THE TRAGEDIE OF
Troylus and Cressida.

Call here my Varlet, Ile vnarme againe.
Why should I warre without the wals of Troy
That finde such cruell battell here within?
Each Troian that is master of his heart,
Let him to field, Troylus alas hath none.

Will this geere nere be mended?

The Greeks are strong, & skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenesse Valiant:
But I am weaker then a womans teare;
Tamer then sleepe, fonder then ignorance;
Lesse valiant then the Virgin in the night,
And skillesse as vnpractis'd Infancie.

Well, I haue told you enough of this: For my
part, Ile not meddle nor make no farther. Hee that will
haue a Cake out of the Wheate, must needes tarry the
grinding.

Haue I not tarried?

I the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.

Haue I not tarried?

I the boulting; but you must tarry the leau'ning,

Still haue I tarried.

I, to the leauening: but heeres yet in the word
hereafter, the Kneading, the making of the Cake, the
heating of the Ouen, and the Baking; nay, you must stay
the cooling too, or you may chance to burne your lips.

Patience her selfe, what Goddesse ere she be,
Doth lesser blench at sufferance, then I doe:
At Priams Royall Table doe I sit;
And when faire Cressid comes into my thoughts,
So (Traitor) then she comes, when she is thence.

Well:
She look'd yesternight fairer, then euer I saw her looke,
Or any woman else.

I was about to tell thee, when my heart,
As wedged with a sigh, would riue in twaine,
Least Hector, or my Father should perceiue me:
I haue (as when the Sunne doth light a-scorne)
Buried this sigh, in wrinkle of a smile:
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladnesse,
Is like that mirth, Fate turnes to sudden sadnesse.

And her haire were not somewhat darker then
Helens, well go too, there were no more comparison be-
tweene the Women. But for my part she is my Kinswo-
man, I would not (as they tearme it) praise it, but I wold
some-body had heard her talke yesterday as I did: I will
not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but——

Oh Pandarus! I tell thee Pandarus;
When I doe tell thee, there my hopes lye drown'd:
Reply not in how many Fadomes deepe
They lye indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Cressids loue. Thou answer'st she is Faire,
Powr'st in the open Vlcer of my heart,
Her Eyes, her Haire, her Cheeke, her Gate, her Voice,
Handlest in thy discourse. O that her Hand
(In whose comparison, all whites are Inke)
Writing their owne reproach; to whose soft seizure,
The Cignets Downe is harsh, and spirit of Sense
Hard as the palme of Plough-man. This thou tel'st me;
As true thou tel'st me, when I say I loue her:
But saying thus, instead of Oyle and Balme,
Thou lai'st in euery gash that loue hath giuen me,
The Knife that made it.

I speake no more then truth.

Thou do'st not speake so much.

Faith, Ile not meddle in't: Let her be as shee is,
if she be faire, 'tis the better for her: and she be not, she
ha's the mends in her owne hands.

Good Pandarus: How now Pandarus?

I haue had my Labour for my trauell, ill thought
on of her, and ill thought on of you: Gone betweene and
betweene, but small thankes for my labour.

What art thou angry Pandarus? what with me?

Because she's Kinne to me, therefore shee's not
so faire as Helen, and she were not kin to me, she would
be as faire on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what
care I? I care not and she were a Black-a-Moore, 'tis all
one to me.

Say I she is not faire?

I doe not care whether you doe or no, Shee's a
Foole to stay behinde her Father: Let her to the Greeks,
and so Ile tell her the next time I see her: for my part, Ile
meddle nor make no more i'th' matter.

Pandarus?

Not I.

Sweete Pandarus.

Pray you speake no more to me, I will leaue all
as I found it, and there an end.

Peace you vngracious Clamors, peace rude sounds,
Fooles on both sides, Helen must needs be faire,
When with your bloud you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight vpon this Argument: [XX2]
It is too staru'd a subiect for my Sword,
But Pandarus: O Gods! How do you plague me?
I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar,
And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woe,
As she is stubborne, chast, against all suite.
Tell me Apollo for thy Daphnes Loue
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we:
Her bed is India, there she lies, a Pearle,
Between our Ilium, and where shee recides
Let it be cald the wild and wandring flood,
Our selfe the Merchant, and this sayling Pandar,
Our doubtfull hope, our conuoy and our Barke.

How now Prince Troylus?
Wherefore not a field?

Because not there; this womans answer sorts.
For womanish it is to be from thence:
What newes Aeneas from the field to day?

That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

By whom Aeneas?

Troylus by Menelaus.

Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorne.
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus horne.

Harke what good sport is out of Towne to day.

Better at home, if would I might were may:
But to the sport abroad, are you bound thither?

In all swift hast.

Come goe wee then togither.

Who were those went by?

Queene Hecuba, and Hellen.

And whether go they?

Vp to the Easterne Tower,
Whose height commands as subiect all the vaile,
To see the battell: Hector whose pacience,
Is as a Vertue fixt, to day was mou'd:
He chides Andromache and strooke his Armorer,
And like as there were husbandry in Warre
Before the Sunne rose, hee was harnest lyte,
And to the field goe's he; where euery flower
Did as a Prophet weepe what it forsaw,
In Hectors wrath.

What was his cause of anger?

The noise goe's thus;
There is among the Greekes,
A Lord of Troian blood, Nephew to Hector,
They call him Aiax.

Good; and what of him?

They say he is a very man per se and stands alone.

So do all men, vnlesse they are drunke, sicke, or
haue no legges.

This man Lady, hath rob'd many beasts of their
particular additions, he is as valiant as the Lyon, churlish
as the Beare, slow as the Elephant: a man into whom
nature hath so crowded humors, that his valour is crusht
into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no
man hath a vertue, that he hath not a glimpse of, nor a-
ny man an attaint, but he carries some staine of it. He is
melancholy without cause, and merry against the haire,
hee hath the ioynts of euery thing, but euery thing so
out of ioynt, that hee is a gowtie Briareus, many hands
and no vse; or purblinded Argus, all eyes and no sight.

But how should this man that makes me smile,
make Hector angry?

They say he yesterday cop'd Hector in the bat-
tell and stroke him downe, the disdaine & shame where-
of, hath euer since kept Hector fasting and waking.

Who comes here?

Madam your Vncle Pandarus.

Hectors a gallant man.

As may be in the world Lady.

What's that? what's that?

Good morrow Vncle Pandarus.

Good morrow Cozen Cressid: what do you talke
of? good morrow Alexander: how do you Cozen? when
were you at Illium?

This morning Vncle.

What were you talking of when I came? Was
Hector arm'd and gon ere yea came to Illium? Hellen was
not vp? was she?

Hector was gone but Hellen was not vp?

E'ene so; Hector was stirring early.

That were we talking of, and of his anger.

Was he angry?

So he saies here.

True he was so; I know the cause too, heele lay
about him to day I can tell them that, and there's Troylus
will not come farre behind him, let them take heede of
Troylus; I can tell them that too.

What is he angry too?

Who Troylus?
Troylus is the better man of the two.

Oh Iupiter; there's no comparison.

What not betweene Troylus and Hector? do you
know a man if you see him?

I, if I euer saw him before and knew him.

Well I say Troylus is Troylus.

Then you say as I say,
For I am sure he is not Hector.

No not Hector is not Troylus in some degrees.

'Tis iust, to each of them he is himselfe.

Himselfe? alas poore Troylus I would he were.

So he is.

Condition I had gone bare-foote to India.

He is not Hector.

Himselfe? no? hee's not himselfe, would a were
himselfe: well, the Gods are aboue, time must friend or
end: well Troylus well, I would my heart were in her bo-
dy; no, Hector is not a better man then Troylus.

Excuse me.

He is elder.

Pardon me, pardon me.

Th' others not come too't, you shall tell me ano-
ther tale when th' others come too't: Hector shall not
haue his will this yeare.

He shall not neede it if he haue his owne.

Nor his qualities.

No matter.

Nor his beautie.

'Twould not become him, his own's better.

You haue no iudgement Neece; Hellen her selfe
swore th' other day, that Troylus for a browne fauour (for
so 'tis I must confesse) not browne neither.

No, but browne.

Faith to say truth, browne and not browne.

To say the truth, true and not true.

She prais'd his complexion aboue Paris.

Why Paris hath colour inough.

So he has.

Then Troylus should haue too much, if she prais'd
him aboue, his complexion is higher then his, he hauing [XX2v]
colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a
praise for a good complexion, I had as lieue Hellens gol-
den tongue had commended Troylus for a copper nose.

I sweare to you,
I thinke Hellen loues him better then Paris.

Then shee's a merry Greeke indeed.

Nay I am sure she does, she came to him th' other
day into the compast window, and you know he has not
past three or foure haires on his chinne.

Indeed a Tapsters Arithmetique may soone
bring his particulars as therein, to a totall.

Why he is very yong, and yet will he within
three pound lift as much as his brother Hector.

Is he is so young a man, and so old a lifter?

But to prooue to you that Hellen loues him, she
came and puts me her white hand to his clouen chin.

Iuno haue mercy, how came it clouen?

Why, you know 'tis dimpled,
I thinke his smyling becomes him better then any man
in all Phrigia.

Oh he smiles valiantly.

Dooes hee not?

Oh yes, and 'twere a clow'd in Autumne.

Why go to then, but to proue to you that Hellen
loues Troylus.

Troylus wil stand to thee
Proofe, if youle prooue it so.

Troylus? why he esteemes her no more then I e-
steeme an addle egge.

If you loue an addle egge as well as you loue an
idle head, you would eate chickens i'th' shell.

I cannot chuse but laugh to thinke how she tick-
led his chin, indeed shee has a maruel's white hand I must
needs confesse.

Without the racke.

And shee takes vpon her to spie a white haire on
his chinne.

Alas poore chin? many a wart is richer.

But there was such laughing, Queene Hecuba
laught that her eyes ran ore.

With Milstones.

And Cassandra laught.

But there was more temperate fire vnder the pot
of her eyes: did her eyes run ore too?

And Hector laught.

At what was all this laughing?

Marry at the white haire that Hellen spied on
Troylus chin.

And t'had beene a greene haire, I should haue
laught too.

They laught not so much at the haire, as at his
pretty answere.

What was his answere?

Quoth shee, heere's but two and fifty haires on
your chinne; and one of them is white.

This is her question.

That's true, make no question of that, two and
fiftie haires quoth hee, and one white, that white haire is
my Father, and all the rest are his Sonnes. Iupiter quoth
she, which of these haires is Paris my husband? The for-
ked one quoth he, pluckt out and giue it him: but there
was such laughing, and Hellen so blusht, and Paris so
chaft, and all the rest so laught, that it past.

So let it now,
For it has beene a great while going by.

Well Cozen,
I told you a thing yesterday, think on't.

So I does.

Ile be sworne 'tis true, he will weepe you
an 'twere a man borne in Aprill.

And Ile spring vp in his teares, an 'twere a nettle
against May.

Harke they are comming from the field, shal we
stand vp here and see them, as they passe toward Illium,
good Neece do, sweet Neece Cressida.

At your pleasure.

Heere, heere, here's an excellent place, heere we
may see most brauely, Ile tel you them all by their names,
as they passe by, but marke Troylus aboue the rest.

Speake not so low'd.

That's Aeneas, is not that a braue man, hee's one
of the flowers of Troy I can you, marke Troylus, you
shal see anon.

Who's that?

That's Antenor, he has a shrow'd wit I can tell
you, and hee's a man good inough, hee's one o'th soun-
dest iudgement in Troy whosoeuer, and a proper man of
person: when comes Troylus? Ile shew you Troylus anon,
if hee see me, you shall see him nod at me.

Will he giue you the nod?

You shall see.

If he do, the rich shall haue, more.

That's Hector, that, that looke you, that there's a
fellow. Goe thy way Hector, there's a braue man Neece,
O braue Hector! Looke how hee lookes? there's a coun-
tenance; ist not a braue man?

O braue man!

Is a not? It dooes a mans heart good, looke you
what hacks are on his Helmet, looke you yonder, do you
see? Looke you there? There's no iesting, laying on, tak't
off, who will as they say, there be hacks.

Be those with Swords?

Swords, any thing he cares not, and the diuell
come to him, it's all one, by Gods lid it dooes ones heart
good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris: looke
yee yonder Neece, ist not a gallant man to, ist not? Why
this is braue now: who said he came hurt home to day?
Hee's not hurt, why this will do Hellens heart good
now, ha? Would I could see Troylus now, you shall Troy-lus
anon.

Whose that?

That's Hellenus, I maruell where Troylus is, that's
Helenus, I thinke he went not forth to day: that's Hel-lenus.

Can Hellenus fight Vncle?

Hellenus no: yes heele fight indifferent, well, I
maruell where Troylus is; harke, do you not heare the
people crie Troylus? Hellenus is a Priest.

What sneaking fellow comes yonder?

Where? Yonder? That's Doephobus. 'Tis Troy-lus!
Ther's a man Neece, hem? Braue Troylus the Prince
of Chiualrie.

Peace, for shame peace.

Marke him, not him: O braue Troylus: looke
well vpon him Neece, looke you how his Sword is blou-
died, and his Helme more hackt then Hectors, and how he [YY1]
lookes, and how he goes. O admirable youth! he ne're
saw three and twenty. Go thy way Troylus, go thy way,
had I a sister were a Grace, or a daughter a Goddesse, hee
should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris? Paris
is durt to him, and I warrant, Helen to change, would
giue money to boot.

Heere come more.

Asses, fooles, dolts, chaffe and bran, chaffe and
bran; porredge after meat. I could liue and dye i'th' eyes
of Troylus. Ne're looke, ne're looke; the Eagles are gon,
Crowes and Dawes, Crowes and Dawes: I had rather be
such a man as Troylus, then Agamemnon, and all Greece.

There is among the Greekes Achilles, a better
man then Troylus.

Achilles? a Dray-man, a Porter, a very Camell.

Well, well.

Well, well? Why haue you any discretion? haue
you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth,
beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gen-
tlenesse, vertue, youth, liberality, and so forth: the Spice,
and salt that seasons a man?

I, a minc'd man, and then to be bak'd with no Date
in the pye, for then the mans dates out.

You are such another woman, one knowes not
at what ward you lye.

Vpon my backe, to defend my belly; vpon my
wit, to defend my wiles; vppon my secrecy, to defend
mine honesty; my Maske, to defend my beauty, and you
to defend all these: and all these wardes I lye at, at a
thousand watches.

Say one of your watches.

Nay Ile watch you for that, and that's one of
the cheefest of them too: If I cannot ward what I would
not haue hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the
blow, vnlesse it swell past hiding, and then it's past wat-
ching.

You are such another.

Sir, my Lord would instantly speake with you.

Where?

At your owne house.

Good Boy tell him I come, I doubt he bee hurt.
Fare ye well good Neece.

Adieu Vnkle.

Ile be with you Neece by and by.

To bring Vnkle.

I, a token from Troylus.

By the same token, you are a Bawd.
Words, vowes, gifts, teares, & loues full sacrifice,
He offers in anothers enterprise:
But more in Troylus thousand fold I see,
Then in the glasse of Pandar's praise may be;
Yet hold I off. Women are Angels wooing,
Things won are done, ioyes soule lyes in the dooing:
That she belou'd, knowes nought, that knowes not this;
Men prize the thing vngain'd, more then it is.
That she was neuer yet, that euer knew
Loue got so sweet, as when desire did sue:
Therefore this maxime out of loue I teach;
"Atchieuement, is command; vngain'd, beseech.
That though my hearts Contents firme loue doth beare,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appeare.

Princes:
What greefe hath set the Iaundies on your cheekes?
The ample proposition that hope makes
In all designes, begun on earth below
Fayles in the promist largenesse: checkes and disasters
Grow in the veines of actions highest rear'd.
As knots by the conflux of meeting sap,
Infect the sound Pine, and diuerts his Graine
Tortiue and erant from his course of growth.
Nor Princes, is it matter new to vs,
That we come short of our suppose so farre,
That after seuen yeares siege, yet Troy walles stand,
Sith euery action that hath gone before,
Whereof we haue Record, Triall did draw
Bias and thwart, not answering the ayme:
And that vnbodied figure of the thought
That gaue't surmised shape. Why then (you Princes)
Do you with cheekes abash'd, behold our workes,
And thinke them shame, which are (indeed) nought else
But the protractiue trials of great Ioue,
To finde persistiue constancie in men?
The finenesse of which Mettall is not found
In Fortunes loue: for then, the Bold and Coward,
The Wise and Foole, the Artist and vn-read,
The hard and soft, seeme all affin'd, and kin.
But on the Winde and Tempest of her frowne,
Distinction with a lowd and powrefull fan,
Puffing at all, winnowes the light away;
And what hath masse, or matter by it selfe,
Lies rich in Vertue, and vnmingled.

