<T Tro><L 1><Y Q><P P2><C +>
 A never writer, to an ever
 reader. Newes.
*{Eternall reader, you have heere a new}
*{play, never stal'd with the Stage},
*{never clapper-#clawd with the palmes}
*{of the vulger, and yet passing full of}
*{the palme comicall; for it is a birth of}
*{your braine, that never under-#tooke}
*{any thing commicall, vainely: And}
*{were but the vaine names of commedies changde for the}
*{titles of Commodities, or of Playes for Pleas; you should}
*{see all those grand censors, that now stile them such}
*{vanities, flock to them for the maine grace of their}
*{gravities: especially this authors Commedies, that are}
*{so fram'd to the life, that they serve for the most com-mon}
*{Commentaries, of all the actions of our lives, shew-ing}
*{such a dexteritie, and power of witte, that the most}
*{displeased with Playes, are pleasd with his Commedies}.
*{And all such dull and heavy-#witted worldlings, as were}
*{never capable of the witte of a Commedie, comming by}
*{report of them to his representations, have found that}
*{witte there, that they never found in them-#selves, and}
*{have parted better wittied then they came: feeling an}
*{edge of witte set upon them, more then ever they}
*{dreamd they had braine to grinde it on. So much and}
*{such savored salt of witte is in his Commedies, that they}
*{seeme (for their height of pleasure) to be borne in that}
*{sea that brought forth} Venus. {Amongst all there is}
*{none more witty then this: And had I time I would}
*{comment upon it, though I know it needs not, (for so}
<P P2v><C !>
*{much as will make you thinke your testerne well be-stowd})
*{but for so much worth, as even poore I know to be}
*{stuft in it. It deserves such a labour, as well as the best}
*{Commedy in} Terence {or} Plautus. {And beleeve this},
*{That when hee is gone, and his Commedies out of sale},
*{you will scramble for them, and set up a new English}
*{Inquisition. Take this for a warning, and at the perrill}
*{of your pleasures losse and Judgements, refuse not, nor}
*{like this the lesse, for not being sullied, with the smoaky}
*{breath of the multitude; but thanke fortune for the}
*{scape it hath made amongst you. Since by the grand}
*{possessors wills I beleeve you should have prayd for them}
*{rather then beene prayd. And so I leave all such to bee}
 {prayd for (for the states of their wits healths)}
 {that will not praise it}.
 Vale.
 <D {Enter} Pandarus {and} Troylus.>
 <S {Troy}.> Call heere my varlet, Ile unarme againe,
*Why should I warre without the walls of Troy:
 That finde such cruell battell here within,
 Each Troyan that is maister of his heart,
 Let him to field {Troylus} alas hath none.
 <S {Pan}.> Will this geere nere be mended?
*<S {Troy}.> The Greeks are strong and skilfull to their strength
 Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenesse valiant,
 But I am weaker then a womans teare;
 Tamer then sleepe; fonder then ignorance,
 Lesse valiant then the Virgin in the night,
 And skillesse as unpractiz'd infancy:
*<S {Pan}.> Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part ile
*not meddle nor make no farther; hee that will have a cake
 out of the wheate must tarry the grynding.
 <S {Tro}.> Have I not tarried?
 <S {Pan}.> #I the grinding; but you must tarry the boulting.
 <S {Troy}.> Have I not tarried?
*<S {Pande}.> #I the boulting; but you must tarry the leavening.
 <S {Troy}.> Still have I tarried.
*<S {Pan}.> #I, to the leavening, but heares yet in the word here-after,
*the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating the
*oven, and the baking, nay you must stay the cooling too, or
 yea may chance burne your lippes.
 <S {Troy}.> Pacience her selfe, what Godesse ere she be,
 Doth lesser blench at suffrance then I do:
 At {Priams} royall table do I sit
 And when faire {Cressid} comes into my thoughts,
 So traitor then she comes when she is thence.
*<S {Pand}.> Well shee lookt yesternight fairer then ever I saw her
 looke, or any woman els.
