Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What musick will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings* on. Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.

Ther. Let him bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable † creature.

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;

And I myself see not the bottom of it.

[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Troy. A street.

Enter at one side, Æneas and Servant, with a torch ; at the other, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, Diome des, and others, with torches.

Par. See, ho! who's that there?

Dei.

"Tis the lord Æneas.

Ene. Is the prince there in person?

Had I so good occasion to lie long,

As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio. That's my mind too.-Good morrow, lord Æneas.

Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand; Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told-how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field.

Ene.

Health to you, valiant sir, + Intelligent.

* Lute-strings made of catgut.

During all question* of the gentle truce:
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance,
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm, and, so long health :
But when contention and occasion meet,

By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
With his face backward.—In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill more excellently.
Dio. We sympathise :-Jove, let Æneas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courses of the sun!
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die,
With every joint a wound; and that to-morrow !
Ene. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse. Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.— What business, lord, so early?

Ene. I was sent for to the king; but why, I know

not.

Par. His purpose meets you; "Twas to bring this

Greek

To Calchas' house; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid:
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before us: I constantly do think
(Or, rather call my thought a certain knowledge,)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night;
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality wherefore I fear,
We shall be much unwelcome.

Ene.

:

That I assure you;

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,

* Conversation.

Than Cressid borne from Troy.

Par.

The bitter disposition of the time

There is no help;

Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you.
Ene. Good morrow, all.

[Exit.

Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell me

true,

Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,-
Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best,
Myself, or Menelaus ?

Dio.

Both alike:

He merits well to have her, that doth seek her
(Not making any scruple of her soilure,)
With such a hell of pain, and world of charge;
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the taste of her dishonour),
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends:
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors :
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more;
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman.
Dio. She's bitter to her country: Hear me,
Paris,-

For every false drop in her bawdy veins

A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,

A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath,
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.
Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:
But we in silence hold this virtue well,-
We'll not commend what we intend to sell.
Here lies our way.

[Exeunt.

The same.

SCENE II.

Court before the house of Pandarus.

Enter Troilus and Cressida.

Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle

down;

He shall unbolt the gates.

Trouble him not;

Tro.
To bed, to bed: Sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses,
As infants' empty of all thought!

Cres.

Tro. Pry'thee now, to bed.

Cres.

Good morrow then.

Are you aweary of me?

Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald* crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.

Cres.

Night hath been too brief. Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights

she stays,

As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love, With wings more momentary swift than thought. You will catch cold, and curse me.

Cres.

You men will never tarry.

Pr'ythee, tarry;

O foolish Cressid!-I might have still held off, And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up.

Pan. [Within.] What are all the doors open here? Tro. It is your uncle.

Enter Pandarus.

Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking :

* Lewd, noisy.

I shall have such a life,

Pan. How now, how now? how go maidenheads?-Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid?

Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!

You bring me to do*, and then you flout me too. Pan. To do what? to do what?-let her say what what have I brought you to do?

:

Cres. Come, come; beshrew† your heart! you'll ne'er be good,

Nor suffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia!-hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him ! [Knocking. Cres. Did I not tell you?-'would he were knock'd o'the head!

Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see.-
My lord, come you again into my chamber:
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
Tro. Ha, ha!

Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such

thing.[Knocking. How earnestly they knock !-pray you,.come in; I would not for half Troy have you seen here.

[Exeunt Troilus and Cressida. Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now? what's the matter?

Enter Eneas.

Ene. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

Pan. Who's there? my lord Eneas? By my troth, I knew you not: what news with you so early?

Ene. Is not prince Troilus here?

Pan. Here! what should he do here?

To do is here used in a wanton sense.

↑ An Italian word for poor fool.

+ Ill betide.