With due Obseruance of thy godly seat,
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply
Thy latest words.
In the reproofe of Chance,
Lies the true proofe of men: The Sea being smooth,
How many shallow bauble Boates dare saile
Vpon her patient brest, making their way
With those of Nobler bulke?
But let the Ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and anon behold
The strong ribb'd Barke through liquid Mountaines cut,
Bounding betweene the two moyst Elements
Like Perseus Horse. Where's then the sawcy Boate,
Whose weake vntimber'd sides but euen now
Co-riual'd Greatnesse? Either to harbour fled,
Or made a Toste for Neptune. Euen so,
Doth valours shew, and valours worth diuide
In stormes of Fortune.
For, in her ray and brightnesse,
The Heard hath more annoyance by the Brieze
Then by the Tyger: But, when the splitting winde
Makes flexible the knees of knotted Oakes,
And Flies fled vnder shade, why then
The thing of Courage,
As rowz'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,
And with an accent tun'd in selfe-same key,
Retyres to chiding Fortune.

Agamemnon:
Thou great Commander, Nerue, and Bone of Greece,
Heart of our Numbers, soule, and onely spirit,
In whom the tempers, and the mindes of all
Should be shut vp: Heare what Vlysses speakes,
Besides the applause and approbation
The which most mighty for thy place and sway, [YY1v]
And thou most reuerend for thy stretcht-out life,
I giue to both your speeches: which were such,
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece
Should hold vp high in Brasse: and such againe
As venerable Nestor (hatch'd in Siluer)
Should with a bond of ayre, strong as the Axletree
In which the Heauens ride, knit all Greekes eares
To his experienc'd tongue: yet let it please both
(Thou Great, and Wise) to heare Vlysses speake.

Speak Prince of Ithaca, and be't of lesse expect:
That matter needlesse of importlesse burthen
Diuide thy lips; then we are confident
When ranke Thersites opes his Masticke iawes,
We shall heare Musicke, Wit, and Oracle.

Troy yet vpon his basis had bene downe,
And the great Hectors sword had lack'd a Master
But for these instances.
The specialty of Rule hath beene neglected;
And looke how many Grecian Tents do stand
Hollow vpon this Plaine, so many hollow Factions.
When that the Generall is not like the Hiue,
To whom the Forragers shall all repaire,
What Hony is expected? Degree being vizarded,
Th' vnworthiest shewes as fairely in the Maske.
The Heauens themselues, the Planets, and this Center,
Obserue degree, priority, and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, forme,
Office, and custome, in all line of Order:
And therefore is the glorious Planet Sol
In noble eminence, enthron'd, and sphear'd
Amid'st the other, whose med'cinable eye
Corrects the ill Aspects of Planets euill,
And postes like the Command'ment of a King,
Sans checke, to good and bad. But when the Planets
In euill mixture to disorder wander,
What Plagues, and what portents, what mutiny?
What raging of the Sea? shaking of Earth?
Commotion in the Windes? Frights, changes, horrors,
Diuert, and cracke, rend and deracinate
The vnity, and married calme of States
Quite from their fixure? O, when Degree is shak'd,
(Which is the Ladder to all high designes)
The enterprize is sicke. How could Communities,
Degrees in Schooles, and Brother-hoods in Cities,
Peacefull Commerce from diuidable shores,
The primogenitiue, and due of Byrth,
Prerogatiue of Age, Crownes, Scepters, Lawrels,
(But by Degree) stand in Authentique place?
Take but Degree away, vn-tune that string,
And hearke what Discord followes: each thing meetes
In meere oppugnancie. The bounded Waters,
Should lift their bosomes higher then the Shores,
And make a soppe of all this solid Globe:
Strength should be Lord of imbecility,
And the rude Sonne should strike his Father dead:
Force should be right, or rather, right and wrong,
(Betweene whose endlesse iarre, Iustice recides)
Should loose her names, and so should Iustice too.
Then euery thing includes it selfe in Power,
Power into Will, Will into Appetite,
And Appetite (an vniuersall Wolfe,
So doubly seconded with Will, and Power)
Must make perforce an vniuersall prey,
And last, eate vp himselfe.
Great Agamemnon:
This Chaos, when Degree is suffocate,
Followes the choaking:
And this neglection of Degree, is it
That by a pace goes backward in a purpose
It hath to climbe. The Generall's disdain'd
By him one step below; he, by the next,
That next, by him beneath: so euery step
Exampled by the first pace that is sicke
Of his Superiour, growes to an enuious Feauer
Of pale, and bloodlesse Emulation.
And 'tis this Feauer that keepes Troy on foote,
Not her owne sinewes. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weaknesse liues, not in her strength.

Most wisely hath Vlysses heere discouer'd
The Feauer, whereof all our power is sicke.

The Nature of the sicknesse found (Vlysses)
What is the remedie?

The great Achilles, whom Opinion crownes,
The sinew, and the fore-hand of our Hoste,
Hauing his eare full of his ayery Fame,
Growes dainty of his worth, and in his Tent
Lyes mocking our designes. With him, Patroclus,
Vpon a lazie Bed, the liue-long day
Breakes scurrill Iests,
And with ridiculous and aukward action,
(Which Slanderer, he imitation call's)
He Pageants vs. Sometime great Agamemnon,
Thy toplesse deputation he puts on;
And like a strutting Player, whose conceit
Lies in his Ham-string, and doth thinke it rich
To heare the woodden Dialogue and sound
'Twixt his stretcht footing, and the Scaffolage,
Such to be pittied, and ore-rested seeming
He acts thy Greatnesse in: and when he speakes,
'Tis like a Chime a mending. With tearmes vnsquar'd,
Which from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropt,
Would seemes Hyperboles. At this fusty stuffe,
The large Achilles (on his prest-bed lolling)
From his deepe Chest, laughes out a lowd applause,
Cries excellent, 'tis Agamemnon iust.
Now play me Nestor; hum, and stroke thy Beard
As he, being drest to some Oration:
That's done, as neere as the extreamest ends
Of paralels; as like, as Vulcan and his wife,
Yet god Achilles still cries excellent,
'Tis Nestor right. Now play him (me) Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night-Alarme,
And then (forsooth) the faint defects of Age
Must be the Scene of myrth, to cough, and spit,
And with a palsie fumbling on his Gorget,
Shake in and out the Riuet: and at this sport
Sir Valour dies; cries, O enough Patroclus,
Or, giue me ribs of Steele, I shall split all
In pleasure of my Spleene. And in this fashion,
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,
Seuerals and generals of grace exact,
Atchieuments, plots, orders, preuentions,
Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,
Successe or losse, what is, or is not, serues
As stuffe for these two, to make paradoxes.

And in the imitation of these twaine,
Who (as Vlysses sayes) Opinion crownes
With an Imperiall voyce, many are infect:
Aiax is growne selfe-will'd, and beares his head
In such a reyne, in full as proud a place
As broad Achilles, and keepes his Tent like him;
Makes factious Feasts, railes on our state of Warre [YY2]
Bold as an Oracle, and sets Thersites
A slaue, whose Gall coines slanders like a Mint,
To match vs in comparisons with durt,
To weaken and discredit our exposure,
How ranke soeuer rounded in with danger.

They taxe our policy, and call it Cowardice,
Count Wisedome as no member of the Warre,
Fore-stall prescience, and esteeme no acte
But that of hand: The still and mentall parts,
That do contriue how many hands shall strike
When fitnesse call them on, and know by measure
Of their obseruant toyle, the Enemies waight,
Why this hath not a fingers dignity:
They call this Bed-worke, Mapp'ry, Closset-Warre:
So that the Ramme that batters downe the wall,
For the great swing and rudenesse of his poize,
They place before his hand that made the Engine,
Or those that with the finenesse of their soules,
By Reason guide his execution.

Let this be granted, and Achilles horse
Makes many Thetis sonnes.

What Trumpet? Looke Menelaus.

From Troy.

What would you 'fore our Tent?

Is this great Agamemnons Tent, I pray you?

Euen this.

May one that is a Herald, and a Prince,
Do a faire message to his Kingly eares?

With surety stronger then Achilles arme,
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voyce
Call Agamemnon Head and Generall.

Faire leaue, and large security. How may
A stranger to those most Imperial lookes,
Know them from eyes of other Mortals?

How?

I: I aske, that I might waken reuerence,
And on the cheeke be ready with a blush
Modest as morning, when she coldly eyes
The youthfull Phoebus:
Which is that God in office guiding men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?

This Troyan scornes vs, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious Courtiers.

Courtiers as free, as debonnaire; vnarm'd,
As bending Angels; that's their Fame, in peace;
But when they would seeme Souldiers, they haue galles,
Good armes, strong ioynts, true swords, & Ioues accord,
Nothing so full of heart. But peace Aeneas,
Peace Troyan, lay thy finger on thy lips,
The worthinesse of praise distaines his worth:
If that he prais'd himselfe, bring the praise forth.
But what the repining enemy commends,
That breath Fame blowes, that praise sole pure transce[n]ds.

Sir, you of Troy, call you your selfe Aeneas?

I Greeke, that is my name.

What's your affayre I pray you?

Sir pardon, 'tis for Agamemnons eares.

He heares nought priuatly
That comes from Troy.

Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him,
I bring a Trumpet to awake his eare,
To set his sence on the attentiue bent,
And then to speake.

Speake frankely as the winde,
It is not Agamemnons sleeping houre;
That thou shalt know Troyan he is awake,
He tels thee so himselfe.

Trumpet blow loud,
Send thy Brasse voyce through all these lazie Tents,
And euery Greeke of mettle, let him know,
What Troy meanes fairely, shall be spoke alowd.

We haue great Agamemnon heere in Troy,
A Prince call'd Hector, Priam is his Father:
Who in this dull and long-continew'd Truce
Is rusty growne. He bad me take a Trumpet,
And to this purpose speake: Kings, Princes, Lords,
If there be one among'st the fayr'st of Greece,
That holds his Honor higher then his ease,
That seekes his praise, more then he feares his perill,
That knowes his Valour, and knowes not his feare,
That loues his Mistris more then in confession,
(With truant vowes to her owne lips he loues)
And dare avow her Beauty, and her Worth,
In other armes then hers: to him this Challenge.
Hector, in view of Troyans, and of Greekes,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it.
He hath a Lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
Then euer Greeke did compasse in his armes,
And will to morrow with his Trumpet call,
Midway betweene your Tents, and walles of Troy,
To rowze a Grecian that is true in loue.
If any come, Hector shal honour him:
If none, hee'l say in Troy when he retyres,
The Grecian Dames are sun-burnt, and not worth
The splinter of a Lance: Euen so much.

This shall be told our Louers Lord Aeneas,
If none of them haue soule in such a kinde,
We left them all at home: But we are Souldiers,
And may that Souldier a meere recreant proue,
That meanes not, hath not, or is not in loue:
If then one is, or hath, or meanes to be,
That one meets Hector; if none else, Ile be he.

Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man
When Hectors Grandsire suckt: he is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian mould,
One Noble man, that hath one spark of fire
To answer for his Loue; tell him from me,
Ile hide my Siluer beard in a Gold Beauer,
And in my Vantbrace put this wither'd brawne,
And meeting him, wil tell him, that my Lady
Was fayrer then his Grandame, and as chaste
As may be in the world: his youth in flood,
Ile pawne this truth with my three drops of blood.

Now heauens forbid such scarsitie of youth.

Amen.

Faire Lord Aeneas,
Let me touch your hand:
To our Pauillion shal I leade you first:
Achilles shall haue word of this intent,
So shall each Lord of Greece from Tent to Tent:
Your selfe shall Feast with vs before you goe,
And finde the welcome of a Noble Foe.

Nestor.

What sayes Vlysses?

I haue a young conception in my braine,
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

What is't?

This 'tis:
Blunt wedges riue hard knots: the seeded Pride
That hath to this maturity blowne vp [YY2v]
In ranke Achilles, must or now be cropt,
Or shedding breed a Nursery of like euil
To ouer-bulke vs all.

Wel, and how?

This challenge that the gallant Hector sends,
How euer it is spred in general name,
Relates in purpose onely to Achilles.

The purpose is perspicuous euen as substance,
Whose grossenesse little charracters summe vp,
And in the publication make no straine,
But that Achilles, were his braine as barren
As bankes of Lybia, though (Apollo knowes)
'Tis dry enough, wil with great speede of iudgement,
I, with celerity, finde Hectors purpose
Pointing on him.

And wake him to the answer, thinke you?

Yes, 'tis most meet; who may you else oppose
That can from Hector bring his Honor off,
If not Achilles; though't be a sportfull Combate,
Yet in this triall, much opinion dwels.
For heere the Troyans taste our deer'st repute
With their fin'st Pallate: and trust to me Vlysses,
Our imputation shall be oddely poiz'd
In this wilde action. For the successe
(Although particular) shall giue a scantling
Of good or bad, vnto the Generall:
And in such Indexes, although small prickes
To their subsequent Volumes, there is seene
The baby figure of the Gyant-masse
Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd,
He that meets Hector, issues from our choyse;
And choise being mutuall acte of all our soules,
Makes Merit her election, and doth boyle
As 'twere, from forth vs all: a man distill'd
Out of our Vertues; who miscarrying,
What heart from hence receyues the conqu'ring part
To steele a strong opinion to themselues,
Which entertain'd, Limbes are in his instruments,
In no lesse working, then are Swords and Bowes
Directiue by the Limbes.

Giue pardon to my speech:
Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector:
Let vs (like Merchants) shew our fowlest Wares,
And thinke perchance they'l sell: If not,
The luster of the better yet to shew,
Shall shew the better. Do not consent,
That euer Hector and Achilles meete:
For both our Honour, and our Shame in this,
Are dogg'd with two strange Followers.

I see them not with my old eies: what are they?

What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,
(Were he not proud) we all should weare with him:
But he already is too insolent,
And we were better parch in Affricke Sunne,
Then in the pride and salt scorne of his eyes
Should he scape Hector faire. If he were foyld,
Why then we did our maine opinion crush
In taint of our best man. No, make a Lott'ry,
And by deuice let blockish Aiax draw
The sort to fight with Hector: Among our selues,
Giue him allowance as the worthier man,
For that will physicke the great Myrmidon
Who broyles in lowd applause, and make him fall
His Crest, that prouder then blew Iris bends.
If the dull brainlesse Aiax come safe off,
Wee'l dresse him vp in voyces: if he faile,
Yet go we vnder our opinion still,
That we haue better men. But hit or misse,
Our proiects life this shape of sence assumes,
Aiax imploy'd, pluckes downe Achilles Plumes.

Now Vlysses, I begin to rellish thy aduice,
And I wil giue a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon, go we to him straight:
Two Curres shal tame each other, Pride alone
Must tarre the Mastiffes on, as 'twere their bone.

Thersites?

Agamemnon, how if he had Biles (ful) all ouer
generally.

Thersites?

And those Byles did runne, say so; did not the
General run, were not that a botchy core?

Dogge.

Then there would come some matter from him:
I see none now.

Thou Bitch-Wolfes-Sonne, canst thou not heare?
Feele then.

The plague of Greece vpon thee thou Mungrel
beefe-witted Lord.

Speake then you whinid'st leauen speake, I will
beate thee into handsomnesse.

I shal sooner rayle thee into wit and holinesse:
but I thinke thy Horse wil sooner con an Oration, then y
learn a prayer without booke: Thou canst strike, canst
thou? A red Murren o'thy Iades trickes.

Toads stoole, learne me the Proclamation.

Doest thou thinke I haue no sence thou strik'st me thus?

The Proclamation.

Thou art proclaim'd a foole, I thinke.

Do not Porpentine, do not; my fingers itch.

I would thou didst itch from head to foot, and
I had the scratching of thee, I would make thee the loth-som'st
scab in Greece.

I say the Proclamation.

Thou grumblest & railest euery houre on A-chilles,
and thou art as ful of enuy at his greatnes, as Cer-berus
is at Proserpina's beauty. I, that thou barkst at him.

Mistresse Thersites.

Thou should'st strike him.

Coblofe.

He would pun thee into shiuers with his fist, as
a Sailor breakes a bisket.

You horson Curre.

Do, do.

Thou stoole for a Witch.

