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Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together.

Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.

Enter Nestor.

My love with words and errors still she feeds; But edities another with her deeds. [Exe. severally. Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles; SCENE IV.-Between Troy and the Grecian And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.camp. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Thersites. There is a thousand Hectors in the field: Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another; Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, P'll go look on. That dissembling abominable var- And there lacks work; anon, he's there afoot, let, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doating fool- And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls ish young knave's sleeve of Troy there, in his helm: Before the belching whale; then is he yonder, I would fain see them meet; that that same young And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send Fall down before him, like the mower's swath: that Greekish whoremaster villain, with the sleeve, Here, there, and every where, he leaves, and takes, back to the dissembling luxurious drab, on a sleeve- Dexterity so obeying appetite,

less errand. O'the other side, The policy of those That what he will, he does; and does so much, crafty swearing rascals,-that stale old mouse-eaten That proof is call'd impossibility.

Enter Ulysses.

Ulyss. O courage, courage, princes! great
Achilles

dry cheese, Nestor; and that same dog-fox, Ulysses, is not proved worth a blackberry:-They set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles: and now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance: will not arm to-day: whereupon the Grecians begin Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood, to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill Together with his mangled Myrmidons, That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come opinion. Soft! here come sleeve, and t'other. to him,

Enter Diomedes, Troilus following.

Tro. Fly not; for, should'st thou take the river
Styx,

I would swini after.

Dio.

Thou dost miscall retire:

I do not fly; but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude:
Have at thee!

Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian!-now for thy
whore, Trojan !-now the sleeve, now the sleeve!
[Exeunt Troilus and Diomedes, fighting.
Enter Hector.

Hec. What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hector's match?

Art thou of blood, and honour?

Ther. No, no:-I am rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very filthy rogue.

Hert. I do believe thee;-live.

[Exit.

Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me;
But a plague break thy neck, for frighting me!
What's become of the wenching rogues? I think,
they have swallowed one another: I would laugh
at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself.
I'll seek them.
[Exit.

SCENE V.-The same. Enter Diomedes and a
Servant.

Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse;
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid:
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty;
Tell her, I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.
Serv.

I go, my lord.
[Exit Servant.

Enter Agamemnon.
Agam. Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamus
Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner;

And stands colussus-wise, waving his beam,'
Upon the pashed' corses of the kings
Epistrophus and Cedius: Polixenes is slain;
Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruised: the dreadful Sagittary
(2) Bruised, crushed.
(4) Killer.

(1) Lance.
(3) Shoal of fish.

VOL. II.

Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it,
Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day
Mad and fantastic execution;

Engaging and redeeming of himself,
With such a careless force, and forceless care,
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
Bade him win all.

Enter Ajax.

[Exit. Ay, there, there.

Ajax. Troilus! thou coward Troilus!
Dio.
Nest. So, so, we draw together.
Enter Achilles.

Achil.
Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face;
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-Another part of the field. Enter
Ajax.

Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy
head!

Enter Diomedes.
Dio. Troilus, I say! where's Troilus!
Ajax.
What would'st thou?

Dio. I would correct him.
Ajax. Were I the general, thou should'st have
my office,

Ere that correction:-Troilus, I say! what, Troilus!
Enter Troilus.

Tro. O traitor Diomed!-turn thy false face, thou
traitor,

And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse!
Dio. Ha! art thou there?

Ajax. I'll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed.
Dio. He is my prize, I will not look upon.
Tro. Come both, you cogging Greeks; have at
you both.
[Exeunt, fighting.

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Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.

Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set.
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Even with the veil and dark'ning of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
Hect. I am unarm'd: forego this vantage, Greek,
Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I
seek.
[Hector falls.
So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down;
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.-
On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain,
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.

A retreat sounded.
Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part.
Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my

lord.

Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the
earth,
And, sticklers like, the armies separate.
My half-supp'd sword, that frankly" would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.
[Sheaths his sword.

Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt.
SCENE X.-The same. Enter Agamemnon,
Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomedes, and others,
marching. Shouts within.

Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that?
Nest.

[Within.]

Peace, drums.

Achilles !

Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles !
Dio. The bruit is-Hector's slain, and by Achilles.
Great Hector was as good a man as he.
Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be;

Agam. March patiently along:-Let one be sent
To pray Achilles see us at our tent.-

If in his death the gods have us befriended,
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.
[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE VIII.-The same. Enter Menelaus SCENE XI.-Another part of the field. Enter

and Paris, fighting: then Thersites. Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double-henned sparrow! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game :-'ware horns, ho! [Exeunt Paris and Menelaus. Enter Margarelon.

Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.
Ther. What art thou?

Mar. A bastard son of Priam's.

Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards: am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment: Farewell, bastard. Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [Exeunt. SCENE IX.—Another part of the field. Hector.

Eneas and Trojans.

Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field:
Never go home; here starve we out the night.
Enter Troilus.

Tro. Hector is slain.
All.
Hector ?-the gods forbid
Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse'
tail,
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.-
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed'
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy !
I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on!

