Imatges de pÓgina

Cre. 'Twas one that lov’d me better than you will.
But now you have it, take it.

Dio. Whose was it ?

Cre. By all Diana's waiting-women yonder,
And by her self, I will not tell you whose.

Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm,
And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.

Troi. Wert thou the devil, and worst it on thy horn,
It should be challeng’d.

Cre. Well, well, 'tis done, ’tis past; and yet it is not ----
I will not keep my word.

Dio. Why then farewel,
Thou never shalt mock Diomede again.

Cre. You shall not go ;---- one cannot speak a word,
But it straight starts you.

Dio. I do not like this fooling.

Ther. Nor I, by Pluto: but that that likes not you, pleases me best.

Dio. What, shall I come the hour?
Cre. Ay, come: ---- O Jove! ---do, come :---I shall be plagu’d.
Dio. Farewell 'till then.

Cre. Good-night: I pr’ythee come.
Troilus, farewel; one eye yet looks on thee,
But with

my heart the other eye doth see
Ab poor our sex ; this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind.
What'error leads, must err: O then conclude,
Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude.



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Ther. A proof of strength she could not publish more;
Unless she say, my mind is now turn’d whore.


Ulys. All's done, my lord.
Troi. It is.
Ulys. Why stay we then ?

Troi. To make a recordation to my soul,
Of every syllable that here was spoke:
But if I tell how these two did co-act,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
An esperance so obstinately strong,
That doth invert that test of eyes and ears ;
As if those organs had deceptious functions,
Created only to calumniate.
Was Cresid here?

Ulys. I cannot conjure, Trojan.
Troi. She was not sure.
Ulys. Most sure she was.
Troi. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.
Ulys. Nor mine, my lord: Cresid was here but now.

Troi. Let it not be believ'd, for woman-hood!
Think we had mothers; do not give advantage
To stubborn criticks, apt without a theme
For depravation, to square all the sex
By Cressid's rule. Rather think this not Cresid.

Ulys. What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our mothers ?
Troi, Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
Ther. Will he swagger himself out of his own eyes ?

Troi. This. The? no, this is Diomede's Cressida.
If beauty have a soul, this is not she:
If souls guide vows, if vows are sanctimony,
If sanctimony be the gods delight,
If there be rule in unity it self,
This is not she. O madness of discourse!
That cause sets up with and against thy felf!
Vol. VI.



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By-fold authority! where reason can rerols
Without perdition, loss assume all reason
Without revolt. This is, and is not Cressid.
Within my soul there doth commence a fight
Of this strange nature, that a thing infeparate
Divides far wider than the sky and earth,

yet the spacious breadth of this division
Admits no orifice for a point as fubtle
As slight Arachne's broken woof, to enter.
Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates ;
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heavin:
Instance, O instance! strong as heav'o it felf,
The bonds of heav'n are ship’d, dissolv'd and loos’d,
And with another knot five-finger-tied:
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasie reliques
Of her o'er-earen faith, are bound to Diomede.

Ulys. May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
With that which here his passion doth exprefs?

Troi. Ay, Greek, and that shall be divulged well;
In characters, as red as Mars his heart
Inflam'd with Venus ---- ne'er did young man fancy
With so eternal, and fo fix'd a soul
Hark, Greek, as much as I do Cressid love,
So much by weight hare I her Diomede.
That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear in his helm:
Were it a cask compos’d by Vulcan's skill,
My sword should bite it: nor the dreadful spout,
Which ship-men do the hurricano call,
Constring’d in mass by the almighty fun,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomede.

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By foul authority.

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Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy.

Troi. O Cressid! O false Cresid! false, false, false!
Let all antruths stand by thy stained name,
And they'll seem glorious.

Ulys. O contain your self:
Your passion draws ears hither.

Enter Æneas.
Æne. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord:
Hector by this is arming him in Troy.
Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you

Troi. Have with you, prince; my courteous lord adieu.
Farewel, revolted fair : and, Diomede,
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head.

Ulys. I'll bring you to the gates.
Troi. Accept distracted thanks.

(Exeunt Troilus, Æneas, and Ulysses. Ther. Would I could meet that rogue Diomede, I would croak like a raven: I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore: the parrot will not do more for an almond, than he for a commodious drab: letchery, letchery, still wars and letchery, nothing else holds falhion. A burning devil take them!


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Enter Hector and Andromache.
And. THEN was my lord so much ungently temper’d,

To stop his ears against admonishment?
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.

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Hext. You train me to offend you; get you gone.
By all the everlasting gods, I'll go.

Ant. My dreams will fure prove ominous to-day.
Heat. No more, I say.

Enter Cassandra.
Caf. Where is my brother Hector?

And. Here fister, arm’d, and bloody in intent:
Consort 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 slaughter.

Caj. o, 'tis true.
Heft. Ho! bid my trumpet found.
Cas. No notes of sally, for the heav'ns, sweet brother.
Hečt. Be gone, I say: the gods have heard me swear.

Caf. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr’d
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.

And. O be perswaded, do not count it holy,
To hurt by being just; 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 strong the vow;
But vows to every purpose must not hold:
Unarm, sweet Hector

He£t. Hold you still, I say;
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 Troilas.

How now, young man; mean'st thou to fight to-day?


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