I, do, do, thou sodden-witted Lord: thou hast
no more braine then I haue in mine elbows: An Asinico
may tutor thee. Thou scuruy valiant Asse, thou art heere
but to thresh Troyans, and thou art bought and solde a-
mong those of any wit, like a Barbarian slaue. If thou vse
to beat me, I wil begin at thy heele, and tel what thou art
by inches, thou thing of no bowels thou.

You dogge.

You scuruy Lord.

You Curre.

Mars his Ideot: do rudenes, do Camell, do, do.

Why how now Aiax? wherefore do you this?
How now Thersites? what's the matter man?

You see him there, do you?

I, what's the matter.

Nay looke vpon him.

So I do: what's the matter? [YY3]

Nay but regard him well.

Well, why I do so.

But yet you looke not well vpon him: for who
some euer you take him to be, he is Aiax.

I know that foole.

I, but that foole knowes not himselfe.

Therefore I beate thee.

Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he vtters: his
euasions haue eares thus long. I haue bobb'd his Braine
more then he has beate my bones: I will buy nine Spar-
rowes for a peny, and his Piamater is not worth the ninth
part of a Sparrow. This Lord (Achilles) Aiax who wears
his wit in his belly, and his guttes in his head, Ile tell you
what I say of him.

What?

I say this Aiax——

Nay good Aiax.

Has not so much wit.

Nay, I must hold you.

As will stop the eye of Helens Needle, for whom
he comes to fight.

Peace foole.

I would haue peace and quietnes, but the foole
will not: he there, that he, looke you there.

O thou damn'd Curre, I shall——

Will you set your wit to a Fooles.

No I warrant you, for a fooles will shame it.

Good words Thersites.

What's the quarrell?

I bad thee vile Owle, goe learne me the tenure
of the Proclamation, and he rayles vpon me.

I serue thee not.

Well, go too, go too.

I serue heere voluntary.

Your last seruice was sufferance, 'twas not vo-
luntary, no man is beaten voluntary: Aiax was heere the
voluntary, and you as vnder an Impresse.

E'ne so, a great deale of your wit too lies in your
sinnewes, or else there be Liars. Hector shall haue a great
catch, if he knocke out either of your braines, he were as
good cracke a fustie nut with no kernell.

What with me to Thersites?

There's Vlysses, and old Nestor, whose Wit was
mouldy ere their Grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke
you like draft-Oxen, and make you plough vp the warre.

What? what?

Yes good sooth, to Achilles, to Aiax, to——

I shall cut out your tongue.

'Tis no matter, I shall speake as much as thou
afterwards.

No more words Thersites.

I will hold my peace when Achilles Brooch bids
me, shall I?

There's for you Patroclus.

I will see you hang'd like Clotpoles ere I come
any more to your Tents; I will keepe where there is wit
stirring, and leaue the faction of fooles.

A good riddance.

Marry this Sir is proclaim'd through al our host,
That Hector by the fift houre of the Sunne,
Will with a Trumpet, 'twixt our Tents and Troy
To morrow morning call some Knight to Armes,
That hath a stomacke, and such a one that dare
Maintaine I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell.

Farewell? who shall answer him?

I know not, 'tis put to Lottry: otherwise
He knew his man.

O meaning you, I wil go learne more of it.

After so many houres, liues, speeches spent,
Thus once againe sayes Nestor from the Greekes,
Deliuer Helen, and all damage else
(As honour, losse of time, trauaile, expence,
Wounds, friends, and what els deere that is consum'd
In hot digestion of this comorant Warre)
Shall be stroke off. Hector, what say you too't.

Though no man lesser feares the Greeks then I,
As farre as touches my particular: yet dread Priam,
There is no Lady of more softer bowels,
More spungie, to sucke in the sense of Feare,
More ready to cry out, who knowes what followes
Then Hector is: the wound of peace is surety.
Surety secure: but modest Doubt is cal'd
The Beacon of the wise: the tent that searches
To'th' bottome of the worst. Let Helen go,
Since the first sword was drawne about this question,
Euery tythe soule 'mongst many thousand dismes,
Hath bin as deere as Helen: I meane of ours:
If we haue lost so many tenths of ours
To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to vs
(Had it our name) the valew of one ten;
What merit's in that reason which denies
The yeelding of her vp,

Fie, fie, my Brother;
Weigh you the worth and honour of a King
(So great as our dread Father) in a Scale
Of common Ounces? Wil you with Counters summe
The past proportion of his infinite,
And buckle in a waste most fathomlesse,
With spannes and inches so diminutiue,
As feares and reasons? Fie for godly shame?

No maruel though you bite so sharp at reasons,
You are so empty of them, should not our Father
Beare the great sway of his affayres with reasons,
Because your speech hath none that tels him so.

You are for dreames & slumbers brother Priest
You furre your gloues with reason: here are your reasons
You know an enemy intends you harme,
You know, a sword imploy'd is perillous,
And reason flyes the obiect of all harme.
Who maruels then when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heeles:
Or like a Starre disorb'd. Nay, if we talke of Reason,
And flye like chidden Mercurie from Ioue,
Let's shut our gates and sleepe: Manhood and Honor
Should haue hard hearts, wold they but fat their thoghts
With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect,
Makes Liuers pale, and lustyhood deiect.

Brother, she is not worth
What she doth cost the holding.

What's aught, but as 'tis valew'd?

But value dwels not in particular will,
It holds his estimate and dignitie
As well, wherein 'tis precious of it selfe,
As in the prizer: 'Tis made Idolatrie,
To make the seruice greater then the God,
And the will dotes that is inclineable
To what infectiously it selfe affects,
Without some image of th' affected merit.

I take to day a Wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my Will; [YY3v]
My Will enkindled by mine eyes and eares,
Two traded Pylots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of Will, and Iudgement. How may I auoyde
(Although my will distaste what it elected)
The Wife I chose, there can be no euasion
To blench from this, and to stand firme by honour.
We turne not backe the Silkes vpon the Merchant
When we haue spoyl'd them; nor the remainder Viands
We do not throw in vnrespectiue same,
Because we now are full. It was thought meete
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greekes;
Your breath of full consent bellied his Sailes,
The Seas and Windes (old Wranglers) tooke a Truce,
And did him seruice; he touch'd the Ports desir'd,
And for an old Aunt whom the Greekes held Captiue,
He brought a Grecian Queen, whose youth & freshnesse
Wrinkles Apolloes, and makes stale the morning.
Why keepe we her? the Grecians keepe our Aunt:
Is she worth keeping? Why she is a Pearle,
Whose price hath launch'd aboue a thousand Ships,
And turn'd Crown'd Kings to Merchants.
If you'l auouch, 'twas wisedome Paris went,
(As you must needs, for you all cride, Go, go:)
If you'l confesse, he brought home Noble prize,
(As you must needs) for you all clapt your hands,
And cride inestimable; why do you now
The issue of your proper Wisedomes rate,
And do a deed that Fortune neuer did?
Begger the estimation which you priz'd,
Richer then Sea and Land? O Theft most base!
That we haue stolne what we do feare to keepe.
But Theeues vnworthy of a thing so stolne,
That in their Country did them that disgrace,
We feare to warrant in our Natiue place.

Cry Troyans, cry.

What noyse? what shreeke is this?

'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voyce.

Cry Troyans.

It is Cassandra.

Cry Troyans cry; lend me ten thousand eyes,
And I will fill them with Propheticke teares.

Peace sister, peace.

Virgins, and Boyes; mid-age & wrinkled old,
Soft infancie, that nothing can but cry,
Adde to my clamour: let vs pay betimes
A moity of that masse of moane to come.
Cry Troyans cry, practise your eyes with teares,
Troy must not be, nor goodly Illion stand,
Our fire-brand Brother Paris burnes vs all.
Cry Troyans cry, a Helen and a woe;
Cry, cry, Troy burnes, or else let Helen goe.

Now youthfull Troylus, do not these hie strains
Of diuination in our Sister, worke
Some touches of remorse? Or is your bloud
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason,
Nor feare of bad successe in a bad cause,
Can qualifie the same?

Why Brother Hector,
We may not thinke the iustnesse of each acte
Such, and no other then euent doth forme it,
Nor once deiect the courage of our mindes;
Because Cassandra's mad, her brainsicke raptures
Cannot distaste the goodnesse of a quarrell,
Which hath our seuerall Honours all engag'd
To make it gracious. For my priuate part,
I am no more touch'd, then all Priams sonnes,
And Ioue forbid there should be done among'st vs
Such things as might offend the weakest spleene,
To fight for, and maintaine.

Else might the world conuince of leuitie,
As well my vnder-takings as your counsels:
But I attest the gods, your full consent
Gaue wings to my propension, and cut off
All feares attending on so dire a proiect.
For what (alas) can these my single armes?
What propugnation is in one mans valour
To stand the push and enmity of those
This quarrell would excite? Yet I protest,
Were I alone to passe the difficulties,
And had as ample power, as I haue will,
Paris should ne're retract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuite.

Paris, you speake
Like one be-sotted on your sweet delights;
You haue the Hony still, but these the Gall,
So to be valiant, is no praise at all.

Sir, I propose not meerely to my selfe,
The pleasures such a beauty brings with it:
But I would haue the soyle of her faire Rape
Wip'd off in honourable keeping her.
What Treason were it to the ransack'd Queene,
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliuer her possession vp
On termes of base compulsion? Can it be,
That so degenerate a straine as this,
Should once set footing in your generous bosomes?
There's not the meanest spirit on our partie,
Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,
When Helen is defended: nor none so Noble,
Whose life were ill bestow'd, or death vnfam'd,
Where Helen is the subiect. Then (I say)
Well may we fight for her, whom we know well,
The worlds large spaces cannot paralell.

Paris and Troylus, you haue both said well:
And on the cause and question now in hand,
Haue gloz'd, but superficially; not much
Vnlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Vnfit to heare Morall Philosophie.
The Reasons you alledge, do more conduce
To the hot passion of distemp'red blood,
Then to make vp a free determination
'Twixt right and wrong: For pleasure, and reuenge,
Haue eares more deafe then Adders, to the voyce
Of any true decision. Nature craues
All dues be rendred to their Owners: now
What neerer debt in all humanity,
Then Wife is to the Husband? If this law
Of Nature be corrupted through affection,
And that great mindes of partiall indulgence,
To their benummed wills resist the same,
There is a Law in each well-ordred Nation,
To curbe those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refracturie.
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's King
(As it is knowne she is) these Morall Lawes
Of Nature, and of Nation, speake alowd
To haue her backe return'd. Thus to persist
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,
But makes it much more heauie. Hectors opinion [YY4]
Is this in way of truth: yet nere the lesse,
My spritely brethren, I propend to you
In resolution to keepe Helen still;
For 'tis a cause that hath no meane dependance,
Vpon our ioynt and seuerall dignities.

Why? there you toucht the life of our designe:
Were it not glory that we more affected,
Then the performance of our heauing spleenes,
I would not wish a drop of Troian blood,
Spent more in her defence. But worthy Hector,
She is a theame of honour and renowne,
A spurre to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whose present courage may beate downe our foes,
And fame in time to come canonize vs.
For I presume braue Hector would not loose
So rich aduantage of a promis'd glory,
As smiles vpon the fore-head of this action,
For the wide worlds reuenew.

I am yours,
You valiant off-spring of great Priamus,
I haue a roisting challenge sent among'st
The dull and factious nobles of the Greekes,
Will strike amazement to their drowsie spirits,
I was aduertiz'd, their Great generall slept,
Whil'st emulation in the armie crept:
This I presume will wake him.

How now Thersites? what lost in the Labyrinth of thy
furie? shall the Elephant Aiax carry it thus? he beates
me, and I raile at him: O worthy satisfaction, would it
were otherwise: that I could beate him, whil'st he rail'd
at me: Sfoote, Ile learne to coniure and raise Diuels, but
Ile see some issue of my spitefull execrations. Then ther's
Achilles, a rare Enginer. If Troy be not taken till these two
vndermine it, the wals will stand till they fall of them-
selues. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget
that thou art Ioue the King of gods: and Mercury, loose
all the Serpentine craft of thy Caduceus, if thou take not
that little little lesse then little wit from them that they
haue, which short-arm'd ignorance it selfe knowes, is so
abundant scarse, it will not in circumuention deliuer a
Flye from a Spider, without drawing the massie Irons and
cutting the web: after this, the vengeance on the whole
Camp, or rather the bone-ach, for that me thinkes is the
curse dependant on those that warre for a placket. I haue
said my prayers and diuell, enuie, say Amen: What ho?
my Lord Achilles?

Who's there? Thersites. Good Thersites come
in and raile.

If I could haue remembred a guilt counterfeit,
thou would'st not haue slipt out of my contemplation,
but it is no matter, thy selfe vpon thy selfe. The common
curse of mankinde, follie and ignorance be thine in great
reuenew; heauen blesse thee from a Tutor, and Discipline
come not neere thee. Let thy bloud be thy direction till
thy death, then if she that laies thee out sayes thou art a
faire coarse, Ile be sworne and sworne vpon't she neuer
shrowded any but Lazars, Amen. Wher's Achilles?

What art thou deuout? wast thou in a prayer?

I, the heauens heare me.

Who's there?

Thersites, my Lord.

Where, where, art thou come? why my cheese,
my digestion, why hast thou not seru'd thy selfe into my
Table, so many meales? Come, what's Agamemnon?

Thy Commander Achilles, then tell me Patro-clus,
what's Achilles?

Thy Lord Thersites: then tell me I pray thee,
what's thy selfe?

Thy knower Patroclus: then tell me Patroclus,
what art thou?

Thou maist tell that know'st.

O tell, tell.

Ile declin the whole question: Agamemnon com-
mands Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patroclus know-
er, and Patroclus is a foole.

You rascall.

Peace foole, I haue not done.

He is a priuiledg'd man, proceede Thersites.

Agamemnon is a foole, Achilles is a foole, Ther-sites
is a foole, and as aforesaid, Patroclus is a foole.

Deriue this? come?

Agamemnon is a foole to offer to command A-chilles,
Achilles is a foole to be commanded of Agamemnon,
Thersites is a foole to serue such a foole: and Patroclus is a
foole positiue.

Why am I a foole?

Make that demand to the Creator, it suffises me
thou art. Looke you, who comes here?

Patroclus, Ile speake with no body: come in
with me Thersites.

Here is such patcherie, such iugling, and such
knauerie: all the argument is a Cuckold and a Whore, a
good quarrel to draw emulations, factions, and bleede to
death vpon: Now the dry Suppeago on the Subiect, and
Warre and Lecherie confound all.

Where is Achilles?

Within his Tent, but ill dispos'd my Lord.

Let it be knowne to him that we are here:
He sent our Messengers, and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of him:
Let him be told of, so perchance he thinke
We dare not moue the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.

I shall so say to him.

We saw him at the opening of his Tent,
he is not sicke.

Yes, Lyon sicke, sicke of proud heart; you may
call it Melancholly if will fauour the man, but by my
head, it is pride; but why, why, let him show vs the cause?
A word my Lord.

What moues Aiax thus to bay at him?

Achilles hath inueigled his Foole from him.

Who, Thersites?

He.

Then will Aiax lacke matter, if he haue lost his
Argument.

No, you see he is his argument that has his argu-
ment Achilles.

All the better, their fraction is more our wish
then their faction; but it was a strong counsell that a
Foole could disunite.

The amitie that wisedome knits, not folly may
easily vntie. [YY4v]
Here comes Patroclus.

No Achilles with him?

The Elephant hath ioynts, but none for curtesie:
His legge are legs for necessitie, not for flight.

Achilles bids me say he is much sorry:
If any thing more then your sport and pleasure,
Did moue your greatnesse, and this noble State,
To call vpon him; he hopes it is no other,
But for your health, and your digestion sake;
An after Dinners breath.

Heare you Patroclus:
We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his euasion winged thus swift with scorne,
Cannot but flye our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason,
Why we ascribe it to him, yet all his vertues,
Not vertuously of his owne part beheld,
Doe in our eyes, begin to loose their glosse;
Yea, and like faire Fruit in an vnholdsome dish,
Are like to rot vntasted: goe and tell him,
We came to speake with him; and you shall not sinne,
If you doe say, we thinke him ouer proud,
And vnder honest; in selfe-assumption greater
Then in the note of iudgement: & worthier then himselfe
Here tends the sauage strangenesse he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command:
And vnder write in an obseruing kinde
His humorous predominance, yea watch
His pettish lines, his ebs, his flowes, as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tyde. Goe tell him this, and adde,
That if he ouerhold his price so much,
Weele none of him; but let him, like an Engin
Not portable, lye vnder this report.
Bring action hither, this cannot goe to warre:
A stirring Dwarfe, we doe allowance giue,
Before a sleeping Gyant: tell him so.

