Confort with me in loud and dear petition ;
Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt
Of bloody turbulence; and this whole night
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of flaughter.
Caf. O, 'tis true.

Heat. Ho! bid my trumpet found.

Caf. No notes of fally, for the heav'ns, fweet brother. Heat. Be gone, I fay: the Gods have heard me fwear. Caf. The Gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd Than fpotted livers in the facrifice.

And. O! be perfuaded, do not count it holy
To hurt by being juft; it were as lawful

For us to count we give what's gain'd by thefts,
And rob in the behalf of charity.

Caf. It is the purpose that makes ftrong the vow;
But vows to every purpose must not hold :
Unarm, fweet Hector.

Het. Hold you still, I fay;

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

Enter Troilus.

How now, young man; mean'ft thou to fight to day? And. Coffandra, call my father to perfuade.

[Exit Caffandra. Hea. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth: I am to day i'th' vein of chivalry:

Let grow thy finews till their knots be strong,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.

Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
I'll ftand, to day, for thee, and me, and Troy.
Troi. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you;
Which better fits a lion, than a man.

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

You bid them rife, and live.
Hect. O, 'tis fair play.

your

Troi. Fool's play, by Heaven, Hector.

Hed.

Het. How now ? how now ?

Troi. For love of all the Gods,

Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mothers;
And when we have our armour buckled on,
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our fwords,
Spur them to rueful work, rein them from ruth.
Het. Fie, favage, fie!

Troi. Hector, thus 'tis in wars.

Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight to day.
Troi. Who should with hold me?

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

Their eyes o'er-galled with recourfe of tears;
Nor you, my brother, with your true fword drawn
Oppos'd to hinder me, fhould ftop my way,
But by my ruin.

Enter Priam and Caffandra.

Caf. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him faft:
He is thy crutch; now if thou lofe thy Stay,
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,
Fall all together.

Priam. Hector, come, go back:

Thy wife hath dreamt: thy mother hath had vifions
Calandra doth forefee; and I myself

Am, like a prophet, fuddenly enrapt
To tell thee, that this day is ominous :
Therefore come back.

Hect. Eneas is a-field,

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

Priam. But thou shalt not go.

Hect. I must not break my faith:

You know me dutiful, therefore, dear Sir,
Let me not shame refpect; but give me leave
To take that courfe by your confent and voice,
Which you do here forbid me, Royal Priam.
Caf. O, Priam, yield not to him.

And. Do not, dear father.

Hect. Andromache, I am offended with you.
Upon the love you bear me, get you in. [Exit Androm.
Troi. This foolish, dreaming, fuperftitious girl
Makes all these bodements.

Caf. O farewel, dear Hector:

Look, how thou dieft; look, how thy eyes turn pale!
Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents!
Hark, how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out;
How poor Andromache fhrills her dolour forth!
Behold, distraction, frenzy and amazement,
Like witless anticks, one another meet,
And all cry, Hector, Hector's dead! O Hector!
Troi. Away!- -Away!

Caf. Farewel yet, foft: Hector, I take my leave;
Thou doft thy felf and all our Troy deceive.

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

Enter Pandarus,

Pand. Do you hear, my lord? do you hear?

Troi. What now?

Pand. Here's a letter come from yond poor girl.
Trei. Let me read.

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

Th' effect doth operate another way. [Tearing the letter.
Go, wind to wind; there turn and change together:
My love with words and errors ftill the feeds;

But edifies another with her deeds.

Pand. Why, but hear you

་

Troi. Hence, brothel-lacquey! ignominy and shame (29) Purfue thy life, and live ay with thy name! [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Field between Troy and the Camp.

Ther.

No

[Alarum] Enter Therfites,

WOW they are clapper-clawing one another, I'll go look on that diffembling abominable varlet, Diomede, has got that fame fcurvy, doating, foolish young knave's fleeve of Troy, there, in his helm: I would fain fee them meet; that, that fame young Trojan afs, that loves the whore there, might fend that Greekish whore mafter villain, with the fleeve, back to the diffembling luxurious drab, of a fleeveless Errant. O'th other fide, (30) the policy of thofe crafty fneering rafcals, that ftale old moufe-eaten dry cheese Neftor, and that fame dog-fox Ulyffes, is not prov'd worth a blackberry. They fet me up in policy that mungri cur Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles. And now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to day; whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarifm, and policy grows into an ill opinion. Enter Diomede and Troilus.

Soft

- here comes fleeve, aud t'other. Troi. Fly not; for should'st thou take the river Styx,

(29) Hence, brothel, lacquey!- -] In this, and the Repetition of it, towards the Clofe of the Play, Troilus is made abfurdly to call Pandarusbawdy-boufe ; for Brothel fignifies nothing else that I know of: but he meant to call him an Attendant on a Bawdy-houfe, a Meffenger of obfcene Errands: a Senfe which I have retriev'd, only by clapping an Hypben betwixt the two Words,

(30) O'th' other Side, the Policy of thofe crafty fwearing Rafcals, &c.] But in what Sense are Neftor and Ulyffes accus'd of being fwearing Rafcals? What, or to Whom, did they fwear? I am pofitive, I have reftor'd the true Reading. They had collogued with Ajax, and trim'd him up with infincere Praifes, only in Order to have ftir'd Achilles's Emulation. In this, they were true Sneerers; betraying the first, to gain their Ends on the latter by that Artifice.

I would fwim after.

Dio. Thou doft mifcall Retire:

I do not fly; but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude;

Have at thee !

[They go off, fighting. Ther Hold thy whore, Grecian; now for thy whore, Trojan: now the fleeve, now the fleeve, now the fleeve ! Enter Hector.

Hect. What art thou, Greek! are thou for Hector's match?

Art thou of blood and honour ?

Ther. No, no: I am a rascal; a fcurvy railing knave ; a very filthy rogue.

Hect. I do believe thee-live.

[Exit.

Ther. God o' mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague break thy neck for frightning me! What's become of the wenching rogues? I think, they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at that miraclefort, letchery eats it felf: I'll feek them.

Enter Diomede and Servant.

-yet, in [Exit.

Dio. Go, go, my fervant, take thou Troilus' horfe, Prefent the fair Steed to my lady Creffid:

Fellow, commend my fervice to her beauty:
Tell her, I have chaftis'd the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.

Ser. I go, my lord,

Enter Agamemnon.

Aga. Renew, renew: the fierce Polydamas Hath beat down Menon: baftard Margarelon Hath Doreus prifoner,

;

And ftands Coloffus-wife, waving his beam
Upon the pashed coarfes of the Kings,
Epifiropus and Odius. Polyxenus is flain;
Amphimachus and Thoas deadly hurt
Patroclus ta'en or flain, and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd; the dreadful Sagittary
Appals our numbers: hafte we, Diomede,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.

Enter