 <S {Troy}.> I was about to tell thee when my heart,
<P A2v><C >
 As wedged with a sigh would rive in twaine,
 Least {Hector} or my father should perceive mee:
 I have (as when the Sunne doth light a scorne)
 Buried this sigh in wrincle of a smyle,
 But sorrow that is coucht in seeming gladnesse,
 Is like that mirth fate turnes to suddaine sadnesse.
*<S {Pan:}> #And her haire were not some-#what darker then {Hel-lens},
*well go to, there were no more comparison betweene
*the women! but for my part she is my kinswoman, I would
*not as they tearme it praise her, but I would som-#body had
*heard her talke yester-#day as I did, I will not dispraise your
 sister {Cassandraes} wit, but===
 <S {Troy}.> Oh {Pandarus} I tell thee {Pandarus},
 When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd
 Reply not in how many fadomes deepe,
 They lie indrench'd, I tell thee I am madde:
 In {Cressids} love? thou answerst she is faire,
 Powrest in the open ulcer of my heart:
 Her eyes, her haire her cheeke, her gate, her voice,
 Handlest in thy discourse: O that her hand
 In whose comparison all whites are ynke
 Writing their owne reproch; to whose soft seisure,
 The cignets downe is harsh, and spirit of sence:
 Hard as the palme of plow-#man; this thou telst me,
 As true thou telst me, when I say I love her,
 But saying thus in steed of oyle and balme,
 Thou layst in every gash that love hath given mee
 The knife that made it.
 <S {Pan:}> I speake no more then truth.
 <S {Troy}.> Thou dost not speake so much.
*<S {Pan:}> Faith Ile not meddle in it, let her bee as shee is, if she
*bee faire tis the better for her, and shee bee not, she has the
 mends in her owne hands.
 <S {Troy}.> Good {Pandarus}. how now {Pandarus}?
*<S {Pan:}> I have had my labour for my travell, #ill thought on
*of her, and #ill thought of you, gon betweene and betweene,
 but small thanks for my labour.
 <S {Troy}.> What art thou angry {Pandarus}? what with me?
<P A3>
*<S {Pan}.> Because shee's kin to me therefore shee's not so faire
*as {Hellen}, #and she were kin to me, she would be as faire #a Fri-day
*as {Hellen}, is on Sunday, but what I? I care not #and shee
 were a blackeamore, tis all one to mee.
 <S {Troy}.> Say I she is not faire?
*<S {Pan}.> I do not care whether you do or no, she's a foole to
*stay behinde her father let her to the Greekes, and so Ile tell
*her the next time I see her for my part Ile meddle nor make
 no more ith'#matter.
 <S {Troy}.> {Pandarus}. <S {Pan}.> Not I.
 <S {Troy}.> Sweete {Pandarus}.
*<S {Pan}.> Pray you speake no more to mee I will leave all as I
 found it and there an end.  <D {Exit}.>
 <D {Sound alarum}.>
 <S {Troy}.> Peace you ungracious clamors, peace rude sounds,
 Fooles on both sides, {Hellen} must needes be faire,
 When with your bloud you daylie paint her thus,
 I cannot fight upon this argument:
 It is too starv'd a subiect for my sword,
 But {Pandarus}: O gods! how do you plague me
 I cannot come to {Cressid} but by {Pandar},
 And he's as teachy to be wood to woe,
 As she is stubborne, chast, against all suite.
 Tell me {Apollo} for thy {Daphnes} love
 What {Cressid} is, what {Pandar}, and what we:
 Her bed is {India} there she lies, a pearle,
 Betweene our Ilium, and where shee recides
 Let it be cald the wild and wandring flood:
 Our selfe the Marchant, and this sayling {Pandar},
 Our doubtfull hope, our convoy and our barke.
 <D {Alarum Enter Aeneas}.>
 <S {Aene}.> How now prince {Troylus}, wherefore not #a field.
 <S {Troy}.> Because not there; this womans answer sorts,
 For womanish it is to be from thence.
 What newes {Aeneas} from the field to day?
 <S {Aene}.> That {Paris} is returned home and hurt.