I shall, and bring his answer presently.

In second voyce weele not be satisfied,
We come to speake with him, Vlisses enter you.

What is he more then another?

No more then what he thinkes he is.

Is he so much, doe you not thinke, he thinkes
himselfe a better man then I am?

No question.

Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is?

No, Noble Aiax, you are as strong, as valiant, as
wise, no lesse noble, much more gentle, and altogether
more tractable.

Why should a man be proud? How doth pride
grow? I know not what it is.

Your minde is the cleerer Aiax, and your vertues
the fairer; he that is proud, eates vp himselfe; Pride is his
owne Glasse, his owne trumpet, his owne Chronicle, and
what euer praises it selfe but in the deede, deuoures the
deede in the praise.

I do hate a proud man, as I hate the ingendring
of Toades.

Yet he loues himselfe: is't not strange?

Achilles will not to the field to morrow.

What's his excuse?

He doth relye on none,
But carries on the streame of his dispose,
Without oberuance or respect of any,
In will peculiar, and in selfe admission.

Why, will he not vpon our faire request,
Vntent his person, and share the ayre with vs?

Things small as nothing, for requests sake onely
He makes important; possest he is with greatnesse,
And speakes not to himselfe, but with a pride
That quarrels at selfe-breath. Imagin'd wroth
Holds in his bloud such swolne and hot discourse,
That twixt his mentall and his actiue parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters gainst it selfe; what should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it,
Cry no recouery.

Let Aiax goe to him.
Deare Lord, goe you and greete him in his Tent;
'Tis said he holds you well, and will be led
At your request a little from himselfe.

O Agamemnon, let it not be so.
Weele consecrate the steps that Aiax makes,
When they goe from Achilles; shall the proud Lord,
That bastes his arrogance with his owne seame,
And neuer suffers matter of the world,
Enter his thoughts: saue such as doe reuolue
And ruminate himselfe. Shall he be worshipt,
Of that we hold an Idoll, more then hee?
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant Lord,
Must not so staule his Palme, nobly acquir'd,
Nor by my will assubiugate his merit,
As amply titled as Achilles is: by going to Achilles,
That were to enlard his fat already, pride,
And adde more Coles to Cancer, when he burnes
With entertaining great Hiperion.
This L[ord]. goe to him? Iupiter forbid,
And say in thunder, Achilles goe to him.

O this is well, he rubs the veine of him.

And how his silence drinkes vp this applause.

If I goe to him, with my armed fist, Ile pash him
ore the face.

O no, you shall not goe.

And a be proud with me, ile phese his pride: let
me goe to him.

Not for the worth that hangs vpon our quarrel.

A paultry insolent fellow.

How he describes himselfe.

Can he not be sociable?

The Rauen chides blacknessse.

He let his humours bloud.

He will be the Physitian that should be the pa-
tient.

And all men were a my minde.

Wit would be out of fashion.

A should not beare it so, a should eate Swords
first: shall pride carry it?

And 'twould, you'ld carry halfe.

A would haue ten shares.

I will knede him, Ile make him supple, hee's not
yet through warme.

Force him with praises, poure in, poure in: his am-
bition is dry.

My L[ord]. you feede too much on this dislike.

Our noble Generall, doe not doe so.

You must prepare to fight without Achilles.

Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harme.
Here is a man, but 'tis before his face,
I will be silent.

Wherefore should you so? [YY5]
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

'Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

A horson dog, that shal palter thus with vs, would
he were a Troian.

What a vice were it in Aiax now——

If he were proud.

Or couetous of praise.

I, or surley borne.

Or strange, or selfe affected.

Thank the heauens L[ord]. thou art of sweet composure;
Praise him that got thee, she that gaue thee sucke:
Fame be thy Tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition;
But he that disciplin'd thy armes to fight,
Let Mars deuide Eternity in twaine,
And giue him halfe, and for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo: his addition yeelde
To sinnowie Aiax: I will not praise thy wisdome,
Which like a bourne, a pale, a shore confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts; here's Nestor
Instructed by the Antiquary times:
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise.
But pardon Father Nestor, were your dayes
As greene as Aiax, and your braine so temper'd,
You should not haue the eminence of him,
But be as Aiax.

Shall I call you Father?

I my good Sonne.

Be rul'd by him Lord Aiax.

There is no tarrying here, the Hart Achilles
Keepes thicket: please it our Generall,
To call together all his state of warre,
Fresh Kings are come to Troy; to morrow
We must with all our maine of power stand fast:
And here's a Lord, come Knights from East to West,
And cull their flowre, Aiax shall cope the best.

Goe we to Counsaile, let Achilles sleepe;
Light Botes may saile swift, though greater bulkes draw
deepe.

Friend, you, pray you a word: Doe not you fol-
low the yong Lord Paris?

I sir, when he goes before me.

You depend vpon him I meane?

Sir, I doe depend vpon the Lord.

You depend vpon a noble Gentleman: I must
needes praise him.

The Lord be praised.

You know me, doe you not?

Faith sir, superficially.

Friend know me better, I am the Lord Pandarus.

I hope I shall know your honour better.

I doe desire it.

You are in the state of Grace?

Grace, not so friend, honor and Lordship are my
title: What Musique is this?

I doe but partly know sir: it is Musicke in parts.

Know you the Musitians.

Wholly sir.

Who play they to?

To the hearers sir.

At whose pleasure friend?

At mine sir, and theirs that loue Musicke.

Command, I meane friend.

Who shall I command sir?

Friend, we vnderstand not one another: I am too
courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whose request doe
these men play?

That's too't indeede sir: marry sir, at the request
of Paris my L[ord]. who's there in person; with him the mor-
tall Venus, the heart bloud of beauty, loues inuisible
soule.

Who? my Cosin Cressida.

No sir, Helen, could you not finde out that by
her attributes?

It should seeme fellow, that thou hast not seen the
Lady Cressida. I come to speake with Paris from the
Prince Troylus: I will make a complementall assault vpon
him, for my businesse seethes.

Sodden businesse, there's a stewed phrase indeede.

Faire be to you my Lord, and to all this faire com-
pany: faire desires in all faire measure fairely guide them,
especially to you faire Queene, faire thoughts be your
faire pillow.

Deere L[ord]. you are full of faire words.

You speake your faire pleasure sweete Queene:
faire Prince, here is good broken Musicke.

You haue broke it cozen: and by my life you
shall make it whole againe, you shall peece it out with a
peece of your performance. Nel, he is full of harmony.

Truely Lady no.

O sir.

Rude in sooth, in good sooth very rude.

Well said my Lord: well, you say so in fits.

I haue businesse to my Lord, deere Queene: my
Lord will you vouchsafe me a word.

Nay, this shall not hedge vs out, weele heare you
sing certainely.

Well sweete Queene you are pleasant with me,
but, marry thus my Lord, my deere Lord, and most estee-
med friend your brother Troylus.

My Lord Pandarus, hony sweete Lord.

Go too sweete Queene, goe to.
Commends himselfe most affectionately to you.

You shall not bob vs out of our melody:
If you doe, our melancholly vpon your head.

Sweete Queene, sweete Queene, that's a sweete
Queene Ifaith——

And to make a sweet Lady sad, is a sower offence.

Nay, that shall not serue your turne, that shall it
not in truth la. Nay, I care not for such words, no, no.
And my Lord he desires you, that if the King call for him
at Supper, you will make his excuse.

My Lord Pandarus?

What saies my sweete Queene, my very, very
sweete Queene?

What exploit's in hand, where sups he to night?

Nay but my Lord?

What saies my sweete Queene? my cozen will
fall out with you.

You must not know where he sups.

With my disposer Cressida.

No, no; no such matter, you are wide, come your
disposer is sicke.

Well, Ile make excuse.

I good my Lord: why should you say Cressida?
no, your poore disposer's sicke.

I spie. [YY5v]

You spie, what doe you spie: come, giue me an
Instrument now sweete Queene.

Why this is kindely done?

My Neece is horrible in loue with a thing you
haue sweete Queene.

She shall haue it my Lord, if it be not my Lord
Paris.

Hee? no, sheele none of him, they two are
twaine.

Falling in after falling out, may make them three.

Come, come, Ile heare no more of this, Ile sing
you a song now.

I, I, prethee now: by my troth sweet Lord thou
hast a fine fore-head.

I you may, you may.

Let thy song be loue: this loue will vndoe vs al.
Oh Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.

Loue? I that it shall yfaith.

I, good now loue, loue, no thing but loue.

In good troth it begins so.
Loue, loue, nothing but loue, still more:
For O loues Bow,
Shootes Bucke and Doe:
The Shaft confounds not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore:
These Louers cry, oh ho they dye;
Yet that which seemes the wound to kill,
Doth turne oh ho, to ha ha he:
So dying loue liues still,
Oh ho a while, but ha ha ha,
O he grones out for ha ha ha —— hey ho.

In loue yfaith to the very tip of the nose.

He eates nothing but doues loue, and that breeds
hot bloud, and hot bloud begets hot thoughts, and hot
thoughts beget hot deedes, and hot deedes is loue.

Is this the generation of loue? Hot bloud, hot
thoughts, and hot deedes, why they are Vipers, is Loue a
generation of Vipers?
Sweete Lord, whose a field to day?

Hector, Deiphoebus, Helenus, Anthenor, and all the
gallantry of Troy. I would faine haue arm'd to day, but
my Nell would not haue it so.
How chance my brother Troylus went not?

He hangs the lippe at something; you know all
Lord Pandarus?

Not I hony sweete Queene: I long to heare how
they sped to day:
Youle remember your brothers excuse?

To a hayre.

Farewell sweete Queene.

Commend me to your Neece.

I will sweete Queene.

They're come from fielde: let vs to Priams Hall
To greete the Warriers. Sweet Hellen, I must woe you,
To helpe vnarme our Hector: his stubborne Buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers toucht,
Shall more obey then to the edge of Steele,
Or force of Greekish sinewes: you shall doe more
Then all the Iland Kings, disarme great Hector.

'Twill make vs proud to be his seruant Paris:
Yea what he shall receiue of vs in duetie,
Giues vs more palme in beautie then we haue:
Yea ouershines our selfe.
Sweete aboue thought I loue thee.

How now, where's thy Maister, at my Couzen
Cressidas?

No sir, he stayes for you to conduct him thither.

O here he comes: How now, how now?

Sirra walke off.

Haue you seene my Cousin?

No Pandarus: I stalke about her doore
Like a strange soule vpon the Stigian bankes
Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon,
And giue me swift transportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the Lilly beds
Propos'd for the deseruer. O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupids shoulder plucke his painted wings,
And flye with me to Cressid.

Walke here ith 'Orchard, Ile bring her straight.

I am giddy; expectation whirles me round,
Th' imaginary relish is so sweete,
That it inchants my sence: what will it be
When that the watry pallats taste indeede
Loues thrice reputed Nectar? Death I feare me
Sounding distruction, or some ioy too fine,
Too subtile, potent, and too sharpe in sweetnesse,
For the capacitie of my ruder powers;
I feare it much, and I doe feare besides,
That I shall loose distinction in my ioyes,
As doth a battaile, when they charge on heapes
The enemy flying.

Shee's making her ready, sheele come straight; you
must be witty now, she does so blush, & fetches her winde
so short, as if she were fraid with a sprite: Ile fetch her; it
is the prettiest villaine, she fetches her breath so short as a
new tane Sparrow.

Euen such a passion doth imbrace my bosome:
My heart beates thicker then a feauorous pulse,
And all my powers doe their bestowing loose,
Like vassalage at vnawares encountring
The eye of Maiestie.

Come, come, what neede you blush?
Shames a babie; here she is now, sweare the oathes now
to her, that you haue sworne to me. What are you gone a-
gaine, you must be watcht ere you be made tame, must
you? come your wayes, come your wayes, and you draw
backward weele put you i'th fils: why doe you not speak
to her? Come draw this curtaine, & let's see your picture.
Alasse the day, how loath you are to offend day light? and
'twere darke you'ld close sooner: So, so, rub on, and kisse
the mistresse; how now, a kisse in fee-farme? build there
Carpenter, the ayre is sweete. Nay, you shall fight your
hearts out ere I part you. The Faulcon, as the Tercell, for
all the Ducks ith Riuer: go too, go too.

You haue bereft me of all words Lady.

Words pay no debts; giue her deedes: but sheele
bereaue you o'th' deeds too, if shee call your actiuity in
question: what billing againe? here's in witnesse where-
of the Parties interchangeably. Come in, come in, Ile go
get a fire?

Will you walke in my Lord?

O Cressida, how often haue I wisht me thus?

Wisht my Lord? the gods grant? O my Lord.

What should they grant? what makes this pret-
ty abruption: what too curious dreg espies my sweete La-
dy in the fountaine of our loue? [YY6]

More dregs then water, if my teares haue eyes.

Feares make diuels of Cherubins, they neuer see
truely.

Blinde feare, that seeing reason leads, findes safe
footing, then blinde reason, stumbling without feare: to
feare the worst, oft cures the worse.

Oh let my Lady apprehend no feare,
In all Cupids Pageant there is presented no monster.

Not nothing monstrous neither?

Nothing but our vndertakings, when we vowe
to weepe seas, liue in fire, eate rockes, tame Tygers; think-
ing it harder for our Mistresse to deuise imposition
inough, then for vs to vndergoe any difficultie imposed.
This is the monstruositie in loue Lady, that the will is in-
finite, and the execution confin'd; that the desire is bound-
lesse, and the act a slaue to limit.

They say all Louers sweare more performance
then they are able, and yet reserue an ability that they
neuer performe: vowing more then the perfection of ten;
and discharging lesse then the tenth part of one. They
that haue the voyce of Lyons, and the act of Hares: are
they not Monsters?

Are there such? such are not we: Praise vs as we
are tasted, allow vs as we proue: our head shall goe bare
till merit crowne it: no perfection in reuersion shall haue
a praise in present: wee will not name desert before his
birth, and being borne his addition shall be humble: few
words to faire faith. Troylus shall be such to Cressid, as
what enuie can say worst, shall be a mocke for his truth;
and what truth can speake truest, not truer then Troy-lus.

Will you walke in my Lord?

What blushing still? haue you not done talking
yet?

Wel! Vnckle, what folly I commit, I dedicate
to you.

I thanke you for that: if my Lord get a Boy of
you, youle giue him me: be true to my Lord, if he flinch,
chide me for it.

You know now your hostages: your Vnckles word
and my firme faith.

Nay, Ile giue my word for her too: our kindred
though they be long ere they are wooed, they are con-
stant being wonne: they are Burres I can tell you, they'le
sticke where they are throwne.

Boldnesse comes to mee now, and brings mee
heart: Prince Troylus, I haue lou'd you night and day, for
many weary moneths.

Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?

Hard to seeme won: but I was won my Lord
With the first glance; that euer pardon me,
If I confesse much you will play the tyrant:
I loue you now, but not till now so much
But I might maister it; infaith I lye:
My thoughts were like vnbrideled children grow
Too head-strong for their mother: see we fooles,
Why haue I blab'd: who shall be true to vs
When we are so vnsecret to our selues?
But though I lou'd you well, I woed you not,
And yet good faith I wisht my selfe a man;
Or that we women had mens priuiledge
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue,
For in this rapture I shall surely speake
The thing I shall repent: see, see, your silence
Comming in dumbnesse, from my weaknesse drawes
My soule of counsell from me. Stop my mouth.

And shall, albeit sweete Musicke issues thence.

Pretty yfaith.

My Lord, I doe beseech you pardon me,
'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kisse:
I am asham'd; O Heauens, what haue I done!
For this time will I take my leaue my Lord.

Your leaue sweete Cressid?

Leaue: and you take leaue till to morrow mor-
ning.

Pray you content you.

What offends you Lady?

Sir, mine owne company.

You cannot shun your selfe.

Let me goe and try:
I haue a kinde of selfe recides with you:
But an vnkinde selfe, that it selfe will leaue,
To be anothers foole. Where is my wit?
I would be gone: I speake I know not what.

Well know they what they speake, that speakes
so wisely.

Perchance my Lord, I shew more craft then loue,
And fell so roundly to a large confession,
To Angle for your thoughts: but you are wise,
Or else you loue not: for to be wise and loue,
Exceedes mans might, that dwels with gods aboue.

