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As PANDARUS is going out, enter TROILUS. Troi. How now? what's the matter?

Æne. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, My matter is so rash: There is at hand

150 Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith, Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, We must give up to Diomedes' hand The lady Cressida.

Troi. Is it concluded so?

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

Troi. How my achievements mock me!-- 160 I will go meet them: and, my lord Æneas, We met by chance ; you did not find me here. Æne. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of neigh

bour Pandar Have not more gift in taciturnity.

[Exeunt TROILUS, and Æneas. Pan. Is't possible ? no sooner got, but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke's neck!

Enter CRESSIDA. Cre. How now? What is the matter? Who was here?

170 Pan. Ah, ah!


Cre. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my

lord? gone? Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth, as I am above !

Cre. O the gods !-what's the matter ?

Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in; Would thou had'st ne'er been born! I knew, thou wouldst be his death:O poor gentleman !- A plague upon Antenor !

Cre. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, 180 I beseech you, what's the matter?

Pan. Thou inust be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art chang'd for Antenor : thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus; 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane ; he cannot bear it.

Cre. O you immortal gods ! -I will not go.
Pan. Thou must.

Cre. I will not, uncle : I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity;
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me, 190
As the sweet Troilus.-- you gods divine !
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus ! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it.-I'll go in, and weep,

Pan. Do, do. Cre. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks;

199 Crack

Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my

heart With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy.




Par. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon :-Good my brother Troilus,

the lady what she is to do, And haste her to the purpose.

Troi. Walk in to her house; I'll bring her to the Grecian presently: And to his hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar ; and thy brother Troilus 210 A priest, there offering to it his own heart.

[Exit TROILUS, Par. I know what 'tis to love; And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help! Please you, walk in my lords.




An Apartment in PANDARUSHouse. Enter PANDARUS,

and CRESSIDA, Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.

Cre. Why tell you me of moderation ? The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, And violenteth in a sense as strong As that which causeth it: How can I moderate it? If I could temporize with my affection, Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, The like allayment could I give my grief : My love admits no qualifying dross; No more my grief, in such a precious loss.



Pan. Here, here, here he comes.--Ah sweet

ducks! Cre. O Troilus ! Troilus !

Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too; 0 heart,—as the goodly saying is,

o heart, o heavy heart, Why sighost thou without breaking ?

230 where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy smart,

By friendship, nor by speaking. There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may ļive to have need of such a verse; we see it, we see it.-How now, lambs?


Troi. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity, That the blest gods-as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which

239 Cold lips blow to their deities-take thee from me.

Cre. Have the gods envy ?
Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case.
Cre. And is it true, that I must go from Troy?
Troi. A hateful truth.
Cre. What, and from Troilus too?
Troi. From Troy, and Troilus.
Cre. Is it possible?

Troi. And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips 250
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows,
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath;
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not hows
As many farewels as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath, and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu ;

261 And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears.

Æne. [Within.] My lord ! is the lady ready?
Troi. Hark! you are callid: Some say, the Genius


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