 <S {Troy}.> By whom {Aeneas}?
 <S {Aene}.> {Troylus} by {Menelaus}.
<P A3v>
 <S {Troy}.> Let {Paris} bleed tis but a scar to scorne,
 {#Paris} is gor'd with {Menelaus} horne.  <D {Alarum}.>
 <S {Aene}.> Harke what good sport is out of towne to day.
 <S {Troy}.> Better at home, if #would I #might were #may:
 But to the sport abrode are you bound thither?
 <S {Aene}.> In all swift #hast.
 <S {Troy}.> Come goe wee then togither.  <D {Exeunt}.>
 <D {Enter} Cressid {and her man}.>
 <S {Cres}.> Who were those went by?
 <S {Man}.> Queene {Hecuba}, and {Hellen}.
 <S {Cres}.> And whether goe they?
 <S {Man}.> Up to the Easterne tower,
 Whose hight commands as subiect all the vaile,
 To see the battell: {Hector} whose pacience,
 Is as a vertue fixt, to day was mov'd:
 Hee chid {Andromache} and strooke his armorer,
 And like as there were husbandry in warre
 Before the Sunne rose, hee was harnest lyte,
 And to the field goes he; where every flower
 Did as a Prophet weepe what it foresawe,
 In {Hectors} wrath.  <S {Cres}.> What was his cause of anger.
 <S {Man}.> The noise goes this, there is amonge the Greekes,
 A Lord of Troian bloud, Nephew to {Hector},
 They call him {Aiax}.  <S {Cres}.> Good; and what of him.
*<S {Man}.> They say hee is a very man {per se} and stands alone.
*<S {Cres}.> So do all men unlesse they are dronke, sicke, or have no
 legges.
*<S {Man}.> This man Lady, hath rob'd many beasts of their par-ticular
*additions, hee is as valiant as the Lyon, churlish as
*the Beare, slowe as the Elephant: a man into whome nature
*hath so crowded humors, that his valour is crusht into folly,
*his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a ver-tue,
*that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any ma[n] an attaint, but
*he carries some staine of it. Hee is melancholy without cause
*and merry against the haire, hee hath the joynts of every
*thing, but every thing so out of joynt, that hee is a gowtie
*{Briareus}, many hands, & no use: or purblinde {Argus}, al eyes,
 and no sight.
<P A4>
*<S {Cres}.> But how should this man that makes me smile, make
 {#Hector} angry.
*<S {Man}> They say hee yesterday cop't {Hector} in the battell
*and stroke him downe, the disdaine and shame whereof
 hath ever since kept {Hector} fasting and waking.
 <S {Cres}.> Who comes here.
 <S {Man}> Maddam your uncle {Pandarus}.
 <S {Cres}.> {Hector}s a gallant man.
 <S {Man}> As may be in the world Lady.
 <S {Pand}.> Whats that? whats that?
 <S {Cres}.> Good morrow uncle {Pandarus}.
*<S {Pan}.> Good morrow cozen {Cressid}: what doe you talke of?
*good morrow {Alexander}: how doe you cozen? when were
 you at Illium?  <S {Cres}.> This morning uncle.
*<S {Pan}.> What were you talking of when I came? was {Hector}
*arm'd and gon ere yea came to Illium, {Hellen} was not up
 was she?  <S {Cres}.> {Hector} was gone but {Hellen} was not up?
 <S {Pan}.> E'ene so, {Hector} was stirring early.
 <S {Cres}.> That were wee talking of, and of his anger.
 <S {Pan:}> Was he angry?  <S {Cres:}> So he saies here.
*<S {Pan:}> True hee was so; I know the cause #to, heele lay about
*him to day I can tel them that, & ther's {Troylus} wil not come
*farre behind him, let them take heede of {Troylus}; I can tell
 them that too.  <S {Cres}.> What is he angry too?
 <S {Pan:}> Who {Troylus}? {Troylus} is the better man of the two:
 <S {Cres:}> Oh {Jupiter} ther's no comparison.
