and fo I'll tell her, the next time I fee her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in the matter.

Troi. Pandarus,—

Pan. Not I.

Troi. Sweet Pandarus,

Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave all as I found it, and there an end.

[Exit Pandarus.

Sound alarum.

Troi. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude founds!

Fools on both fides! Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument;

It is too ftarv'd a fubject for my fword.

But Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Creffid, but by Pandar;
And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woo,
As fhe is stubborn-chafte against all fuit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Creffid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Her bed is India; there fhe lies, a pearl:
Between our Iliu and where she refides,
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Ourfelf, the merchant; and this failing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

>

[Alarum.]

Enter Æneas.

Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield? Troi. Because not there; This woman's anfwer forts, For womanifh it is to be from thence.

What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?

Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

teacby]-touchy, peevish.

Pour Ilium]-Priam's palace.

Troi. By whom, Æneas?
Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a fcar to fcorn;
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.

[Alarum. Ene. Hark! what good fport is out of town to-day! Troi. Better at home, if would I might, were may.— But, to the sport abroad;-Are you bound thither? Ene. In all fwift hafte.

Troi. Come, go we then together.

SCENE II.

A Street.

Enter Creffida, and Alexander her Servant.

Cre. Who were those went by?
Serv. Queen Hecuba, and Helen.
Cre. And whither go they?

Serv. Up to the eastern tower,
Whofe height commands as fubject all the vale,
To fee the battle. Hector, whofe patience
Is, as the virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd:
He chid Andromache, and ftruck his armourer;
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the fun rofe, he was harness'd light,
And to the field goes he; where every flower
Did, as a prophet, weep what it forefaw

I

In Hector's wrath.

[Exeunt.

Cre. What was his caufe of anger?

Serv. The noife goes, this: There is among the Greeks

A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;
They call him, Ajax.

↑ as the virtue]—as the Goddess herself.

barnefs'd light,]-equipped, and ready for action.

Cre.

Cre. Good; And what of him?

Serv. They fay he is a very man per fe, And ftands alone.

Cre. So do all men; unless they are drunk, fick, or have no legs.

Serv. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beafts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, flow as the elephant: a man into whom na`ture hath so crowded humours, that his valour is "crushed into folly, his folly fauced with difcretion: there is no man hath a virtue, that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, but he carries fome ftain of it: he is melancholy without caufe, and merry against the hair: He hath the joints of every thing; but every thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no ufe; or purblinded Argus, all eyes and no fight.

w

Cre. But how fhould this man, that makes me fmile, make Hector angry?

Serv. They fay, he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battle, and ftruck him down; the difdain and shame whereof hath ever fince kept Hector fafting and waking.

t

x

Enter Pandarus.

Cre. Who comes here?

Serv. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Cre. Hector's a gallant man.

Serv. As may be in the world, lady.

Pan. What's that? what's that?

S

a very man per fe,]-a very A per fe-an extraordinary perfonage.

t

particular additions ;]-diftinguishing qualities,

crubed-confufed, mingled with, incorporated.

"Crush him together"- CYMBELINE, A& I. S. 1.
the bair:]-the grain. Vol. I. p. 206.
cop'd]-encountered.

1 Gent.

Cre.

Cre. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. Pan. Good morrow, coufin Creffid: What do you talk of?-Good morrow, Alexander.-How do you, coufin? When were you at Ilium?

Cre. This morning, uncle.

Pan. What were you talking of, when I came ?
Was Hector arm'd, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium?
Helen was not up, was fhe?

Cre. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.
Pan. E'en fo; Hector was stirring early.

Cre. That were we talking of, and of his anger.
Pan. Was he angry?

Cre. So he fays here.

Pan. True, he was fo; I know the caufe too; he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there's Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus; I can tell them that too.

Cre. What, is he angry too?

Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the

two.

Cre. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison.

Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man, if you see him?

Cre. Ay; if I ever faw him before, and knew him.

Pan. Well, I fay, Troilus is Troilus.

Cre. Then you fay as I fay; for, I am fure, he is not Hector.

Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in fome degrees. Cre. 'Tis juft to each of them; he is himself.

Pan. Himfelf? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he

were,

Cre. So he is.

Pan. 'Condition, I had gone bare-foot to India.

z-Condition, I had gone]-If so, then have I gone.

z

Cre.

Cre. He is not Hector.

Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself.-'Would 'a were himself! Well, the gods are above; Time must friend, or end: Well, Troilus, well,-I would, my heart were No, Hector is not a better man than

in her body! Troilus.

Cre. Excufe me.

Pan. He is elder.

Cre. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan. The other's not come to't; you fhall tell me another tale, when the other's come to't. Hector shall not

have his wit this year.

Cre. He fhall not need it, if he have his own.

Pan. Nor his qualities.

Cre. No matter.

Pan. Nor his beauty.

Cre. 'Twould not become him, his own's better.

Pan. You have no judgment, niece: Helen herself fwore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour, (for fo 'tis, I must confefs)-Not brown neither.

Cre. No, but brown.

Pan. 'Faith, to fay truth, brown and not brown.
Cre. To fay the truth, true and not true.

Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris.
Cre. Why, Paris hath colour enough,

Pan. So he has.

Cre. Then, Troilus fhould have too much: if she prais'd him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praife for a good complexion. I had as lieve, Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nofe.

Pan. I fwear to you, I think, Helen loves him better than Paris.

Cre.