I

Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so:
do not speak of flight, of fear, of death;
But dare all imminence, that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone!
Enter Let him, that will a screech-owl aye3 be call'
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?
Go in to Troy, and say there-Hector's dead:
There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But march, away:
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay vet ;-You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight1o upon our Phrygian plains,

Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath:
Lest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death!
Puts off his helmet, and hangs his shield
behind him.

(3) Burst.

(1) Prevail over. (2) Care.
(4) Employ. (5) Take not this advantage.
6) An arbitrator at athletic games.

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TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you!—And thou,
siz'd coward!

173

As many as be here of panders' hall,
great-Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall:
Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade,
Some two months hence my will shall here be made.
It should be now, but that my fear is this,-
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss:
Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases;
And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases.

No space of earth shall sunder our two hates;
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy !-with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward wo.
[Exeunt Æneas and Trojans.
As Troilus is going out, enter from the other side,
Pandarus.

Pan. But hear you, hear you!

[Exit.

Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy' and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! This play is more correctly written than most of [Exit Troilus. Shakspeare's compositions, but it is not one of those Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones! O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent in which either the extent of his views or elevation despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are of his fancy is fully displayed. As the story aboundyou set a' work, and how ill requited! Why should ed with materials, he has exerted little invention; our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so but he has diversified his characters with great loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it?-variety, and preserved them with great exactness.

Let me see:—

Eull merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting:
And being once subdued in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.-
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted
cloths.'

(1) Ignominy.

(2) Ever.

His vicious characters disgust, but cannot corrupt, for both Cressida and Pandarus are detested and contemned. The comic characters seem to have been the favourites of the writer: they are of the superficial kind, and exhibit more of manners, than nature; but they are copiously filled, and powerfully impressed. Shakspeare has in his story followed, for the greater part, the old book of Caxton, which was then very popular; but the character of Thersites, of which it makes no mention, is a proof lished his version of Homer.

(3) Canvass hangings for rooms, painted with that this play was written after Chapman had pub mblems and mottoes.

JOHNSON.

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Pain.

Poet.

I am glad you are well.

Poet. I have not seen you long; How goes the world?

Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows.

Poet. Ay, that's well known: But what particular rarity? what strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant. Pain. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller. Mer. O, 'tis a worthy 'ord! Jew.

Nay, that's most fix'd. Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd,' as it were,

To an untirable and continuate2 goodness:
He passes.
Jew.

I have a jewel here.

Mer. O, pray let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir?
Jew. If he will touch the estimate: But, for that-
Poet. When we for recompense have prais'd the
vile,

It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good."
Mer.

Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the flint
Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
Pain. A picture, sir.-And when comes your

book forth?

Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let's see your piece.

Pain.

"Tis a good piece.

Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. Pain. Indifferent.

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I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
dedi-Infests one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,

"Tis a good form. [Looking at the jewel. Jew. And rich: here is a water, look you. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some cation To the great lord Poet.

A thing slipp'd idly from me.

(1) Inured by constant practice.

(2) For continual.

(4) As soon as my book has been presented to Timon.

(5) i. e. The contest of art with nature. (6) My design does not stop at any particular

(3) i. e. Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds. character.

Leaving no track behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet.

Tim. Commend me to him. I will send his ran

som;

I'll unbolt' to you. And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me:
'Tis not enongh to help the feeble up,
But to support nim after.-Fare you well.
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! [Ex.
Enter an old Athenian.

You see how all conditions, how all minds
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality,) tender down
Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flat-
terer,2

To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.

Pain.
I saw them speak together.
Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill,
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o'the

mount

Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
One do I personate of lord Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.

Pain.

'Tis conceiv'd to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckon'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount To climb his happiness, would be well express'd In our condition.

Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on: All those which were his fellows but of late (Some better than his value,) on the moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,

Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink the free air.

Pain.

Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood,

Spurns down her late-belov'd, all his dependants, Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Pain. 'Tis common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
To show lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended; the
Servant of Ventidius talking with him.
Tim.
Imprison'd is he, say you?
Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his
debt;

His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Your honourable letter he desires

To those have shut him up; which failing to him,
Periods his comfort.

Tim.

I do know him

Noble Ventidius! Well; I am not of that feather, to shake off My friend when he must need me. A gentleman, that well deserves a help, Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free, him.

Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.

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Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.

Tim.
Freely, good father.
Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: what of him?

Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.

Tim. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius!

Enter Lucilius.

Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.
Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy

creature,

By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift:
And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd,
Than one which holds a trencher.

Tim.
Well; what further?
Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else,
On whom I may confer what I have got:
The maid is fair, o'the youngest for a bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest cost,
In qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;
Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim.

The man is honest.

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Old Ath. She is young, and apt:
Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.

Tim. [To Lucilius.] Love you the maid?
Luc. Ay, my good ford, and she accepts of it.
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be
missing,

I call the gods to witness, I will choose
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.

Tim.
How shall she be endow'd,
If she be mated with an equal husband?
Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in fu-
ture, all.

Tim. This gentlenian of mine hath served me long;

To build his fortune, I will strain a little,
For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.

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Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.

Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may That state of fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you!

[Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon Go not away.-What have you there, my friend?

(3) To advance their conditions of life.
(4) Whisperings of officious servility.
(5) Inhale. (6) i. e. Inferior spectators.

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