IN Troy there lyes the scene: from Isles of Greece
The Princes orgillous, their bigh blood chaf'd,
Have to the port of Athens fent their fhips,
Fraught with the minifters and inftruments
Of cruel war. Sixty and nine that wore
Their crownets regal, from th' Athenian bay
Put forth toward Phrygia, and their vow is made
To ranfack Troy; within whofe ftrong immures,
The ravib'd Helen, Menelaus' Queen,

With wanton Paris fleeps, and that's the quarrel.
To Tenedos they come-

And the deep-drawing barks do there difgorge
Their warlike fraughtage. Now on Dardan plains,
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch.
Their brave pavilions. Priam's fix gates i' th' city,
Dardan, and Thymbria, Ilia, Scæa, Trojan,
And Antenorides, with maffy faples ·
And correfponfive and full-filling bolts,
Sperr up the fans of Troy,

Now Expectation tickling fkittif Spirits
On one and other fide, Trojan and Greek,
Sets all on bazard. Hither am I come
A Prologue arm'd, but not in confidence
Of Author's pen, or Actor's voice ; but suited
In like conditions as our argument;

To tell you (fair bebolders) that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firfilings of those broils,
'Ginning i' th' middle: Starting thence away
may be digefted in a Play.

To what
Like, or find fault, do as your pleasures are,
Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of avar.

VOL. VIII.

N

DA

PATROCLUS,

THERSITES,

CALCHAS,

HELEN, Wife to Menelaus, in Love with Paris.
ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector.

CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess.
CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas, in Love with Troilus.
ALEXANDER, Servant to Creffida.

Boy, Page to Troilus.

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, with other Attendants.
SCENE Troy and the Grecian Camp.

The Story originally written by Lollius an old Lombard
Author, and fince by Chaucer.

It is alfo found in an old English Story-book of the three deftructions of Troy, from rubich many of the circumstances in this Play are borrow'd, they being to be found no where offer

Troilus

*Troilus and Creffida.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Priam's Palace within the walls of Troy, but supposed to bave a fituation a little diftant from the reft of the City. Enter Pandarus, and Troilus.

Troi.

C

ALL here my varlet, I'll unarm again.

Why fhould I war without the walls of Troy,
That find fuch cruel battle here within?

Each Trojan that is mafter of his heart,

Let him to field, Troilus alas! hath none.
Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended?

Troi. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant.
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than fleep, fonder than ignorance;
Lefs valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skill-lefs as unpractis'd infancy.

Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make any farther. He that will have a cake out of the wheat, muft tarry the grinding. Troi. Have I not tarried ?

Before this Play of Troilus and Cresida printed in 1609 is a Bookfeller's preface, fhewing that first impreffion to have been before the Play had been acted, and that it was published without Shakespear's knowledge from a copy that had fallen into the Bookfeller's hands. Mr. Dryden thinks this one of the firft of our Author's Plays: But on the contrary, it may be judged from the foremention'd Preface that it was one of his laft; and the great number of observations, both moral and politick, (with which this piece is crowded more than any other of h s) feems to confirm that opinion.

N 2

Pan.

Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you muft tarry the boulting, Troi. Have I not tarried?

Pan. Ay, the boulting; but you muft tarry the leav'ning. Troi. Still have I tarried.

Pan. Ay, to the leav'ning: but here's yet in the word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must ftay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips. Troi. Patience her felf, what Goddess e'er the be, Doth not lefs blench at fufferance than I do : At Priam's royal table I do fit;

And when fair Creffid comes into my thoughts,

So, traitor!when he comes? when is the thence? Pan. Well, the look'd yesternight fairer than ever I faw her look, or any woman elfe.

Troi. I was about to tell thee, when my heart
As wedg'd with a figh would rive in twain,
Left Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have (as when the fun doth light a storm)
Buried this figh in wrinkle of a fmile:

But forrow, that is couch'd in feeming gladness,
Is like that mirth fate turns to fudden fadnefs.

Pan. An her hair were not fomewhat darker than Helen's -well, go to, there were no more comparison between the women. But for my part fhe is my kinfwoman, I would not (as they term it) praise her-but I would fomebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did: I will not difpraite your fifter Caffandra's wit, but

Troi. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus

When I do tell thee, there my hopes lye drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep

They lye indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Creffid's love: thou anfwer'ft, she is fair;
Pour't in the open ulcer of my heart

Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gate, her voice;
Handleft in thy difcourfe -O that! her hand!
In whofe comparison, all whites are ink

Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, to th' spirit of fenfe
Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'ft me,

As