Enter ENEAS.

ENE. Good-morrow, lord, good-morrow.

PAN. Who's there? my lord Eneas? 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? 't is more than I know, I'll be sworn: For my own part, I came in late: What should he do here?

ENE. Who!-nay, then:-Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere y' are '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.

As PANDARUS is going out, 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.

Is it concluded so?

ENE. By Priam, and the general state of Troy: 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.

The devil
A plague

[Exeunt TROILUS and ENEAS. PAN. Is 't possible? no sooner got but lost? take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. upon Antenor! I would they had broke 's neck.

Enter CRESSIDA.

CRES. How now? what's the matter? who 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; 't will be his death; 't will be his bane; he cannot bear it.

CRES. O you immortal gods!—I will not go.

PAN. Thou must.

CRES. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity;

No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus.—O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremity you can;

But the strong base and building of my love

Is as the very centre of the earth,

Drawing all things to it.-I will go in and weep;—

PAN. Do, do.

CRES. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks; Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart

With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—The same. Before Pandarus' House.

Enter PARIS, TROILUS, ENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES.

PAR. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd

Of her delivery to this valiant Greek

Comes fast upon:-Good my brother Troilus, the lady what she is to do,

Tell you

And haste her to the purpose.

TRO.

Walk in to her house;

I'll bring her to the Grecian presently:

And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there offering to it his own heart.
PAR. I know what 't is to love;

And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help!—
you walk in, my

Please

lords.

[Exit.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The same. A Room in Pandarus' House.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.

PAN. Be moderate, be moderate.

CRES. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And no less in a sense as strong as that
Which causeth it: How can I moderate it?
If I could temporise 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 cross:
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter TROILUS.

PAN. Here, here, here he comes, a sweet duck!

CRES. O Troilus! Troilus!

PAN. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too: O heart,-as the goodly saying is,—

O heart, heavy heart,

Why sigh'st thou without breaking?

where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy smart,

By friendship, nor by speaking.

There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing,

for we may live to have need of such a verse: we see it, we

TRO. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity, That the blest gods,-as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which

Cold lips blow to their deities,

take thee from me.

CRES. Have the gods envy?

PAN. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 't is too plain a case.

CRES. And is it true that I must go from Troy?
TRO. A hateful truth.

CRES.

What, and from Troilus too?

Is 't possible?

TRO. From Troy and Troilus.
CRES.

TRO. And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath:
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu;

And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasting with the salt of broken tears.

ENE. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready?

TRO. Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the Genius so Cries, "Come!" to him that instantly must die.-

Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.

PAN. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my

heart will be blown up by the root.

CRES. I must then to the Grecians?
TRO.

[Exit PANDARUS.

No remedy.

CRES. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?

TRO. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of heart,

CRES. I true! how now? what wicked deem is this?
TRO. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us:

I speak not," be thou true," as fearing thee;
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart:
But be thou true," say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation; be thou true,
And I will see thee.

CRES. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers

As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true.

TRO. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve. CRES. And you this glove. When shall I see you?

TRO. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,

To give thee nightly visitation.

But yet, be true.

CRES.

O heavens!-be true, again?

TRO. Hear why I speak it, love;

The Grecian youths are full of quality;

Their loving well compos'd with gift of nature,
Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise;
How novelties may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy

(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin)
Makes me afraid.

CRES.

O heavens! you love me not.

TRO. Die I a villain then!

In this I do not call your faith in question,
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,

To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:
But I can tell, that in each grace of these

There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,
That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.
CRES. Do you think I will?

TRO. NO.

But something may be done that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,