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

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

This is not she. O madness of difcourfe!
That cause set'st up with and against thyself!
Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt
Without perdition, and lofs affume all reason
Without revolt. This is, and is not, Creffid.
Within my foul there doth commence a fight
Of this ftrange nature, that a thing infeparate
Divides far wider than the fky and earth;
And yet the spacious breadth of this divifion
Admits no orifice for a point, as fubtle
As flight Arachne's broken woof to enter.
Inftance, O inftance, ftrong as Pluto's gates!
Crefid is mine, tied with the bonds of heav'n;
Instance, 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. May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
With that which here his paffion does exprefs?

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 fhould bite it: not the dreadful spout,
Which fhip-men do the hurricano call,
Conftring'd in mass by the almighty Sun,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear

In his defcent, than fhall my prompted fword
Falling on Diomede.

Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy.

Troi. O Crefid! 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 Æneas.

Ene. I have been feeking you this hour, my Lord, Hetor, 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 faft, and wear a caftle on thy head!

Ulf. I'll bring you to the gates.

Troi. Accept diftracted thanks.

[Exeunt Troilus, Eneas, and Ulyfies. 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: letchery, letchery, fill wars and letchery, nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil take them!

And.

[Exit. SCENE changes to the Palace of Troy.

W

Enter Hector and Andromache.

7 HEN was my Lord fo much ungently temper'd, To ftop his ears against admonishment? Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.

Hect. You train me to offend you; get you gone.
By all t everlafting Gods, I'll go.

And. My dreams will, fure, prove ominous to-day.
Hect. No more, I say.

Enter Caffandra.

Caf. Where is my brother Hector?

VOL. VII.

S

And.

And. Here, fiiter, 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 shapes and forms of flaughter.
Caf. O, 'tis true.

Hect. Ho! bid my trumpet found.

Caf. No notes of fally, for the heav'ns, sweet brother. Het. Be gone, I fay: the Gods have heard me swear. 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 purpose that makes strong the vow;
But vows to every purpose muft not hold ;
Unarm, fweet Hector.

Helt. Hold you ftill, 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. Coffandra, call my father to perfuade.
[Exit Caffandra.
Het. No, 'faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth:

I am to-day i'th' vein of chivalry:

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.

Hect. What vice is that? good Troilus, chide me for it. Troi. When many times the captive Grecians fall, Ev'n in the fan and wind of your fair fword,

You bid them rife, and live.

Het.

Hect. O, 'tis fair play.

Troi. Fool's play, by Heaven, Hector.
Heft. 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. Fy, favage, fy!

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, should stop my way,
But by my ruin.

Enter Priam and Caffandra.

Caf. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him faft:
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.

Het. Eneas is a-field,

And I do ftand engag'd to many Greeks,
Ev'n in the faith of valour, to appear
This morning to them.

Priam. But thou shalt not go.

Het. I must not break my faith:

You know me dutiful, therefore, dear Sir,
Let me not shame refpect; but give me leave
To take that courfe by your confent and voice,

S 2

Which

Which you do here forbid me, Royal Priam.
Caf. O, Priam, yield not to him.
ind. Do not, dear father.

Heat. Andromache, I am offended with you.

Upon the love you bear me, get you in. [Exit Androm. Troi. This foolish, dreaming, fuperftitious girl

Makes all these bodements.

Caf. O farewel, dear Hector:

Look, how thou dy'ft; look, how thy eyes turn pale!
Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents!
Hark, how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out;
How poor Andromache fhrills her dolour forth!
Behold, diftraction, frenzy and amazement,
Like witlefs anticks, one another meet,

And all cry, Hector, Hector's dead! O Hedor!
Trei. Away! Away!.

Caf. Farewel: yet, foft: Hector, I take my leave; Thou do'ft thyfelf and all our Troy deceive.

[Exite Het. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim: Go in and cheer the town, we'll forth and fight; Do deeds worth praife, and tell you them at night. Priam. Farewel: the Gods with fafety stand about thee! [Alarm. Troi. They're at it, hark: proud Diomede, believe, I come to lofe my arm, or win my fleeve.

Enter Pandarus.

Pan. Do you hear, my Lord? do you hear?
Troi. What now?

Pan. Here's a letter come from yond poor girl.
Troi. Let me read.

Pan. A whorefon ptifick, a whorefon rafcally ptifick so troubles me; and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing and what another, that I shall leave you one o' thefe days; and I have a rheum in mine eyes too, and fuch an ach in my bones that unless a man were curit, I'cannot tell what to think on't. What fays fhe, there? Troi. Words, words, meer words; no matter from the heart:

Th' effect doth operate another way. [Tearing the letter.

Go