O that I thought it could be in a woman:
As if it can, I will presume in you,
To feede for aye her lampe and flames of loue.
To keepe her constancie in plight and youth,
Out-liuing beauties outward, with a minde
That doth renew swifter then blood decaies:
Or that perswasion could but thus conuince me,
That my integritie and truth to you,
Might be affronted with the match and waight
Of such a winnowed puritie in loue:
How were I then vp-lifted! but alas,
I am as true, as truths simplicitie,
And simpler then the infancie of truth.

In that Ile warre with you.

O vertuous fight,
When right with right wars who shall be most right:
True swaines in loue, shall in the world to come
Approue their truths by Troylus, when their times,
Full of protest, of oath and big compare;
Wants similes, truth tir'd with iteration,
As true as steele, as plantage to the Moone:
As Sunne to day: as Turtle to her mate:
As Iron to Adamant: as Earth to th 'Center:
Yet after all comparisons of truth,
(As truths authenticke author to be cited)
As true as Troylus, shall crowne vp the Verse,
And sanctifie the numbers.

Prophet may you be:
If I be false, or swerue a haire from truth,
When time is old and hath forgot it selfe:
When water drops haue worne the Stones of Troy;
And blinde obliuion swallow'd Cities vp;
And mightie States characterlesse are grated
To dustie nothing; yet let memory,
From false to false, among false Maids in loue,
Vpbraid my falsehood, when they'aue said as false,
As Aire, as Water, as Winde, as sandie earth;
As Foxe to Lambe; as Wolfe to Heifers Calfe;
Pard to the Hinde, or Stepdame to her Sonne;
Yea, let them say, to sticke the heart of falsehood, [YY6v]
As false as Cressid.

Go too, a bargaine made: seale it, seale it, Ile
be the witnesse here I hold your hand: here my Cousins,
if euer you proue false one to another, since I haue taken
such paines to bring you together, let all pittifull goers
betweene be cal'd to the worlds end after my name: call
them all Panders; let all constant men be Troylusses, all
false women Cressids, and all brokers betweene, Panders:
say, Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.
Whereupon I will shew you a Chamber, which bed, be-
cause it shall not speake of your prettie encounters, presse
it to death: away.
And Cupid grant all tong-tide Maidens heere,
Bed, Chamber, and Pander, to prouide this geere.

Now Princes for the seruice I haue done you,
Th' aduantage of the time promps me aloud,
To call for recompence: appeare it to your minde,
That through the sight I beare in things to loue,
I haue abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
Incur'd a Traitors name, expos'd my selfe,
From certaine and possest conueniences,
To doubtfull fortunes, sequestring from me all
That time, acquaintance, custome and condition,
Made tame, and most familiar to my nature:
And here to doe you seruice am become,
As new into the world, strange, vnacquainted.
I doe beseech you, as in way of taste,
To giue me now a little benefit:
Out of those many registred in promise,
Which you say, liue to come in my behalfe.

What would'st thou of vs Troian? make
demand?

You haue a Troian prisoner, cal'd Anthenor,
Yesterday tooke: Troy holds him very deere.
Oft haue you (often haue you, thankes therefore)
Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange.
Whom Troy hath still deni'd: but this Anthenor,
I know is such a wrest in their affaires;
That their negotiations all must slacke,
Wanting his mannage: and they will almost,
Giue vs a Prince of blood, a Sonne of Priam,
In change of him. Let him be sent great Princes,
And he shall buy my Daughter: and her presence,
Shall quite strike off all seruice I haue done,
In most accepted paine.

Let Diomedes beare him,
And bring vs Cressid hither: Calcas shall haue
What he requests of vs: good Diomed
Furnish you fairely for this enterchange;
Withall bring word, if Hector will to morrow
Be answer'd in his challenge. Aiax is ready.

This shall I vndertake, and 'tis a burthen
Which I am proud to beare.

Achilles stands i'th entrance of his Tent;
Please it our Generall to passe strangely by him,
As if he were forgot: and Princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard vpon him;
I will come last, 'tis like heele question me,
Why such vnplausiue eyes are bent? why turn'd on him?
If so, I haue derision medicinable,
To vse betweene your strangenesse and his pride,
Which his owne will shall haue desire to drinke;
It may doe good, pride hath no other glasse
To show it selfe, but pride: for supple knees,
Feede arrogance, and are the proud mans fees.

Weele execute your purpose, and put on
A forme of strangenesse as we passe along,
So doe each Lord, and either greete him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more,
Then if not lookt on. I will lead the way.

What comes the Generall to speake with me?
You know my minde, Ile fight no more 'gainst Troy.

What saies Achilles, would he ought with vs?

Would you my Lord ought with the Generall?

No.

Nothing my Lord.

The better.

Good day, good day.

How doe you? how doe you?

What, do's the Cuckold scorne me?

How now Patroclus?

Good morrow Aiax?

Ha.

Good morrow.

I, and good next day too.

What meane these fellowes? know they not
Achilles?

They passe by strangely: they were vs'd to bend
To send their smiles before them to Achilles:
To come as humbly as they vs'd to creepe to holy Altars.

What am I poore of late?
'Tis certaine, greatnesse once falne out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too: what the declin'd is,
He shall as soone reade in the eyes of others,
As feele in his owne fall: for men like butter-flies,
Shew not their mealie wings, but to the Summer:
And not a man for being simply man,
Hath any honour; but honour'd for those honours
That are without him; as place, riches, and fauour,
Prizes of accident, as oft as merit:
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers;
The loue that leand on them as slippery too,
Doth one plucke downe another, and together
Dye in the fall. But 'tis not so with me;
Fortune and I are friends, I doe enioy
At ample point, all that I did possesse,
Saue these mens lookes: who do me thinkes finde out
Something not worth in me such rich beholding,
As they haue often giuen. Here is Vlisses,
Ile interrupt his reading: how now Vlisses?

Now great Thetis Sonne.

What are you reading?

A strange fellow here
Writes me, that man, how dearely euer parted,
How much in hauing, or without, or in,
Cannot make boast to haue that which he hath;
Nor feeles not what he owes, but by reflection:
As when his vertues shining vpon others,
Heate them, and they retort that heate againe
To the first giuer.

This is not strange Vlisses:
The beautie that is borne here in the face,
The bearer knowes not, but commends it selfe,
Not going from it selfe: but eye to eye oppos'd, [YYY1]
Salutes each other with each others forme.
For speculation turnes not to it selfe,
Till it hath trauail'd, and is married there
Where it may see it selfe: this is not strange at all.

I doe not straine it at the position,
It is familiar; but at the Authors drift,
Who in his circumstance, expresly proues
That no man is the Lord of any thing,
(Though in and of him there is much consisting,)
Till he communicate his parts to others:
Nor doth he of himselfe know them for ought,
Till he behold them formed in th 'applause,
Where they are extended: who like an arch reuerb'rate
The voyce againe; or like a gate of steele,
Fronting the Sunne, receiues and renders backe
His figure, and his heate. I was much rapt in this,
And apprehended here immediately:
The vnknowne Aiax;
Heauens what a man is there? a very Horse,
That has he knowes not what. Nature, what things there are.
Most abiect in regard, and deare in vse.
What things againe most deere in the esteeme,
And poore in worth: now shall we see to morrow,
An act that very chance doth throw vpon him?
Aiax renown'd? O heauens, what some men doe,
While some men leaue to doe!
How some men creepe in skittish fortunes hall,
Whiles others play the Ideots in her eyes:
How one man eates into anothers pride,
While pride is feasting in his wantonnesse
To see these Grecian Lords; why, euen already,
They clap the lubber Aiax on the shoulder,
As if his foote were on braue Hectors brest,
And great Troy shrinking.

I doe beleeue it:
For they past by me, as mysers doe by beggars,
Neither gaue to me good word, nor looke:
What are my deedes forgot?

Time hath (my Lord) a wallet at his backe,
Wherein he puts almes for obliuion:
A great siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deedes past,
Which are deuour'd as fast as they are made,
Forgot as soone as done: perseuerance, deere my Lord,
Keepes honor bright, to haue done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rustie male,
In monumentall mockrie: take the instant way,
For honour trauels in a straight so narrow,
Where one but goes a breast, keepe then the paths
For emulation hath a thousand Sonnes,
That one by one pursue; if you giue way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forth right;
Like to an entred Tyde, they all rush by,
And leaue you hindmost:
Or like gallant Horse falne in first ranke,
Lye there for pauement to the abiect, neere
Ore-run and trampled on: then what they doe in present,
Though lesse then yours in past, must ore-top yours:
For time is like a fashionable Hoste,
That slightly shakes his parting Guest by th' hand;
And with his armes out-stretcht, as he would flye,
Graspes in the commer: the welcome euer smiles,
And farewels goes out sighing: O let not vertue seeke
Remuneration for the thing it was: for beautie, wit,
High birth, vigor of bone, desert in seruice,
Loue, friendship, charity, are subiects all
To enuious and calumniating time:
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin:
That all with one consent praise new borne gaudes,
Though they are made and moulded of things past,
And goe to dust, that is a little guilt,
More laud then guilt oredusted.
The present eye praises the present obiect:
Then maruell not thou great and compleat man,
That all the Greekes begin to worship Aiax;
Since things in motion begin to catch the eye,
Then what not stirs: the cry went out on thee,
And still it might, and yet it may againe,
If thou would'st not entombe thy selfe aliue,
And case thy reputation in thy Tent;
Whose glorious deedes, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselues,
And draue great Mars to faction.

Of this my priuacie,
I haue strong reasons.

But 'gainst your priuacie
The reasons are more potent and heroycall:
'Tis knowne Achilles, that you are in loue
With one of Priams daughters.

Ha? knowne?

Is that a wonder?
The prouidence that's in a watchfull State,
Knowes almost euery graine of Plutoes gold;
Findes bottome in th' vncomprehensiue deepes;
Keepes place with thought; and almost like the gods,
Doe thoughts vnuaile in their dumbe cradles:
There is a mysterie (with whom relation
durst neuer meddle) in the soule of State;
Which hath an operation more diuine,
Then breath or pen can giue expressure to:
All the commerse that you haue had with Troy,
As perfectly is ours, as yours, my Lord.
And better would it fit Achilles much,
To throw downe Hector then Polixena.
But it must grieue yong Pirhus now at home,
When fame shall in her Iland sound her trumpe;
And all the Greekish Girles shall tripping sing,
Great Hectors sister did Achilles winne;
But our great Aiax brauely beate downe him.
Farewell my Lord: I as your louer speake;
The foole slides ore the Ice that you should breake.

To this effect Achilles haue I mou'd you;
A woman impudent and mannish growne,
Is not more loth'd, then an effeminate man,
In time of action: I stand condemn'd for this;
They thinke my little stomacke to the warre,
And your great loue to me, restraines you thus:
Sweete, rouse your selfe; and the weake wanton Cupid
Shall from your necke vnloose his amorous fould,
And like a dew drop from the Lyons mane,
Be shooke to ayrie ayre.

Shall Aiax fight with Hector?

I, and perhaps receiue much honor by him.

I see my reputation is at stake,
My fame is shrowdly gored.

O then beware:
Those wounds heale ill, that men doe giue themselues:
Omission to doe what is necessary,
Seales a commission to a blanke of danger,
And danger like an ague subtly taints
Euen then when we sit idely in the sunne.

Goe call Thersites hither sweet Patroclus, [YYY1v]
Ile send the foole to Aiax, and desire him
T' inuite the Troian Lords after the Combat
To see vs here vnarm'd: I haue a womans longing,
An appetite that I am sicke withall,
To see great Hector in his weedes of peace;
To talke with him, and to behold his visage,
Euen to my full of view. A labour sau'd.

A wonder.

What?

Aiax goes vp and downe the field, asking for
himselfe.

How so?

Hee must fight singly to morrow with Hector,
and is so prophetically proud of an heroicall cudgelling,
that he raues in saying nothing.

How can that be?

Why he stalkes vp and downe like a Peacock, a
stride and a stand: ruminates like an hostesse, that hath no
Arithmatique but her braine to set downe her recko-
ning: bites his lip with a politique regard, as who should
say, there were wit in his head and twoo'd out; and so
there is: but it lyes as coldly in him, as fire in a flint,
which will not shew without knocking. The mans vn-
done for euer; for if Hector breake not his necke i'th' com-
bat, heele break't himselfe in vaine-glory. He knowes
not mee: I said, good morrow Aiax; And he replyes,
thankes Agamemnon. What thinke you of this man,
that takes me for the Generall? Hee's growne a very
land-fish, languagelesse, a monster: a plague of o-
pinion, a man may weare it on both sides like a leather
Ierkin.

Thou must be my Ambassador to him Thersites.

Who, I: why, heele answer no body: he pro-
fesses notanswering; speaking is for beggers: he weares
his tongue in's armes: I will put on his presence; let Pa-troclus
make his demands to me, you shall see the Page-
ant of Aiax.

To him Patroclus; tell him, I humbly desire the
valiant Aiax, to inuite the most valorous Hector, to come
vnarm'd to my Tent, and to procure safe conduct for his
person, of the magnanimious and most illustrious, sixe or
seauen times honour'd Captaine, Generall of the Grecian
Armie Agamemnon, &c. doe this.

Ioue blesse great Aiax.

Hum.

I come from the worthy Achilles.

Ha?

Who most humbly desires you to inuite Hector
to his Tent.

Hum.

And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.

Agamemnon?

I my Lord.

Ha?

What say you too't.

God buy you with all my heart.

Your answer sir.

If to morrow be a faire day, by eleuen a clocke
it will goe one way or other; howsoeuer, he shall pay for
me ere he has me.

Your answer sir.

Fare you well withall my heart.

Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

No, but he's out a tune thus: what musicke will
be in him when Hector has knockt out his braines, I know
not: but I am sure none, vnlesse the Fidler Apollo get his
sinewes to make catlings on.

Come, thou shalt beare a Letter to him
straight.

Let me carry another to his Horse; for that's the
more capable creature.

My minde is troubled like a Fountaine stir'd,
And I my selfe see not the bottome of it.

Would the Fountaine of your minde were cleere
againe, that I might water an Asse at it: I had rather be a
Ticke in a Sheepe, then such a valiant ignorance.

See hoa, who is that there?

It is the Lord Aeneas.

Is the Prince there in person?
Had I so good occasion to lye long
As you Prince Paris, nothing but heauenly businesse,
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

That's my minde too: good morrow Lord
Aeneas.

A valiant Greeke Aeneas, take his hand,
Witnesse the processe of your speech within;
You told how Diomed, in a whole weeke by dayes
Did haunt you in the Field.

Health to you valiant sir,
During all question of the gentle truce:
But when I meete you arm'd, as blacke defiance,
As heart can thinke, or courage execute.

The one and other Diomed embraces,
Our blouds are now in calme; and so long health:
But when contention, and occasion meetes,
By Ioue, Ile play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuite and pollicy.

And thou shalt hunt a Lyon that will flye
With his face backward, in humaine gentlenesse:
Welcome to Troy; now by Anchises life,
Welcome indeede: by Venus hand I sweare,
No man aliue can loue in such a sort,
The thing he meanes to kill, more excellently.

We simpathize. Ioue let Aeneas liue
(If to my sword his fate be not the glory)
A thousand compleate courses of the Sunne,
But in mine emulous honor let him dye:
With euery ioynt a wound, and that to morrow.

We know each other well.

We doe, and long to know each other worse.

This is the most, despightful'st gentle greeting;
The noblest hatefull loue, that ere I heard of.
What businesse Lord so early?

I was sent for to the King; but why, I know not.

His purpose meets you; it was to bring this Greek
To Calcha's house; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Anthenor, the faire Cressid:
Lets haue your company; or if you please,
Haste there before vs. I constantly doe thinke,
(Or rather call my thought a certaine knowledge)
My brother Troylus lodges there to night.
Rouse him, and giue him note of our approach,
With the whole quality whereof, I feare
We shall be much vnwelcome.

That I assure you:
Troylus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Then Cressid borne from Troy. [YYY2]

There is no helpe:
The bitter disposition of the time will haue it so.
On Lord, weele follow you.

Good morrow all.

And tell me noble Diomed: faith tell me true,
Euen in the soule of sound good fellowship,
Who in your thoughts merits faire Helen most?
My selfe, or Menelaus?

