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Writing their own reproach) to whose soft seizure
The ciynet's down is harsh, * and (spite of sense)
Hard as the palm of ploughman. This thou tell'st me;
(As, true thou tell'ft'me ;) when I say, I love her:
But saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'ft, in every galh that love hath given me,
The knife that made it.

Pan. I speak no more than truth.
Troi, Thou dost not speak so much.

Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is, if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; and she be not, she has the mends in her own hands,

Troi. Good Pandarus; how now, Pandarus?

Pan. I have had my labour for my travel, ill thought on of her, and ill thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.

Troi. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with

me ?

Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen; and the were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not, an she were a black-amoor ; is all one to me.

Troi. Say I, she is not fair ?
Pan. I do not care whether you

do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father : let her to the Greeks, and so I'll tell her the next time I see her : for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i'th' matter.

Troi. Pandarus,
Pan. Not I.
Troi. Sweet Pandarus,-
Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave

—and Spirit of sense

Hard as the palm of ploughman. ---] Read, and (Spite of sense) in a Parenthesis. The Meaning is, tho' our Senses contradid it never so much, yet the cignet's down is not only harsh, when compared to the Sofiness of Grefid's Hand, but hard as the Hand of Ploughman. VOL IX. B


all as I found it, and there's an end. {Exit Pandarus.

[Sound Alarm. Troi. Peace, you ungracious clamours ! peace,

rude sounds ! Fools on both sides.-Helen must needs be fair, When with your blood you daily paint her thus. I cannot fight upon this argument, It is too starv'd a subject for my sword : But Pandarus-O Gods ! how do you plague me! I cannot come to Cresid, but by Pandar; And he's as' teachy to be woo'd to woo, As she is stubborn-chalte against all suit. Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, What Crefid is, what Pandar, and what we: Her bed is India, there she lies, a pearl : Between our Ilium, and where the resides, Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood; Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar, Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.



(Alarm.] Enter Æneas. Æne. OW now, Prince Troilus ? wherefore not

i th' field ?
Troi. Because not there; this woman's answer forts,
For womanish it is to be from thence :
What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?

Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Troi. By whon, Æneas ?
Æne. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorn :
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.

Alarm. Æne, Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day?

Troi. Better at home, it would I might, were may-
But to the sport abroad-are you bound thither?

Æne. In all swift haste.
Troi. Come, go we then together, Exeunt.


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Changes to a public Street, near the Walls if Troy.

Enter Creslida, and her Servant, Cre. HO were those went by?

Ser. Queen Hecuba and Helen.
Cre. And whither go they ?

Ser. Up to th' eastern tower,
Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
To see the fight. * Hector, whose patience
Is, as the Virtue fix'd, to-day was mov'd :
He chid Andromache, and struck his armorer;
And like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the Sun rose, he was harneft light,
And to the field goes he ; where ev'ry flower
Did as a prophet weep what it foresaw,
In Hector's wrath.

Cre. What was his cause of anger ?

Ser. The noise goes thus; There is among the Greeks A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to He&tor, They call him Ajax.

Cre. Good; and what of him ?

Ser. They say, he is a very man per fe, and stands alone.

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

Ser. This man, lady, hath robb’d many beasts of their particular additions ; he is as valiant as the lion, churlifh as the bear, flow as the elephant; a man

-He&or, whose patience Is, as a Virtue, fix'd,- -] Patience sure was a Virtue, and therefore cannot, in Propriety of Expression, be said to be like one. We should read, -- Is as the Virtue fix'd.ic. his Patience is as fixed as the Goddess Patience herself. So we find Troilus a little tefore saying,

Patience herself what Goddess i'er the be,
Doth leffer blench at sufferance than I do.


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into whom Nature hath so crouded humours, * that his valour is crufted into folly, his folly fauced with discrecion : there is no man hath a virtue, that he has not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, but he carries fome itain of it. He is melancholy without cause, 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 use; or purblind Argus, all eyes and no fight.

Cre. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hellor angry?

Ser. They say, he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battle and struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof haih ever since kept Hector fafting and waking


Cre. W seo

. Mada me your uncle Pandarus.

Enter Pandarus.
Cre. HO comes here ?

uncle Pandarus.
Cre. Hector's a gallant man.
Ser. As may be in the world, lady.
Pan. What's that? what's that?
Cre. Good-morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Tan. Good-morrow, cousin Creffid; what do you talk of? Good-morrow, Alexander ;-how do you, cousin ? when were you at Ilium ?

Cre. This morning, uncle.

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

* that his valour is crusht into folly, his folly fauced with discretion : ) Valour crusht into Folly is Nonsense ; but it is of the first Editor's making ; who seeing crouded go before, concluded that crusht (which is oft indeed the Consequence) must needs follow.

He did not observe that the Poet here employs a Kitchen-metaphor, which would have led laim to the true Reading, His Valour is crufted into Folly, his Folly fauced with Difcretion.


Cre. He&tor was gone ; but Helen was not up:
Pan. E'en fo ; Hetor was stirring early.
Cre. That were we talking of, and of his anger.
Pan. Was he angry?
Cre. So he says, here.

Pan. True, he was so`; I know the cause 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. Oh, Jupiter ! there's no comparison.

Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hedor ? do you know a man,

if you

see him ? Cre. Ay, if I ever saw him before, and knew him. Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.

Cre. Then you say, as I say; for I am sure, he is not Hector.

Pan. No, nor He&or is not Troilus in some degrees.
Cre. 'Tis just to each of them, he is himfelf.
Pan. Himself? alas, poor Troilus! I'would, he were.
Cre. So he is.
Pan. 'Condition, I had gone bare-foot to India,
Cre. He is not Hector.

Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself; 'would, he were himself! well, the Gods are above ; time must friend, or end; well, Troilus, well, I would, my heart were in her body!--no, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.

Cre. Excuse me.
Pan. He is elder.
Cre. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan. Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me another tale, when the other's come to't: Hector shall not have his wit this

year. Gre, He shall not need it, if he have his own. Pan. Nor his Qualities.


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