*<S {Pan:}> What not betweene {Troylus} and {Hector}? do you know
 a man if you see him?
 <S {Cres:}> #I, if I ever saw him before and knew him:
 <S {Pan:}> Well I say {Troylus} is {Troylus}:
*<S {Cres}.> Then you say as I say, for I am sure hee is not {Hector}.
 <S {Pan}.> No nor {Hector} is not {Troylus} in some degrees.
 <S {Cres}.> Tis just, to each of them he is himselfe.
 <S {Pan}.> Himselfe, alas poore {Troylus} I would he were.
 <S {Cres}.> So he is.
 <S {Pan}.> Condition I had gone bare-#foot to India.
 <S {Cres}.> He is not {Hector}.
*<S {Pan}.> Himselfe? no? hee's not himselfe, would #a were him-selfe,
<P A4v>
*well the Gods are above, time must friend or end well
*{#Troylus} well, I would my heart were in her body; no, {Hector}
 is not a better man then {Troylus}.
 <S {Cres}.> Excuse me.  <S {Pand}.> He is elder.
 <S {Cres}.> Pardon me, pardon me.
*<S {Pand}.> Th'#others not come too't, you shall tell me another
*tale when th'#others come too't, {Hector} shall not have his
 #will this yeare.
 <S {Cres}.> He shall not neede it if he have his owne.
 <S {Pand}.> Nor his qualities.
 <S {Cres}.> No matter.  <S {Pand}.> Nor his beautie.
 <S {Cres}.> Twould not become him, his own's better.
*<S {Pan}.> You have no judgement neece; {Hellen} her selfe
*swore th'#other day that {Troylus} for a browne favour ({for so}
 {tis I must confesse}) not browne neither.
 <S {Cres}.> No, but browne.
 <S {Pand}.> Faith to say truth, browne and not browne.
 <S {Cres}.> To say the truth, true and not true.
 <S {Pand}.> She praisd his complexion above {Paris},
 <S {Cres}.> Why {Paris} hath colour inough.  <S {Pand}.> So he has.
*<S {Cres}.> Then {Troylus} should have too much, if shee praizd
*him above, his complexion is higher then his, hee
*having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming
*a praise for a good complexion, I had as lieve {Helens} golden
 tongue had commended {Troylus} for a copper nose.
*<S {Pand}.> I sweare to you I thinke {Helen} loves him better then | ({Paris}.
 <S {Cres}.> Then shees a merry greeke indeed.
*<S {Pand}.> Nay I am sure she dooes, she came to him th'#other
*day into the compast window, and you know hee has not
 past three or foure haires on his chinne.
*<S {Cres}.> Indeed a Tapsters Arithmetique may soone bring
 his particulars therein to a totall.
*<S {Pand}.> Why he is very yong, and yet will he within three
 pound lifte as much as his brother {Hector}.
 <S {Cres}.> Is he so yong a man, and so old a lifter.
*<S {Pand}.> But to proove to you that {Hellen} loves him, shee
 came and puts mee her white hand to his cloven chin.
 <S {Cres}.> {Juno} have mercy, how came it cloven?
<P B1>
 <S {Pan}.> Why, you know tis dimpled,
*I thinke his smyling becomes him better then any man in
 all Phrigia.  <S {Cres}.> Oh he smiles valiantly.
 <S {Pan}.> Dooes hee not?
 <S {Cres}.> Oh yes, #and twere a clowd in {Autumne}.
*<S {Pan}.> Why go to then, but to prove to you that {Hellen}
 loves {Troylus}.
*<S {Cres}.> {Troylus} wil stand to thee proofe if youle proove it so.
*<S {Pan}.> {Troylus}, why hee esteemes her no more then I e-steeme
 an addle egge:
*<S {Cres}.> If you love an addle egge as well as you love an idle
 head you would eate chickens ith shell.
*<S {Pan}.> I cannot chuse but laugh to thinke how she ticled
*his chin, indeed shee has a marvel's white hand I must needs
 confesse.
 <S {Cres}.> Without the rack.