Both alike.
He merits well to haue her, that doth seeke her,
Not making any scruple of her soylure,
With such a hell of paine, and world of charge.
And you as well to keepe her, that defend her,
Not pallating the taste of her dishonour,
With such a costly losse of wealth and friends:
He like a puling Cuckold, would drinke vp
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed peece:
You like a letcher, out of whorish loynes,
Are pleas'd to breede out your inheritors:
Both merits poyz'd, each weighs no lesse nor more,
But he as he, which heauier for a whore.

You are too bitter to your country-woman.

Shee's bitter to her countrey: heare me Paris,
For euery false drop in her baudy veines,
A Grecians life hath sunke: for euery scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,
A Troian hath beene slaine. Since she could speake,
She hath not giuen so many good words breath,
As for her, Greekes and Troians suffred death.

Faire Diomed, you doe as chapmen doe,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:
But we in silence hold this vertue well;
Weele not commend, what we intend to sell.
Here lyes our way.

Deere trouble not your selfe: the morne is cold.

Then sweet my Lord, Ile call mine Vnckle down;
He shall vnbolt the Gates.

Trouble him not:
To bed, to bed: sleepe kill those pritty eyes,
And giue as soft attachment to thy sences,
As Infants empty of all thought.

Good morrow then.

I prithee now to bed.

Are you a weary of me?

O Cressida! but that the busie day
Wak't by the Larke, hath rouz'd the ribauld Crowes,
And dreaming night will hide our eyes no longer:
I would not from thee.

Night hath beene too briefe.

Beshrew the witch! with venemous wights she stayes,
As hidiously as hell; but flies the graspes of loue,
With wings more momentary, swift then thought:
You will catch cold, and curse me.

Prithee tarry, you men will neuer tarry;
O foolish Cressid, I might haue still held off,
And then you would haue tarried. Harke, ther's one vp?

What's all the doores open here?

It is your Vnckle.

A pestilence on him: now will he be mocking:
I shall haue such a life.

How now, how now? how goe maiden-heads?
Heare you Maide: wher's my cozin Cressid?

Go hang your self, you naughty mocking Vnckle:
You bring me to doo —— and then you floute me too.

To do what? to do what? let her say what:
What haue I brought you to doe?

Come, come, beshrew your heart: youle nere be
good, nor suffer others.

Ha, ha: alas poore wretch: a poore Chipochia, hast
not slept to night? would he not (a naughty man) let it
sleepe: a bug-beare take him.

Did not I tell you? would he were knockt ith'
head. Who's that at doore? good Vnckle goe and see.
My Lord, come you againe into my Chamber:
You smile and mocke me, as if I meant naughtily.

Ha, ha.

Come you are deceiu'd, I thinke of no such thing.
How earnestly they knocke: pray you come in.
I would not for halfe Troy haue you seene here.

Who's there? what's the matter? will you beate
downe the doore? How now, what's the matter?

Good morrow Lord, good morrow.

Who's there my Lord Aeneas? by my troth I
knew you not: what newes with you so early?

Is not Prince Troylus here?

Here? what should he doe here?

Come he is here, my Lord, doe not deny him:
It doth import him much to speake with me.

Is he here say you? 'tis more then I know, Ile be
sworne: For my owne part I came in late: what should
he doe here?

Who, nay then: Come, come, youle doe him
wrong, ere y'are ware: youle be so true to him, to be
false to him: Doe not you know of him, but yet goe fetch
him hither, goe.

How now, what's the matter?

My Lord, I scarce haue leisure to salute you,
My matter is so rash: there is at hand,
Paris your brother, and Deiphoebus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Anthenor
Deliuer'd to vs, and for him forth-with,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this houre,
We must giue vp to Diomeds hand
The Lady Cressida.

Is it concluded so?

By Priam, and the generall state of Troy,
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

How my atchieuements mocke me;
I will goe meete them: and my Lord Aeneas,
We met by chance; you did not finde me here.

Good, good, my Lord, the secrets of nature
Haue not more gift in taciturnitie.

Is't possible? no sooner got but lost: the diuell
take Anthenor; the yong Prince will goe mad: a plague
vpon Anthenor; I would they had brok's necke.

How now? what's the matter? who was here?

Ah, ha!

Why sigh you so profoundly? wher's my Lord?
gone? tell me sweet Vnckle, what's the matter?

Would I were as deepe vnder the earth as I am
aboue.

O the gods! what's the matter?

Prythee get thee in: would thou had'st nere been
borne; I knew thou would'st be his death. O poore Gen-
tleman: a plague vpon Anthenor. [YYY2v]

Good Vnckle I beseech you, on my knees, I be-
seech you what's the matter?

Thou must be gone wench, thou must be gone;
thou art chang'd for Anthenor: thou must to thy Father,
and be gone from Troylus: 'twill be his death: 'twill be
his baine, he cannot beare it.

O you immortall gods! I will not goe.

Thou must.

I will not Vnckle: I haue forgot my Father:
I know no touch of consanguinitie:
No kin, no loue, no bloud, no soule, so neere me,
As the sweet Troylus: O you gods diuine!
Make Cressids name the very crowne of falshood!
If euer she leaue Troylus: time, force and death,
Do to this body what extremitie you can;
But the strong base and building of my loue,
Is as the very Center of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. I will goe in and weepe.

Doe, doe.

Teare my bright heire, and scratch my praised
cheekes,
Cracke my cleere voyce with sobs, and breake my heart
With sounding Troylus. I will not goe from Troy.

It is great morning, and the houre prefixt
Of her deliuerie to this valiant Greeke
Comes fast vpon: good my brother Troylus,
Tell you the Lady what she is to doe,
And hast her to the purpose.

Walke into her house.
Ile bring her to the Grecian presently;
And to his hand, when I deliuer her,
Thinke it an Altar, and thy brother Troylus
A Priest, there offring to it his heart.

I know what 'tis to loue,
And would, as I shall pittie, I could helpe.
Please you walke in, my Lords.

Be moderate, be moderate.

Why tell you me of moderation?
The griefe is fine, full perfect that I taste,
And no lesse 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 weake and colder pallat,
The like alaiment could I giue my griefe:
My loue admits no qualifying crosse;
No more my griefe, in such a precious losse.

Here, here, here, he comes, a sweet ducke.

O Troylus, Troylus!

What a paire of spectacles is here? let me em-
brace too: oh hart, as the goodly saying is; O heart, hea-
uie heart, why sighest thou without breaking? where he
answers againe; because thou canst not ease thy smart by
friendship, not by speaking: there was neuer a truer rime;
let vs cast away nothing, for we may liue to haue neede
of such a Verse: we see it, we see it: how now Lambs?

Cressid: I loue thee in so strange a puritie;
That the blest gods, as angry with my fancie,
More bright in zeale, then the deuotion which
Cold lips blow to their Deities: take thee from me.

Haue the gods enuie?

I, I, I, I, 'tis too plaine a case.

And is it true, that I must goe from Troy?

A hatefull truth.

What, and from Troylus too?

From Troy, and Troylus.

Ist possible?

And sodainely, where iniurie of chance
Puts backe leaue-taking, iustles roughly by
All time of pause; rudely beguiles our lips
Of all reioyndure: forcibly preuents
Our lockt embrasures; strangles our deare vowes,
Euen in the birth of our owne laboring breath.
We two, that with so many thousand sighes
Did buy each other, must poorely sell our selues,
With the rude breuitie and discharge of our
Iniurious time; now with a robbers haste
Crams his rich theeuerie vp, he knowes not how.
As many farwels as be stars in heauen,
With distinct breath, and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles vp into a loose adiew;
And scants vs with a single famisht kisse,
Distasting with the salt of broken teares.

My Lord, is the Lady ready?

Harke, you are call'd: some say the genius so
Cries, come to him that instantly must dye.
Bid them haue patience: she shall come anon.

Where are my teares? raine, to lay this winde,
Or my heart will be blowne vp by the root.

I must then to the Grecians?

No remedy.

A wofull Cressid 'mong'st the merry Greekes.

When shall we see againe?

Here me my loue: be thou but true of heart.

I true? how now? what wicked deeme is this?

Nay, we must vse expostulation kindely,
For it is parting from vs:
I speake not, be thou true, as fearing thee:
For I will throw my Gloue to death himselfe,
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.

O you shall be expos'd, my Lord to dangers
As infinite, as imminent: but Ile be true.

And Ile grow friend with danger;
Weare this Sleeue.

And you this Gloue.
When shall I see you?

I will corrupt the Grecian Centinels,
To giue thee nightly visitation.
But yet be true.

O heauens: be true againe?

Heare why I speake it; Loue:
The Grecian youths are full of qualitie,
Their louing well compos'd, with guift of nature,
Flawing and swelling ore with Arts and exercise:
How nouelties may moue, and parts with person.
Alas, a kinde of godly iealousie;
Which I beseech you call a vertuous sinne:
Makes me affraid.

O heauens, you loue me not!

Dye I a villaine then:
In this I doe not call your faith in question
So mainely as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heele the high Lauolt; nor sweeten talke;
Nor play at subtill games; faire vertues all; [YYY3]
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:
But I can tell that in each grace of these,
There lurkes a still and dumb-discoursiue diuell,
That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.

Doe you thinke I will:

No, but something may be done that we wil not:
And sometimes we are diuels to our selues,
When we will tempt the frailtie of our powers,
Presuming on their changefull potencie.

Nay, good my Lord?

Come kisse, and let vs part.

Brother Troylus?

Good brother come you hither,
And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you.

My Lord, will you be true?

Who I? alas it is my vice, my fault:
Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
I, with great truth, catch meere simplicitie;
Whil'st some with cunning guild their copper crownes,
With truth and plainnesse I doe weare mine bare:

Feare not my truth; the morrall of my wit
Is plaine and true, ther's all the reach of it.
Welcome sir Diomed, here is the Lady
Which for Antenor, we deliuer you.
At the port (Lord) Ile giue her to thy hand,
And by the way possesse thee what she is.
Entreate her faire; and by my soule, faire Greeke,
If ere thou stand at mercy of my Sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Illion?

Faire Lady Cressid,
So please you saue the thankes this Prince expects:
The lustre in your eye, heauen in your cheeke,
Pleades your faire visage, and to Diomed
You shall be mistresse, and command him wholly.

Grecian, thou do'st not vse me curteously,
To shame the seale of my petition towards,
I praising her. I tell thee Lord of Greece:
Shee is as farre high soaring o're thy praises,
As thou vnworthy to be cal'd her seruant:
I charge thee vse her well, euen for my charge:
For by the dreadfull Pluto, if thou do'st not,
(Though the great bulke Achilles be thy guard)
Ile cut thy throate.

Oh be not mou'd Prince Troylus;
Let me be priuiledg'd by my place and message,
To be a speaker free? when I am hence,
Ile answer to my lust: and know my Lord;
Ile nothing doe on charge: to her owne worth
She shall be priz'd: but that you say, be't so;
Ile speake it in my spirit and honor, no.

Come to the Port. Ile tell thee Diomed,
This braue, shall oft make thee to hide thy head:
Lady, giue me your hand, and as we walke,
To our owne selues bend we our needefull talke.

Harke, Hectors Trumpet.

How haue we spent this morning
The Prince must thinke me tardy and remisse,
That swore to ride before him in the field.

'Tis Troylus fault: come, come, to field with him.

Let vs make ready straight.

Yea, with a Bridegroomes fresh alacritie
Let vs addresse to tend on Hectors heeles:
The glory of our Troy doth this day lye
On his faire worth, and single Chiualrie.

Here art thou in appointment fresh and faire,
Anticipating time. With starring courage,
Giue with thy Trumpet a loud note to Troy
Thou dreadfull Aiax, that the appauled aire
May pierce the head of the great Combatant,
And hale him hither.

Thou, Trumpet, ther's my purse;
Now cracke thy lungs, and split thy brasen pipe:
Blow villaine, till thy sphered Bias cheeke
Out-swell the collicke of puft Aquilon:
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout bloud:
Thou blowest for Hector.

No Trumpet answers.

'Tis but early dayes.

Is not yong Diomed with Calcas daughter?

'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate,
He rises on the toe: that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.

Is this the Lady Cressid?

Euen she.

Most deerely welcome to the Greekes, sweete
Lady.

Our Generall doth salute you with a kisse.

Yet is the kindenesse but particular; 'twere bet-
ter she were kist in generall.

And very courtly counsell: Ile begin. So much
for Nestor.

Ile take that winter from your lips faire Lady
Achilles bids you welcome.

I had good argument for kissing once.

But that's no argument for kissing now;
For thus pop't Paris in his hardiment.

Oh deadly gall, and theame of all our scornes,
For which we loose our heads, to gild his hornes.

The first was Menelaus kisse, this mine:
Patroclus kisses you.

Oh this is trim.

Paris and I kisse euermore for him.

Ile haue my kisse sir: Lady by your leaue.

In kissing doe you render, or receiue.

Both take and giue.

Ile make my match to liue,
The kisse you take is better then you giue: therefore no
kisse.

Ile giue you boote, Ile giue you three for one.

You are an odde man, giue euen, or giue none.

An odde man Lady, euery man is odde.

No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true,
That you are odde, and he is euen with you.

You fillip me a'th' head.

No, Ile be sworne.

It were no match, your naile against his horne:
May I sweete Lady beg a kisse of you?

You may.

I doe desire it.

Why begge then?

Why then for Venus sake, giue me a kisse:
When Hellen is a maide againe, and his——

I am your debtor, claime it when 'tis due. [YYY3v]

Neuer's my day, and then a kisse of you.

Lady a word, Ile bring you to your Father.

A woman of quicke sence.

Fie, fie, vpon her:
Ther's a language in her eye, her cheeke, her lip;
Nay, her foote speakes, her wanton spirites looke out
At euery ioynt, and motiue of her body:
Oh these encounterers so glib of tongue,
That giue a coasting welcome ere it comes;
And wide vnclaspe the tables of their thoughts,
To euery tickling reader: set them downe,
For sluttish spoyles of opportunitie:
And daughters of the game.

The Troians Trumpet.

Yonder comes the troope.

Haile all you state of Greece: what shalbe done
To him that victory commands? or doe you purpose,
A victor shall be knowne: will you the Knights
Shall to the edge of all extremitie
Pursue each other; or shall be diuided
By any voyce, or order of the field: Hector bad aske?

Which way would Hector haue it?

He cares not, heele obey conditions.

'Tis done like Hector, but securely done,
A little proudly, and great deale disprising
The Knight oppos'd.

If not Achilles sir, what is your name?

If not Achilles, nothing.

Therefore Achilles: but what ere, know this,
In the extremity of great and little:
Valour and pride excell themselues in Hector;
The one almost as infinite as all;
The other blanke as nothing: weigh him well:
And that which lookes like pride, is curtesie:
This Aiax is halfe made of Hectors bloud;
In loue wherof, halfe Hector staies at home:
Halfe heart, halfe hand, halfe Hector, comes to seeke
This blended Knight, halfe Troian, and halfe Greeke.

A maiden battaile then? O I perceiue you.

Here is sir, Diomed: goe gentle Knight,
Stand by our Aiax: as you and Lord Aeneas
Consent vpon the order of their fight,
So be it: either to the vttermost,
Or else a breach: the Combatants being kin,
Halfe stints their strife, before their strokes begin.

They are oppos'd already.

What Troian is that same that lookes so heauy?

The yongest Sonne of Priam;
A true Knight; they call him Troylus;
Not yet mature, yet matchlesse, firme of word,
Speaking in deedes, and deedelesse in his tongue;
Not soone prouok't, nor being prouok't, soone calm'd;
His heart and hand both open, and both free:
For what he has, he giues; what thinkes, he shewes;
Yet giues he not till iudgement guide his bounty,
Nor dignifies an impaire thought with breath:
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;
For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes
To tender obiects; but he, in heate of action,
Is more vindecatiue then iealous loue.
They call him Troylus; and on him erect,
A second hope, as fairely built as Hector.
Thus saies Aeneas, one that knowes the youth,
Euen to his inches: and with priuate soule,
Did in great Illion thus translate him to me.

They are in action.

Now Aiax hold thine owne.

Hector, thou sleep'st, awake thee.

His blowes are wel dispos'd there Aiax.

You must no more.

Princes enough, so please you.

I am not warme yet, let vs fight againe.

As Hector pleases.

