Cre. O the Gods! what's the matter i
Pan. Pr'ythee get thee in ; would thou had'ft ne'er been born! I knew thou would'ft be his death. O poor gentleman! a plague upon Antenor!
Gre. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you, what's the matter?
Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art chang'd for Antenor; thou must go 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've forgot my father.
I know no touch of confanguinity:
No kin, no love, no blood, no foul so near me,
As the fweet Troilus. O you God's divine!
Make Creffid's name the very crown of falfhood,
If ever the leave Troilus. Time and death,
Do to this body what extreams you can:
But the strong bafe and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all to it. I'll go in and weep,
Cre. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks, Crack my clear voice with fobs, and break my heart With founding Troilus. I'll not go from Troy. [Exeunt SCENE V. Before Pandarus's Houfe. Enter Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes.
Par. It is great morning, and the hour prefixt Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes faft upon us : good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the Lady what he is to do,
And hafte her to the purpose.
Troi. Walk into 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
A priest, there offering to it his heart.
Par. I know what 'tis to love,
And would, as I fhall pity, I could help!
Pleafe you walk in, my Lords,
SCENE VI.
An Apartment in Pandarus's Houfe.
Enter Pandarus and Creffida.
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
Cre. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect that I tafte,
And in its fenfe is no lefs ftrong, than that
Which caufeth 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 drofs,
Enter Troilus.
No more my grief, in fuch a precious lofs.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes,
Cre. O Troilus, Troilus!
Pan. What a pair of fpectacles is here! let me embrace too: O beart, (as the goodly faying is ;)
O heart, O beavy heart,
Why figb'ft thou without breaking ?
where he answers again;
Because thou can'ft not ease thy fmart,
By friendship nor by speaking.
There was never a truer rhyme. Let us caft away nothing, for we may live to have need of fuch a verfe; we fee it, we fee it. How now, lambs ?
Troi. Crefid, I love thee in fo ftrange a purity,
That the bleft Gods, as angry with my fancy,
(More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities) take thee from me.
Cre. Have the Gods envy?
Pan. Ay, ay, 'tis too plain a cafe.
Gre. And is it true, that I must go from Troy?
Trai. A hateful truth.
Cre. What, and from Troilus too?
Troi. From Troy, and Troilus,
Cre. Is it poffible?
Troi. And fuddenly: while injury of chance ›
Puts back leave-taking, juftles roughly by
All time of paufe, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoyndure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embraces, ftrangles our dear vows,
Ev'n in the birth of our own labouring breath.
We two, that with fo many thousand fighs
Each other bought, muft poorly fell our felves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious Time now with a robber's hafte
Crams his rich thiev'ry up he knows not how.
As many farewels as be ftars in heav'n,
With diftinct breath and confign'd kiffes to them,
He fumbles up all in one loofe adieu;
And scants us with a fingle famifh'd kifs,
Diftafted with the falt of broken tears.
Ene. [Within.] My Lord, is the Lady ready?
Troi. Hark, you are call'd. Some fay, the Genius fo
Cries, come, to him that inftantly muft die.
Bid them have patience; fhe fhall come anon.
Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or
my heart will be blown up by the root.
Cre. I muft then to the Grecians?
Troi. No remedy.
Cre. A woeful Creffid 'mongst the merry
When fhall we see again?
Troi. Hear me, my love; be thou but true of heart -
Cre. I true? how now? what wicked deem is this?
Troi. Nay, we must use expoftulation kindly,
For it is parting from us :
I fpeak not be thou true, as fearing thee:
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart';
But be thou true fay I, to fashion in
My fequent proteftation: be thou true,
And I will fee thee.
Cre. O, you fhall be expos'd, my Lord, to dangers
As infinite, as imminent; but I'll be true.
Troi. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this fleeve. Cre. And you this glove. When fhall I fee you then? Troi. I will corrupt the Grecian centinels
To give thee nightly vifitation.
Cre. O heav'ns! be true again?
Troi. Hear why I fpeak it, love the Grecian youths Are full of fubtle qualities, they're loving,
They're well compos'd, with gifts of nature flowing,
And fwelling o'er with arts and exercise;
How novelties may move, and parts with perfon-
Alas, a kind of godly jealoufie
(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous fin)
Makes me afraid.
Cre. O heav'ns! you love me not.
Troi. Die I a villain then!
In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit: I can't fing
Nor heel the high lavolt; nor sweeten talk
Nor play at fubtle games; fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant.
But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a ftill and dumb-difcourfive devil,
That tempts moft cunningly: but be not tempted.
Cre. Do you think I will ?
But fomething may be done that we will not :
And fometimes we are devils to our felves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Prefuming on their changeful potency.
Ene. [Within.] Nay, good my Lord-
Troi. Come kifs, and let us part.
Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus!
Troi. Good brother, come you hither,
And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you.
Cre. My Lord, will you be true?
Troi. Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault :
While others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch meer fimplicity.
While fome with cunning gild their copper crowns,
With truth and plainnefs I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit
Is plain and true, there's all the reach of it.
Enter Æneas, Paris, and Diomedes.
Welcome, Sir Diomede; here is the Lady,
Whom for Antenor we deliver you.
At the port (Lord) I'll give her to thy hand,
And by the way poffefs thee what the is.
Entreat her fair, and by my foul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou ftand at mercy of my fword,
Name Creffid, and thy life fhall be as fafe
As Priam's is in Ilion,
So please you, fave the thanks this Prince expects:
The luftre in your eye, heav'n in your cheek,
Plead your fair usage; and to Diomede
You fhall be mistress, and command him wholly.
Troi. Grecian, thou doft not use me courteously,
To fhame the zeal of my petition towards thee
By praifing her. I tell thee, Lord of Greece,
She is as far high-foaring o'er thy praises,
As thou unworthy to be call'd her fervant.
I charge thee ufe her well, even for my charge:
For by the dreadful Pluto, if thou doft not,
(Tho' the great bulk Achilles be thy guard)
I'll cut thy throat.
Dio. Oh be not mov'd, Prince Troilus.
Let me be privileg'd by my place and message,
To be a fpeaker free. When I am hence,
I'll answer to my lift and know, my Lord,
I'll nothing do on charge; to her own worth
She fhall be priz'd: but that you fay, be't so ;
I'll speak it in my fpirit and honour
Troi. Come to the port -
I'll tell thee, Diomede,
This brave fhall oft make thee to hide thy head.
Lady, give me your hand- and as we walk,
To our own felves bend we our needful talk.
Par. Hark, Hector's trumpet!
Ene. How have we fpent this morning! The Prince muft think me tardy and remiss, That fwore to ride before him in the field.
|