The poison's kind: the more I drink of it,
The sooner 'twill dispatch me.

En. to Pand. Peace, thou babbler!

Pand. She has been mightily made on by the Greeks she takes most wonderfully among 'em. Achilles kissed her, and Patroclus kissed her: nay, and old Nestor put aside his grey beard, and brushed her with his whiskers. Then comes me Agamemnon with his general's staff, diving with a low bow even to the ground, and rising again, just at her lips: and after him came Ulysses, and Ajax, and Menelaus and they so pelted her, i̇faith, pitter patter, pitter patter, as thick as hail-stones. And after that, a whole rout of 'em: never was a woman in Phrygia better kissed.

Troil. [Aside.] Hector said true: I find, I find it

now!

Pand. And, last of all, comes me Diomede, so demurely that's a notable sly rogue, I warrant him! mercy upon us, how he laid her on upon the lips! for, as I told you, she's most mightily made on among the Greeks. What, cheer up, I say, man! she has every one's good word. I think, in my conscience, she was born with a caul upon her head.

Troil. [Aside.] Hell, death, confusion, how he tortures me!

Pand. And that rogue-priest, my brother, is so courted and treated for her sake: the young sparks do so pull him about, and haul him by the cassock: nothing but invitations to his tent, and his tent, and his tent. Nay, and one of 'em was so bold, as to ask him, if she were a virgin; and with that, the rogue, my brother, takes me up a little god in his hand, and kisses it, and swears devoutly that she was; then was I ready to burst my sides with laughing, to think what had passed betwixt you

two.

Troil. O I can bear no more! she's falsehood all: False by both kinds; for with her mother's milk She sucked the infusion of her father's soul. She only wants an opportunity;

Her soul's a whore already.

Pand. What, would you make a monopoly of a woman's lips? a little consolation, or so, might be allowed, one would think, in a lover's absence. Troil. Hence from my sight!

Let ignominy brand thy hated name;
Let modest matrons at thy mention start;
And blushing virgins, when they read our annals,
Skip o'er the guilty page that holds thy legend,
And blots the noble work.

Pand. O world, world: thou art an ungrateful patch of earth! Thus the poor agent is despised! he labours painfully in his calling, and trudges between parties: but when their turns are served, come out's too good for him. I am mighty melancholy. I'll e'en go home, and shut up my doors, and die o' the sullens, like an old bird in a cage!

[Exit PANDARus.

Enter DIOMEDE and THERSITES.

Thers. [Aside.] There, there he is; now let it work: now play thy part, jealousy, and twinge'em: put 'em between thy mill-stones, and grind the rogues together.

Diom. My lord, I am by Ajax sent to inform you, This hour must end the truce.

En. to Troil. Contain yourself:

Think where we are.

hit.

Diom. Your stay will be unsafe.
Troil. It may, for those I hate.

Thers. [Aside.] Well said, Trojan: there's the first

Diom. Beseech you, sir, make haste; my own affairs call me another way.

Thers. [Aside.] What affairs? what affairs? demand that, dolt-head! the rogue will lose a quarrel, for want of wit to ask that question.

Troil. May I enquire where your affairs conduct you?

Thers. [Aside.] Well said again; I beg thy pardon. Diom. Oh, it concerns you not.

Troil. Perhaps it does.

Diom. You are too inquisitive: nor am I bound To satisfy an enemy's request.

Troil. You have a ring upon your finger, Diomede, And given you by a lady.

Dim. If it were,

'Twas given to one that can defend her gift.

Thers. [Aside.] So, so; the boars begin to gruntle at one another: set up your bristles now, a' both sides: whet and foam, rogues.

Troil. You must restore it, Greek, by heaven

must;

No spoil of mine shall grace a traitor's hand:
And, with it, give me back the broken vows
Of my false fair; which, perjured as she is,
I never will resign, but with my soul.

you

Diom. Then thou, it seems, art that forsaken fool, Who, wanting merit to preserve her heart, Repines in vain to see it better placed;

But know, (for now I take a pride to grieve thee)
Thou art so lost a thing iu her esteem,

I never heard thee named, but some scorn followed;
Thou wert our table-talk for laughing meals;
Thy name our sportful theme for evening-walks,
And intermissive hours of cooler love,

When hand in hand we went.

Troil. Hell and furies!

Thers. [Aside.] O well stung, scorpion!

Now Menelaus's Greek horns are out o' doors,
there's a new cuckold starts up on the Trojan side.
Troil. Yet this was she, ye gods, that very she,
Who in my arms lay melting all the night;
Who kissed and sighed, and sighed and kissed again,
As if her soul flew upward to her lips,

To meet mine there, and panted at the passage;
Who, loth to find the breaking day, looked out,
And shrunk into my bosom, there to make
A little longer darkness.

Diom. Plagues and tortures!

Thers. Good, good, by Pluto! their fool's mad, to lose his harlot; and our fool's mad, that t'other fool had her first. If I sought peace now, I could tell 'em there's punk enough to satisfy 'em both; whore sufficient! but let 'em worry one another, the fool ish curs; they think they never can have enough of carrion.

En. My lords, this fury is not proper here
In time of truce; if either side be injured,
To-morrow's sun will rise apace, and then-

Troil. And then! but why should I defer till then?
My blood calls now, there is no truce for traitors;
My vengeance rolls within my breast; it must,
It will have vent,
[Draws.

Diom. Hinder us not, Æneas,
My blood rides high as his; I trust thy honour,
And know thou art too brave a foe to break it.

[Draws. Thers. Now, moon! now shine, sweet moon! let them have just light enough to make their passes; and not enough to ward them.

En. [Drawing too.] By heaven, he comes on this, who strikes the first.

You both are mad; is this like gallant men,
To fight at midnight; at the murderer's hour;

When only guilt and rapine draw a sword?
Let night enjoy her dues of soft repose;
But let the sun behold the brave man's courage.
And this I dare engage for Diomede,-

Foe though I am,-he shall not hide his head,
But meet you in the very face of danger.

Diom. [Putting up.] Be't so; and were it on some precipice,

High as Olympus, and a sea beneath,

Call when thou dar'st, just on the sharpest point I'll meet, and tumble with thee to destruction.

Troil. A gnawing conscience haunts not guilty men, As I'll haunt thee, to summon thee to this; Nay, shouldst thou take the Stygian lake for refuge, I'll plunge in after, through the boiling flames, To push thee hissing down the vast abyss. Diom. Where shall we meet?

Troil. Before the tent of Calchas. Thither, through all your troops, I'll fight my way; And in the sight of perjured Cressida, Give death to her through thee.

Diom. 'Tis largely promised;

But I disdain to answer with a boast.
Be sure thou shalt be met.

Troil. And thou be found.

[Exeunt TROILUS and ÆNEAS one way; DIOMEDE the other.

Thers. Now the furies take Æneas, for letting them sleep upon their quarrel; who knows but rest may cool their brains, and make them rise maukish to mischief upon consideration? May each of them dream he sees his cockatrice in t'other's arms; and be stabbing one another in their sleep, to remember them of their business when they wake: let them be punctual to the point of honour; and, if it were possible, let both be first at the place of execution;