you; get you gone. By all the everlafting Gods, I'll go.

And. My dreams will, fure, prove ominous to-day. Het. No more, I fay.

Enter Caffandra.

Caf. Where is my brother Hector?

And. Here, fifter, arm'd, and bloody in intent:
Confort with me in loud and dear petition;
Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt
Of bloody turbulence; and this whole night

Hath nothing been but fhapes and forms of flaughter.

Caf.

Caf. O, 'tis true.

Het. Ho! bid my trumpet found.

Caf. No notes of fally, for the heav'ns,fweet brother. Het. Be gone, I fay: the Gods have heard me fwear.

Caf. The Gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd Than fpotted livers in the facrifice.

And. O! be perfuaded, do not count it holy
To hurt by being juft; it were as lawful

For us to count we give what's gain'd by thefts,
And rob in the behalf of charity.

Caf. It is the purpofe that makes ftrong the vow;
But vows to every purpose must not hold:
Unarm, fweet Hector.

Het. Hold you still, I fay;

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate;
Life every man holds dear, but the brave man
Holds honour far more precious dear than life.

Enter Troilus.

How now, young man; mean'ft thou to fight to-day?
And. Caffandra, call my father to perfuade.
[Exit Caffandra.
Het. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness,
I am to-day i' th' vein of chivalry:

[youth:
Let grow thy finews till their knots be ftrong,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.
Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
I'll ftand, to-day, for thee, and me, and Troy.

Troi. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you; Which better fits a lion, than a man.

Hed. What vice is this? good Troilus, chide me for it.

Troi. When many times the catiff Grecians fall,

*

Ev'n

When many times the captive Grecians fall,] This Reading fupposes Hector infulting over his Captives, which is not Troilus's Mean

Ev'n in the fan and wind of your fair fword,

You bid them rife, and live.

Hect. O, 'tis fair play.

Troi. Fools play, by Heaven, Hector.
Hed. How now? how now?

Troi. For love of all the Gods,

Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mothers;
And when we have our armour buckled on,
The venom'd vengeance ride upon, our fwords,
Spur them to rueful work, rein them from ruth.
Hect. Fie, favage, fie!

Troi. Hector, thus 'tis in wars.

Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day.
Troi. Who fhould with-hold me ?

Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,

Their eyes o'er-galled with recourse of tears;
Nor you, my brother, with your true fword drawn
Oppos'd to hinder me, fhould ftop my way,
But by my ruin.

Caf.

SCENE VII.

Enter Priam and Caffandra.

AY hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast:
He is thy crutch; now if thou lofe thy Stay,

Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,
Fall all together.

Priam. Hector, come, go back:

Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath had vifions;
Caffandra doth foresee; and I myself

Am, like a prophet, fuddenly enrapt
To tell thee, that this day is ominous:
Therefore come back.

ing: who is here speaking of Hector's Actions in the Field. With out doubt Shakespear wrote,

When many times the Caitiff Grecians fall.

Hea.

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