Why then will I no more:
Thou art great Lord, my Fathers sisters Sonne;
A cousen german to great Priams seede:
The obligation of our bloud forbids
A gorie emulation 'twixt vs twaine:
Were thy commixion, Greeke and Troian so,
That thou could'st say, this hand is Grecian all,
And this is Troian: the sinewes of this Legge,
All Greeke, and this all Troy: my Mothers bloud
Runs on the dexter cheeke, and this sinister
Bounds in my fathers: by Ioue multipotent,
Thou should'st not beare from me a Greekish member
Wherein my sword had not impressure made
Of our ranke feud: but the iust gods gainsay,
That any drop thou borrowd'st from thy mother,
My sacred Aunt, should by my mortall Sword
Be drained. Let me embrace thee Aiax:
By him that thunders, thou hast lustie Armes;
Hector would haue them fall vpon him thus.
Cozen, all honor to thee.

I thanke thee Hector:
Thou art too gentle, and too free a man:
I came to kill thee Cozen, and beare hence
A great addition, earned in thy death.

Not Neoptolymus so mirable,
On whose bright crest, fame with her lowd'st (Oyes)
Cries, This is he; could'st promise to himselfe,
A thought of added honor, torne from Hector.

There is expectance here from both the sides,
What further you will doe?

Weele answere it:
The issue is embracement: Aiax, farewell.

If I might in entreaties finde successe,
As seld I haue the chance; I would desire
My famous Cousin to our Grecian Tents.

'Tis Agamemnons wish, and great Achilles
Doth long to see vnarm'd the valiant Hector.

Aeneas, call my brother Troylus to me:
And signifie this louing enterview
To the expecters of our Troian part:
Desire them home. Giue me thy hand, my Cousin:
I will goe eate with thee, and see your Knights.

Great Agamemnon comes to meete vs here.

The worthiest of them, tell me name by name:
But for Achilles, mine owne serching eyes
Shall finde him by his large and portly size.

Worthy of Armes: as welcome as to one
That would be rid of such an enemie.
But that's no welcome: vnderstand more cleere
What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd with huskes
And formelesse ruine of obliuion:
But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias drawing:
Bids thee with most diuine integritie,
From heart of very heart, great Hector welcome.

I thanke thee most imperious Agamemnon. [YYY4]

My well-fam'd Lord of Troy, no lesse to you.

Let me confirme my Princely brothers greeting,
You brace of warlike Brothers, welcome hither.

Who must we answer?

The Noble Menelaus.

O, you my Lord, by Mars his gauntlet thanks,
Mocke not, that I affect th' vntraded Oath,
Your quondam wife sweares still by Venus Gloue
Shee's well, but bad me not commend her to you.

Name her not now sir, she's a deadly Theame.

O pardon, I offend.

I haue (thou gallant Troyan) seene thee oft
Labouring for destiny, make cruell way
Through rankes of Greekish youth: and I haue seen thee
As hot as Perseus, spurre thy Phrygian Steed,
And seene thee scorning forfeits and subduments,
When thou hast hung thy aduanced sword i'th' ayre,
Not letting it decline, on the declined:
That I haue said vnto my standers by,
Loe Iupiter is yonder, dealing life.
And I haue seene thee pause, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greekes haue hem'd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling. This haue I seene,
But this thy countenance (still lockt in steele)
I neuer saw till now. I knew thy Grandsire,
And once fought with him; he was a Souldier good,
But by great Mars, the Captaine of vs all,
Neuer like thee. Let an oldman embrace thee,
And (worthy Warriour) welcome to our Tents.

'Tis the old Nestor.

Let me embrace thee good old Chronicle,
That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time:
Most reuerend Nestor, I am glad to claspe thee.

I would my armes could match thee in contention
As they contend with thee in courtesie.

I would they could.

Ha? by this white beard I'ld fight with thee to
morrow. Well, welcom, welcome: I haue seen the time.

I wonder now, how yonder City stands,
When we haue heere her Base and pillar by vs.

I know your fauour Lord Vlysses well.
Ah sir, there's many a Greeke and Troyan dead,
Since first I saw your selfe, and Diomed
In Illion, on your Greekish Embassie.

Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue.
My prophesie is but halfe his iourney yet;
For yonder wals that pertly front your Towne,
Yond Towers, whose wanton tops do busse the clouds,
Must kisse their owne feet.

I must not beleeue you:
There they stand yet: and modestly I thinke,
The fall of euery Phrygian stone will cost
A drop of Grecian blood: the end crownes all,
And that old common Arbitrator, Time,
Will one day end it.

So to him we leaue it.
Most gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome;
After the Generall, I beseech you next
To Feast with me, and see me at my Tent.

I shall forestall thee Lord Vlysses, thou:
Now Hector I haue fed mine eyes on thee,
I haue with exact view perus'd thee Hector,
And quoted ioynt by ioynt.

Is this Achilles?

I am Achilles.

Stand faire I prythee, let me looke on thee.

Behold thy fill.

Nay, I haue done already.

Thou art to breefe, I will the second time,
As I would buy thee, view thee, limbe by limbe.

O like a Booke of sport thou'lt reade me ore:
But there's more in me then thou vnderstand'st.
Why doest thou so oppresse me with thine eye?

Tell me you Heauens, in which part of his body
Shall I destroy him? Whether three, or there, or there,
That I may giue the locall wound a name,
And make distinct the very breach, where-out
Hectors great spirit flew. Answer me heauens.

It would discredit the blest Gods, proud man,
To answer such a question: Stand againe;
Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly,
As to prenominate in nice coniecture
Where thou wilt hit me dead?

I tell thee yea.

Wert thou the Oracle to tell me so,
I'ld not beleeue thee: henceforth guard thee well,
For Ile not kill thee there, not there, nor there,
But by the forge that stythied Mars his helme,
Ile kill thee euery where, yea, ore and ore.
You wisest Grecians, pardon me this bragge,
His insolence drawes folly from my lips,
But Ile endeuour deeds to match these words,
Or may I neuer——

Do not chafe thee Cosin:
And you Achilles, let these threats alone
Till accident, or purpose bring you too't.
You may euery day enough of Hector
If you haue stomacke. The generall state I feare,
Can scarse intreat you to be odde with him.

I pray you let vs see you in the field,
We haue had pelting Warres since you refus'd
The Grecians cause.

Dost thou intreat me Hector?
To morrow do I meete thee fell as death,
To night, all Friends.

Thy hand vpon that match.

First, all you Peeres of Greece go to my Tent,
There in the full conuiue you: Afterwards,
As Hectors leysure, and your bounties shall
Concurre together, seuerally intreat him.
Beate lowd the Taborins, let the Trumpets blow,
That this great Souldier may his welcome know.

My Lord Vlysses, tell me I beseech you,
In what place of the Field doth Calchas keepe?

At Menelaus Tent, most Princely Troylus,
There Diomed doth feast with him to night,
Who neither lookes on heauen, nor on earth,
But giues all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the faire Cressid.

Shall I (sweet Lord) be bound to thee so much,
After we part from Agamemnons Tent,
To bring me thither?

You shall command me sir:
As gentle tell me, of what Honour was
This Cressida in Troy, had she no Louer there
That wailes her absence?

O sir, to such as boasting shew their scarres,
A mocke is due: will you walke on my Lord?
She was belou'd, she lou'd; she is, and dooth;
But still sweet Loue is food for Fortunes tooth.

Ile heat his blood with Greekish wine to night, [YYY4v]
Which with my Cemitar Ile coole to morrow:
Patroclus, let vs Feast him to the hight.

Heere comes Thersites.

How now, thou core of Enuy?
Thou crusty batch of Nature, what's the newes?

Why thou picture of what thou seem'st, & Idoll
of Ideot-worshippers, here's a Letter for thee.

From whence, Fragment?

Why thou full dish of Foole, from Troy.

Who keepes the Tent now?

The Surgeons box, or the Patients wound.

Well said aduersity, and what need these tricks?

Prythee be silent boy, I profit not by thy talke,
thou art thought to be Achilles male Varlot.

Male Varlot you Rogue? What's that?

Why his masculine Whore. Now the rotten
diseases of the South, guts-griping Ruptures, Catarres,
Loades a grauell i'th' backe, Lethargies, cold Palsies, and
the like, take and take againe, such prepostrous discoue-
ries.

Why thou damnable box of enuy thou, what
mean'st thou to curse thus?

Do I curse thee?

Why no, you ruinous But, you whorson indi-
stinguishable Curre.

No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle,
immateriall skiene of Sleyd silke; thou greene Sarcenet
flap for a sore eye, thou tassell of a Prodigals purse thou:
Ah how the poore world is pestred with such water-flies,
diminutiues of Nature.

Out gall.

Finch Egge.

My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in to morrowes battell:
Heere is a Letter from Queene Hecuba,
A token from her daughter, my faire Loue,
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keepe
An Oath that I haue sworne. I will not breake it,
Fall Greekes, faile Fame, Honor or go, or stay,
My maior vow lyes heere; this Ile obay:
Come, come Thersites, helpe to trim my Tent,
This night in banquetting must all be spent.
Away Patroclus.

With too much bloud, and too little Brain, these
two may run mad: but if with too much braine, and too
little blood, they do, Ile be a curer of madmen. Heere's
Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loues
Quailes, but he has not so much Braine as eare-wax; and
the goodly transformation of Iupiter there his Brother,
the Bull, the primatiue Statue, and oblique memoriall of
Cuckolds, a thrifty shooing-horne in a chaine, hanging
at his Brothers legge, to what forme but that he is, shold
wit larded with malice, and malice forced with wit, turne
him too: to an Asse were nothing; hee is both Asse and
Oxe; to an Oxe were nothing, hee is both Oxe and Asse:
to be a Dogge, a Mule, a Cat, a Fitchew, a Toade, a Li-
zard, an Owle, a Puttocke, or a Herring without a Roe,
I would not care: but to be Menelaus, I would conspire
against Destiny. Aske me not what I would be, if I were
not Thersites: for I care not to bee the lowse of a Lazar,
so I were not Menelaus. Hoy-day, spirits and fires.

We go wrong, we go wrong.

No yonder 'tis, there where we see the light.

I trouble you.

No, not a whit.

Heere comes himselfe to guide you?

Welcome braue Hector, welcome Princes all.

So now faire Prince of Troy, I bid goodnight,
Aiax commands the guard to tend on you.

Thanks, and goodnight to the Greeks general.

Goodnight my Lord.

Goodnight sweet Lord Menelaus.

Sweet draught: sweet quoth-a? sweet sinke,
sweet sure.

Goodnight and welcom, both at once, to those
that go, or tarry.

Goodnight.

Old Nestor tarries, and you too Diomed,
Keepe Hector company an houre, or two.

I cannot Lord, I haue important businesse,
The tide whereof is now, goodnight great Hector.

Giue me your hand.

Follow his Torch, he goes to Chalcas Tent,
Ile keepe you company.

Sweet sir, you honour me.

And so good night.

Come, come, enter my Tent.

That same Diomed's a false-hearted Rogue, a
most vniust Knaue; I will no more trust him when hee
leeres, then I will a Serpent when he hisses: he will spend
his mouth & promise, like Brabler the Hound; but when
he performes, Astronomers foretell it, that it is prodigi-
ous, there will come some change: the Sunne borrowes
of the Moone when Diomed keepes his word. I will ra-
ther leaue to see Hector, then not to dogge him: they say,
he keepes a Troyan Drab, and vses the Traitour Chalcas
his Tent. Ile after —— Nothing but Letcherie? All
incontinent Varlets.

What are you vp here ho? speake?

Who cals?

Diomed, Chalcas (I thinke) wher's your Daughter?

She comes to you.

Stand where the Torch may not discouer vs.

Cressid comes forth to him.

How now my charge?

Now my sweet gardian: harke a word with you.

Yea, so familiar?

She will sing any man at first sight.

And any man may finde her, if he can take her
life: she's noted.

Will you remember?

Remember? yes.

Nay, but doe then; and let your minde be cou-
pled with your words.

What should she remember?

List?

Sweete hony Greek, tempt me no more to folly.

Roguery.

Nay then.

Ile tell you what.

Fo, fo, come tell a pin, you are a forsworne.——

In faith I cannot: what would you haue me do?

A iugling tricke, to be secretly open.

What did you sweare you would bestow on me?

I prethee do not hold me to mine oath,
Bid me doe not any thing but that sweete Greeke. [YYY5]

Good night.

Hold, patience.

How now Troian?

Diomed.

No, no, good night: Ile be your foole no more.

Thy better must.

Harke one word in your eare.

O plague and madnesse!

You are moued Prince, let vs depart I pray you,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge it selfe
To wrathfull tearmes: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly: I beseech you goe.

Behold, I pray you.

Nay, good my Lord goe off:
You flow to great distraction: come my Lord?

I pray thee stay?

You haue not patience, come.

I pray you stay? by hell and hell torments,
I will not speake a word.

And so good night.

Nay, but you part in anger.

Doth that grieue thee? O withered truth!

Why, how now Lord?

By Ioue I will be patient.

Gardian? why Greeke?

Fo, fo, adew, you palter.

In faith I doe not: come hither once againe.

You shake my Lord at something; will you goe?
you will breake out.

She stroakes his cheeke.

Come, come.

Nay stay, by Ioue I will not speake a word.
There is betweene my will, and all offences,
A guard of patience; stay a little while.

How the diuell Luxury with his fat rumpe and
potato finger, tickles these together: frye lechery, frye.

But will you then?

In faith I will lo; neuer trust me else.

Giue me some token for the surety of it.

Ile fetch you one.

You haue sworne patience.

Feare me not sweete Lord.
I will not be my selfe, nor haue cognition
Of what I feele: I am all patience.

Now the pledge, now, now, now.

Here Diomed, keepe this Sleeue.

O beautie! where is thy Faith?

My Lord.

I will be patient, outwardly I will.

You looke vpon that Sleeue? behold it well:
He lou'd me: O false wench: giue't me againe.

Whose was't?

It is no matter now I haue't againe.
I will not meete with you to morrow night:
I prythee Diomed visite me no more.

Now she sharpens: well said Whetstone.

I shall haue it.

What, this?

I that.

O all you gods! O prettie, prettie pledge;
Thy Maister now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee and me, and sighes, and takes my Gloue,
And giues memoriall daintie kisses to it;
As I kisse thee.

Nay, doe not snatch it from me.

He that takes that, takes my heart withall.

I had your heart before, this followes it.

I did sweare patience.

You shall not haue it Diomed; faith you shall not:
Ile giue you something else.

I will haue this: whose was it?

It is no matter.

Come tell me whose it was?

'Twas one that lou'd me better then you will.
But now you haue it, take it.

Whose was it?

By all Dianas waiting women yond:
And by her selfe, I will not tell you whose.

To morrow will I weare it on my Helme,
And grieue his spirit that dares not challenge it.

Wert thou the diuell, and wor'st it on thy horne,
It should be challeng'd.

Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past; and yet it is not:
I will not keepe my word.

Why then farewell,
Thou neuer shalt mocke Diomed againe.

You shall not goe: one cannot speake a word,
But it strait starts you.

I doe not like this fooling.

Nor I by Pluto: but that that likes not me, plea-
ses me best.

What shall I come? the houre.

I, come: O Ioue! doe, come: I shall be plagu'd.

Farewell till then.

Good night: I prythee come:
Troylus farewell; one eye yet lookes on thee;
But with my heart, the other eye, doth see.
Ah poore our sexe; this fault in vs I finde:
The errour of our eye, directs our minde.
What errour leads, must erre: O then conclude,
Mindes swai'd by eyes, are full of turpitude.

A proofe of strength she could not publish more;
Vnlesse she say, my minde is now turn'd whore.

Al's done my Lord.

It is.

Why stay we then?

To make a recordation to my soule
Of euery syllable that here was spoke:
But if I tell how these two did coact;
Shall I not lye, in publishing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart:
An esperance so obstinately strong,
That doth inuert that test of eyes and eares;
As if those organs had deceptious functions,
Created onely to calumniate.
Was Cressed here?

I cannot coniure Troian.

She was not sure.

Most sure she was.

Why my negation hath no taste of madnesse?

Nor mine my Lord: Cressid was here but now.

Let it not be beleeu'd for womanhood:
Thinke we had mothers; doe not giue aduantage
To stubborne Criticks, apt without a theame
For deprauation, to square the generall sex
By Cressids rule. Rather thinke this not Cressid.

What hath she done Prince, that can soyle our
mothers?

Nothing at all, vnlesse that this were she.

Will he swagger himselfe out on's owne eyes?

