Ulyf. Nor mine, my Lord: Creffid was here but now. Troi. Let it not be believ'd, for woman-hood! Think we had mothers; do not give advantage To ftubborn criticks, apt without a theme For depravation, to fquare all the fex By Crefid's rule. Rather think this not Creffid. [thers? Uly. What hath the done, Prince, that can foil our mo- If beauty have a foul, this is not she: If fouls guide vows, if vows are fanctimony, If there be rule in unity it felf, This is not fhe. O madnefs of difcourfe! Revolt without perdition, lofs "affume Reafon without revolt. This is, and is not Crefid. Of this ftrange nature, that a thing infeparate The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, 5 affume all reason Inflam'd Inflam'd with Venus ne'er did young man fancy With fo eternal, and fo fix'd a foul That fleeve is mine, that he'll bear in his helm: Conftring'd in mafs by the almighty fun, Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy. Troi. O Creffid! O falfe Creffid! falfe, falfe, falfe! Let all untruths ftand by thy ftained name, And they'll feem glorious. Ulyf. O, contain your self: Your paffion draws ears hither. Enter Eneas. Ene. I have been feeking you this hour, my Lord: Hector by this is arming him in Troy. home. Ajax your guard ftays to conduct you home. [adieu! Troi. Have with you, Prince; my courteous Lord, Farewel, revolted fair! and, Diomede, Stand faft, and wear a caftle on thy head. Ulyf. I'll bring you to the gates. Troi. Accept diftracted thanks. [Exeunt Troilus, Æneas, and Ulyffes. 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, ftill wars and letchery, nothing elfe holds fashion. A burning devil take them! [Exit. And. WE Hen was my Lord fo much ungently temper'd, Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to day. Het. You train me to offend you; get you gone. And. My dreams will fure prove ominous to-day. Enter Caffandra. Caf. Where is my brother Helor? And. Here, fifter, arm'd, and bloody in intent : Confort with me in loud and dear petition; Purfue we him on knees; for I have dreamt Of bloody turbulence; and this whole night Hath nothing been but fhapes and forms of flaughter. Caf. O, it is true. Hect. Ho! bid my trumpet found. Caf. No notes of fally, for the heavn's fweet brother! Hect. Be gone, I fay: the Gods have heard me fwear. Caf. The Gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd Than fpotted livers in the facrifice. And. O! be perfwaded, do not count it holy To hurt by being juft; it were as lawful For us to count we give what's gain'd by thefts, Caf. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; Helt. Hold you ftill, I fay; Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate; Life Life every man holds dear, but the brave man Enter Troilus. How now, young man? mean't thou to fight to-day? And. Caffandra, call my father to perfwade. [Exit Caffandra. Hect. No, 'faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, I am to-day i'th' vein of chivalry: Let grow thy finews 'till their knots be strong, [youth: Troi. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you; Which better fits a lion than a man. Heft. What vice is that? good Troilus, chide me for it. Troi. When many times the captive Grecians fall Ev'n in the fan and wind of your fair fword, You bid them rife, and live. Helt. O, 'tis fair play. Troi. Fools-play, by heav'n, Hector. Troi. For love of all the Gods, Let's leave the hermit pity with our mothers; Troi. Hector, thus 'tis in wars. Het. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day. Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars Their eyes o'er-galled with recourfe of tears; G 3 SCENE 1 Enter Priam and Caffandra. Caf. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast: Priam. Hector, come, go back: Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath had vifions; Am like a prophet, fuddenly enrapt, Het. Eneas is a-field, And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks, Priam. But thou shalt not go. Helt. I must not break my faith: And. Do not, dear father. Helt. Andromache, I am offended with you. Makes all thefe bodements. Caf. O farewel, dear Hector : Look how thou dieft; look how thy eyes turn pale! cry, Hector, Hector's dead! O Hector! Troi. |