Ulyss. All's done, my lord.
Tro.

Ulyss.

It is.

Why stay we then?

Tro. To make a recordation to my soul

Of every syllable that here was spoke.
But, if I tell how these two did co-act,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
An esperance so obstinately strong,

That doth invert th'attest of eyes and ears;
As if those organs had deceptious functions,
Created only to calumniate.

Was Cressid here?

Ulyss.

I cannot conjure, Trojan.

Tro. She was not sure.

Ulyss.

Most sure she was.

Tro. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness. Ulyss. Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was here but now Tro. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood! Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage To stubborn criticks-apt, without a theme, For depravation, -to square the general sex By Cressid's rule: rather think this not Cressid.

Ulyss. What hath she done, prince, that can soil our

mothers?

Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
Ther. Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?
Tro. This she? no, this is Diomed's Cressida:

If beauty have a soul, this is not she;
If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimony,
If sanctimony be the gods' delight,
If there be rule in unity itself,

This was not she. O madness of discourse,

That cause sets up with and against itself!
Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt
Without perdition, and loss assume all reason
Without revolt; this is, and is not, Cressid!
Within my soul there doth commence a fight
Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate
Divides more wider than the sky and earth;
And yet the spacious breadth of this division
Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle
As is Arachne's broken woof, to enter.
Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates;
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven:
Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself;
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and

loos'd;

And with another knot, five-finger-tied,
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy reliques
Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.

Ulyss. May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
With that which here his passion doth express ?
Tro. Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged weil
In characters as red as Mars his heart
Inflam'd with Venus: never did young man fancy
With so eternal and so fix'd a soul.
Hark, Greek;-As much as I do Cressid love,
So much by weight hate I her Diomed :
That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear on his helm;
Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill,
My sword should bite it: not the dreadful spout,
Which shipmen do the hurricano call
Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear

In his descent, than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomed.

Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy.

Tro. O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false!

Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,

And they'll seem glorious.

Ulyss.

O, contain yourself;

Your passion draws ears hither.

Enter ÆNEAS.

Æne. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord :

Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy;

Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home.

Tro. Have with you, prince:-My courteous lord,

adieu :

Farewell, revolted fair!-and, Diomed,

Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head!
Ulyss. I'll bring you to the gates.
Tro. Accept distracted thanks.

[Exeunt TROILUS, Eneas, and ULYSSES. Ther. 'Would, I could meet that rogue Dionied! I would croak like a raven ; I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore: the parrot will not do more for an almond, than he for a commodious drab, Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery; nothing else holds fashion: A burning devil take them! [Exit.

SCENE III.-Troy. Before Priam's palace.
Enter HECTOR and ANDROMACHE.

And. When was my lord so much ungently temper'd, To stop his ears against admonishment?

Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.

Hect. You train me to offend you; get you in:

By all the everlasting gods, I'll go.

And. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the

day.

Hect. No more, I say.

Enter CASSANDRA.

Cas.

Where is my brother Hector

And. Here, sister; arm'd, and bloody in intent : Consort with me in loud and dear petition, Pursue we him on knces; for I have dream'd Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.

Cas. O, it is true.

Hect.

Ho! bid my trumpet sound! Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother Hect. Begone, I say: the gods have heard me swear Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;

They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.

And. O! be persuaded: Do not count it holy
To hurt by being just: it is as lawful,
For we would give much, to use violent thefts,
And rob in the behalf of charity.

Cas. It is the purpose, that makes strong the vow;
But vows, to every purpose, must not hold :
Unarm, sweet Hector.

Hect.

Hold you still, I say;

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate:
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man
Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.-

Enter TROILUS.

How now, young man? mean'st thou to fight to-day? And. Cassandra, call my father to persuade.

[Exit CASSANDRA.

Hect. No, 'faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness,

youth,

I am to-day i'th' vein of chivalry:
Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.
Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
I'll stand, to-day, for thee, and me, and Troy.

Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,
Which better fits a lion, than a man

Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me for it. Tro. When many times the captive Grecians fall,

Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,

You bid them rise, and live.

Hect. O, 'tis fair play.

Tro.

Fool's play, by heaven, Hector.

Hect. How now? how now?
Tro.

For the love of all the gods

Let's leave the hermit pity with our mother;

And when we have our armours buckled on,

The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords;

Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.

Hect. Fye, savage, fye!

Tro.

Hector, then 'tis wars.

Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day
Tro. Who should withhold me?

Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,