This she? no, this is Diomeds Cressida:
If beautie haue a soule, this is not she: [YYY5v]
If soules guide vowes; if vowes are sanctimonie;
If sanctimonie be the gods delight:
If there be rule in vnitie it selfe,
This is not she: O madnesse of discourse!
That cause sets vp, with, and against thy selfe
By foule authoritie: where reason can reuolt
Without perdition, and losse assume all reason,
Without reuolt. This is, and is not Cressid:
Within my soule, there doth conduce a sight
Of this strange nature, that a thing inseperate,
Diuides more wider then the skie and earth:
And yet the spacious bredth of this diuision,
Admits no Orifex for a point as subtle,
As Ariachnes broken woofe to enter:
Instance, O instance! strong as Plutoes gates:
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heauen;
Instance, O instance, strong as heauen it selfe:
The bonds of heauen are slipt, dissolu'd, and loos'd,
And with another knot fiue finger tied,
The fractions of her faith, orts of her loue:
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greazie reliques,
Of her ore-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed

May worthy Troylus be halfe attached
With that which here his passion doth expresse?

I Greeke: and that shall be divulged well
In Characters, as red as Mars his heart
Inflam'd with Venus: neuer did yong man fancy
With so eternall, and so fixt a soule.
Harke Greek: as much I doe Cressida loue;
So much by weight, hate I her Diomed,
That Sleeue is mine, that heele beare in his Helme:
Were it a Caske compos'd by Vulcans skill,
My Sword should bite it: Not the dreadfull spout,
Which Shipmen doe the Hurricano call,
Constring'd in masse by the almighty Fenne,
Shall dizzie with more clamour Neptunes eare
In his discent; then shall my prompted sword,
Falling on Diomed.

Heele tickle it for his concupie.

O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false:
Let all vntruths stand by thy stained name,
And theyle seeme glorious.

O containe your selfe:
Your passion drawes eares hither.

I haue beene seeking you this houre my Lord:
Hector by this is arming him in Troy.

your Guard, staies to conduct you home.

Haue with you Prince: my curteous Lord adew:
Farewell reuolted faire: and Diomed,
Stand fast, and weare a Castle on thy head.

Ile bring you to the Gates.

Accept distracted thankes.

Would I could meete that roague Diomed, I
would croke like a Rauen: I would bode, I would bode:
Patroclus will giue me any thing for the intelligence of
his whore: the Parrot will not doe more for an Almond,
then he for a commodious drab: Lechery, lechery, still
warres and lechery, nothing else holds fashion. A burning
diuell take them.

When was my Lord so much vngently temper'd,
To stop his eares against admonishment?
Vnarme, vnarme, and doe not fight to day.

You traine me to offend you: get you gone.
By the euerlasting gods, Ile goe.

My dreames will sure proue ominous to the day.

No more I say.

Where is my brother Hector?

Here sister, arm'd, and bloudy in intent:
Consort with me in loud and deere petition:
Pursue we him on knees: for I haue dreampt
Of bloudy turbulence; and this whole night
Hath nothing beene but shapes, and formes of slaughter.

O, 'tis true.

Ho? bid my Trumpet sound.

No notes of sallie, for the heauens, sweet brother.

Begon I say: the gods haue heard me sweare.

The gods are deafe to hot and peeuish vowes;
They are polluted offrings, more abhord
Then spotted Liuers in the sacrifice.

O be perswaded, doe not count it holy,
To hurt by being iust; it is as lawfull:
For we would count giue much to as violent thefts,
And rob in the behalfe of charitie.

It is the purpose that makes strong the vowe;
But vowes to euery purpose must not hold:
Vnarme sweete Hector.

Hold you still I say;
Mine honour keepes the weather of my fate:
Life euery man holds deere, but the deere man
Holds honor farre more precious, deere, then life.

How now yong man? mean'st thou to fight to day?

Cassandra, call my father to perswade.

No faith yong Troylus; doffe thy harnesse youth:
I am to day ith' vaine of Chiualrie:
Let grow thy Sinews till their knots be strong;
And tempt not yet the brushes of the warre.
Vnarme thee, goe; and doubt thou not braue boy,
Ile stand to day, for thee, and me, and Troy.

Brother, you haue a vice of mercy in you;
Which better fits a Lyon, then a man.

What vice is that? good Troylus chide me for it.

When many times the captiue Grecian fals,
Euen in the fanne and winde of your faire Sword:
You bid them rise, and liue.

O 'tis faire play.

Fooles play, by heauen Hector.

How now? how now?

For th' loue of all the gods
Let's leaue the Hermit Pitty with our Mothers,
And when we haue our Armors buckled on,
The venom'd vengeance ride vpon our swords,
Spur them to ruthfull worke, reine them from ruth.

Fie, sauage, fie.

Hector, then 'tis warres.

Troylus, I would not haue you fight to day.

Who should with-hold me?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars,
Beckning with fierie trunchion my retire;
Not Priamus, and Hecuba on knees;
Their eyes ore-galled with recourse of teares;
Nor you my brother, with your true sword drawne
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way:
But by my ruine.

Lay hold vpon him Priam, hold him fast:
He is thy crutch; now if thou loose thy stay,
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, [YYY6]
Fall all together.

Come Hector, come, goe backe:
Thy wife hath dreampt: thy mother hath had visions;
Cassandra doth foresee; and I my selfe,
Am like a Prophet suddenly enrapt,
To tell thee that this day is ominous:
Therefore come backe.

Aeneas is a field,
And I do stand engag'd to many Greekes,
Euen in the faith of valour, to appeare
This morning to them.

I, but thou shalt not goe,

I must not breake my faith:
You know me dutifull, therefore deare sir,
Let me not shame respect; but giue me leaue
To take that course by your consent and voice,
Which you doe here forbid me, Royall Priam.

O Priam, yeelde not to him.

Doe not deere father.

Andromache I am offended with you:
Vpon the loue you beare me, get you in.

This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girle,
Makes all these bodements.

O farewell, deere Hector:
Looke how thou diest; looke how thy eye turnes pale:
Looke how thy wounds doth bleede at many vents:
Harke how Troy roares; how Hecuba cries out;
How poore Andromache shrils her dolour forth;
Behold distraction, frenzie, and amazement,
Like witlesse Antickes one another meete,
And all cry Hector, Hectors dead: O Hector!

Away, away.

Farewell: yes, soft: Hector I take my leaue;
Thou do'st thy selfe, and all our Troy deceiue.

You are amaz'd, my Liege, at her exclaime:
Goe in and cheere the Towne, weele forth and fight:
Doe deedes of praise, and tell you them at night.

Farewell: the gods with safetie stand about
thee.

They are at it, harke: proud Diomed, beleeue
I come to loose my arme, or winne my sleeue.

Doe you heare my Lord? do you heare?

What now?

Here's a Letter come from yond poore girle.

Let me reade.

A whorson tisicke, a whorson rascally tisicke,
so troubles me; and the foolish fortune of this girle, and
what one thing, what another, that I shall leaue you one
o'th's dayes: and I haue a rheume in mine eyes too; and
such an ache in my bones; that vnlesse a man were curst,
I cannot tell what to thinke on't. What sayes shee
there?

Words, words, meere words, no matter from
the heart;
Th' effect doth operate another way.
Goe winde to winde, there turne and change together:
My loue with words and errors still she feedes;
But edifies another with her deedes.

Why, but heare you?

Hence brother lackie; ignomie and shame
Pursue thy life, and liue aye with thy name.

Now they are clapper-clawing one another, Ile
goe looke on: that dissembling abhominable varlet Dio-mede,
has got that same scuruie, doting, foolish yong
knaues Sleeue of Troy, there in his Helme: I would faine
see them meet; that, that same yong Troian asse, that loues
the whore there, might send that Greekish whore-mai-
sterly villaine, with the Sleeue, backe to the dissembling
luxurious drabbe, of a sleeuelesse errant. O'th' tother side,
the pollicie of those craftie swearing rascals; that stole
old Mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor: and that same dog-
foxe

, is not prou'd worth a Black-berry. They set
me vp in pollicy, that mungrill curre Aiax against that
dogge of as bad a kinde, Achilles. And now is the curre
Aiax prouder then the curre Achilles, and will not arme
to day. Whereupon, the Grecians began to proclaime
barbarisme; and pollicie growes into an ill opinion.

Soft, here comes Sleeue, and th' other.

Flye not: for should'st thou take the Riuer Stix,
I would swim after.

Thou do'st miscall retire:
I doe not flye, but aduantagious care
Withdrew me from the oddes of multitude:
Haue at thee?

Hold thy whore Grecian: now for thy whore
Troian: Now the Sleeue, now the Sleeue.

What art thou Greek? art thou for Hectors match?
Art thou of bloud, and honour?

No, no: I am a rascall: a scuruie railing knaue:
a very filthy roague.

I doe beleeue thee, liue.

God a mercy, that thou wilt beleeue me; but a
plague breake thy necke —— for frighting me: what's be-
come of the wenching rogues? I thinke they haue
swallowed one another. I would laugh at that mira-
cle —— yet in a sort, lecherie eates it selfe: Ile seeke them.

Goe, goe, my seruant, take thou Troylus Horse;
Present the faire Steede to my Lady Cressid:
Fellow, commend my seruice to her beauty;
Tell her, I haue chastis'd the amorous Troyan,
And am her Knight by proofe.

I goe my Lord.

Renew, renew, the fierce Polidamus
Hath beate downe Menon: bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner.
And stands Calossus-wise wauing his beame,
Vpon the pashed courses of the Kings:
Epistropus and Cedus, Polixines is slaine;
Amphimacus, and Thous deadly hurt;
Patroclus tane or slaine, and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruised; the dreadfull Sagittary
Appauls our numbers, haste we Diomed
To re-enforcement, or we perish all.

Goe beare Patroclus body to Achilles,
And bid the snaile-pac'd Aiax arme for shame;
There is a thousand Hectors in the field:
Now here he fights on Galathe his Horse,
And there lacks worke: anon he's there a foote,
And there they flye or dye, like scaled sculs, [YYY6v]
Before the belching Whale; then is he yonder,
And there the straying Greekes, ripe for his edge,
Fall downe before him, like the mowers swath;
Here, there, and euery where, he leaues and takes;
Dexteritie so obaying appetite,
That what he will, he does, and does so much,
That proofe is call'd impossibility.

Oh, courage, courage Princes: great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance;
Patroclus wounds haue rouz'd his drowzie bloud,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noselesse, handlesse, hackt and chipt, come to him;
Crying on Hector. Aiax hath lost a friend,
And foames at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it:
Roaring for Troylus; who hath done to day,
Mad and fanasticke execution;
Engaging and redeeming of himselfe.
With such a carelesse force, and forcelesse care,
As if that luck in very spight of cunning, bad him win all.

Troylus, thou coward Troylus.

I, there, there.

So, so, we draw together.

Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou boy-queller, shew thy face:
Know what it is to meete Achilles angry.
Hector, wher's Hector? I will none but Hector.

Troylus, thou coward Troylus, shew thy head.

Troylus, I say, wher's Troylus?

What would'st thou?

I would correct him.

Were I the Generall,
Thou should'st haue my office,
Ere that correction: Troylus I say, what Troylus?

Oh traitour Diomed!
Turne thy false face thou traytor,
And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse.

Ha, art thou there?

Ile fight with him alone, stand Diomed.

He is my prize, I will not looke vpon.

Come both you coging Greekes, haue at you
both.

Yea Troylus? O well fought my yongest Brother.

Now doe I see thee; haue at thee Hector.

Pause if thou wilt.

I doe disdaine thy curtesie, proud Troian;
Be happy that my armes are out of vse:
My rest and negligence befriends thee now,
But thou anon shalt heare of me againe:
Till when, goe seeke thy fortune.

Fare thee well:
I would haue beene much more a fresher man,
Had I expected thee: how now my Brother?

Aiax hath tane Aeneas; shall it be?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heauen,
He shall not carry him: Ile be tane too,
Or bring him off: Fate heare me what I say;
I wreake not, though thou end my life to day.

Stand, stand, thou Greeke,
Thou art a goodly marke:
No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well,
Ile frush it, and vnlocke the riuets all,
But Ile be maister of it: wilt thou not beast abide?
Why then flye on, Ile hunt thee for thy hide.

Come here about me you my Myrmidons:
Marke what I say; attend me where I wheele:
Strike not a stroake, but keepe your selues in breath;
And when I haue the bloudy Hector found,
Empale him with your weapons round about:
In fellest manner execute your arme.
Follow me sirs, and my proceedings eye;
It is decreed, Hector the great must dye.

The Cuckold and the Cuckold maker are at it:
now bull, now dogge, lowe; Paris lowe; now my dou-
ble hen'd sparrow; lowe Paris, lowe; the bull has the
game: ware hornes ho?

Turne slaue and fight.

What art thou?

A Bastard Sonne of Priams.

I am a Bastard too, I loue Bastards, I am a Ba-
stard begot, Bastard instructed, Bastard in minde, Bastard
in valour, in euery thing illegitimate: one Beare will not
bite another, and wherefore should one Bastard? take
heede, the quarrel's most ominous to vs: if the Sonne of a
whore fight for a whore, he tempts iudgement: farewell
Bastard.

The diuell take thee coward.

Most putrified core so faire without:
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my daies worke done; Ile take good breath:
Rest Sword, thou hast thy fill of bloud and death.

Looke Hector how the Sunne begins to set;
How vgly night comes breathing at his heeles,
Euen with the vaile and darking of the Sunne.
To close the day vp, Hectors life is done.

I am vnarm'd, forgoe this vantage Greeke.

Strike fellowes, strike, this is the man I seeke.
So Illion fall thou: now Troy sinke downe;
Here lyes thy heart, thy sinewes, and thy bone.
On Myrmidons, cry you all a maine.
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slaine.
Harke, a retreat vpon our Grecian part.

The Troian Trumpets sounds the like my Lord.

The dragon wing of night ore-spreds the earth
And stickler-like the Armies seperates
My halfe supt Sword, that frankly would haue fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bed; thus goes to bed.
Come, tye his body to my horses tayle;
Along the field, I will the Troian traile.

Harke, harke, what shout is that?

Peace Drums. [YYYY1]

Achilles, Achilles, Hector's slaine, Achilles.

The bruite is, Hector's slaine, and by Achilles.

If it be so, yet braglesse let it be:
Great Hector was a man as good as he.

March patiently along: let one be sent
To pray Achilles see vs at our Tent.
If in his death the gods haue vs befrended,
Great Troy is ours, and our sharpe wars are ended.

Stand hoe, yet are we maisters of the field,
Neuer goe home; here starue we out the night.

Hector is slaine.

Hector? the gods forbid.

Hee's dead: and at the murtherers Horses taile,
In beastly sort, drag'd through the shamefull Field.
Frowne on you heauens, effect your rage with speede:
Sit gods vpon your throanes, and smile at Troy.
I say at once, let your briefe plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on.

My Lord, you doe discomfort all the Hoste.

You vnderstand me not, that tell me so:
I doe not speake of flight, of feare, of death,
But dare all imminence that gods and men,
Addresse their dangers in. Hector is gone:
Who shall tell Priam so? or Hecuba?
Let him that will a screechoule aye be call'd,
Goe in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead:
There is a word will Priam turne to stone;
Make wels, and Niobes of the maides and wiues;
Coole statues of the youth: and in a word,
Scarre Troy out of it selfe. But march away,
Hector is dead: there is no more to say.
Stay yet: you vile abhominable Tents,
Thus proudly pight vpon our Phrygian plaines:
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
Ile through, and through you; & thou great siz'd coward:
No space of Earth shall sunder our two hates,
Ile haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frensies thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy, with comfort goe:
Hope of reuenge, shall hide our inward woe.

But heare you? heare you?

Hence broker, lackie, ignomy, and shame
Pursue thy life, and liue aye with thy name.

A goodly medcine for mine akingbones: oh world,
world, world! thus is the poore agent dispisde: Oh trai-
tours and bawdes; how earnestly are you set aworke, and
how ill requited? why should our indeuour be so desir'd,
and the performance so loath'd? What Verse for it? what
instance for it? let me see.
Full merrily the humble Bee doth sing,
Till he hath lost his hony, and his sting.
And being once subdu'd in armed taile,
Sweete hony, and sweete notes together faile.
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloathes;
As many as be here of Panders hall,
Your eyes halfe out, weepe out at Pandar's fall:
Or if you cannot weepe, yet giue some grones;
Though not for me, yet for your akingbones:
Brethren and sisters of the hold-dore trade,
Some two months hence, my will shall here be made:
It should be now, but that my feare is this:
Some galled Goose of Winchester would hisse:
Till then, Ile sweate, and seeke about for eases;
And at that time bequeath you my diseases.