*<S {Pan}.> And shee takes upon her to spie a white heare on
 his chinne.
 <S {Cres}.> Alas poore chin many a wart is ritcher.
*<S {Pan}.> But there was such laughing, Queene {Hecuba} laught
 that her eyes ran ore.
 <S {Cres}.> With milstones.
 <S {Pan}.> And {Cassandra} laught.
*<S {Cres}.> But there was a more temperate fire under the pot
 of her eyes: did her eyes run ore #to?
 <S {Pan}.> And {Hector} laught.
 <S {Cres}.> At what was all this laughing.
*<S {Pan}.> Marry at the white heare that {Hellen} spied on {Troy-lus}
 chin.
*<S {Cres}.> #And t'had beene a greene heare I should have
 laught too.
*<S {Pan}.> They laught not so much at the heare as at his pret-ty
 answere.
 <S {Cres,}> What was his answere?
*<S {Pan}.> Quoth shee heere's but two and fifty heires on your
 chinne; and one of them is white.
 <S {Cres}.> This is her question.
*<S {Pan}.> Thats true, make no question of that, two and fiftie
<P B1v>
*heires quoth hee, and one white, that white heire is my fa-ther,
*and all the rest are his sonnes. {Jupiter} quoth shee, which
*of these heires is {Paris} my husband? the forked one quoth
*he, pluckt out and give it him: but there was such laughing,
*and {Hellen} so blusht, and {Paris} so chaf't, and all the rest so
 laught that it past.
*<S {Cres}.> So let it now for it has beene a great while going by.
*<S {Pan}.> Wel cozen I tould you a thing yesterday, think on't.
*<S {Pan}.> Ile be sworne tis true, he will weepe you #an#'twere a
 man borne in Aprill.  <D {Sound a retreate}.>
*<S {Cres}.> And Ile spring up in his teares #an'#twere a nettle a-gainst
 #May.
*<S {Pan}.> Harke they are comming from the field, shall we
*stand up here and see them as they passe toward Ilion, good
 Neece do, sweete Neece {Cresseida}.
 <S {Cres}.> At your pleasure.
*<S {Pan}.> Heere, here, here's an excellent place, here wee may
*see most bravely, ile tell you them all by their names, as they
 passe by, but marke {Troylus} above the rest.  <D {Enter Aeneas}.>
 <S {Cres}.> Speake not so lowde.
*<S {Pan}.> Thats {Aeneas}, is not that a brave man, hees one of
*the flowers of Troy I can tell you, but marke {Troylus}, you shal
 see anon.  <S {Cres}.> Who's that?
 <D {Enter Antenor}.>
*<S {Pan}.> Thats {Antenor}, he has a shrow'd wit I can tell you,
*and hee's man good enough, hees one o'th soundest judge-ments
*in Troy whosoever, and a proper man of person, when
*comes {Troylus}, ile shew you {Troylus} anon, if hee see me, you
 shall see him nod at mee.
 <S {Cres}.> Will he give you the nod:
 <S {Pan}.> You shall see:
 <S {Cres}.> If he do the ritch shall have more.  <D {Enter Hector}.>
*<S {Pan}.> Thats {Hector}, that, that, looke you that, thers a fel-low!
*goe thy way {Hector}, ther's a brave man Neece, O brave
*{#Hector}, looke how hee lookes, theres a countenance, ist not a
 brave man?
 <S {Cres}.> O a brave man.
<P B2>
*<S {Pan:}> Is #a not? it dooes a man heart good, looke you what
*hacks are on his helmet, looke you yonder, do you see, looke
*you there, thers no jesting, thers laying on, takt off, who will
 as they say, there be hacks.
 <S {Cres}.> Be those with swords.
 <D {Enter Paris}.>
*<S {Pan:}> Swords, any thing he cares not, #and the divell come to
*him, its all one, by Gods lid it dooes ones heart good. Yon-der
*comes {Paris}, yonder comes {Paris}, looke yee yonder
*Neece, ist not a gallant man #to, ist not, why this is brave now,
*who said he came hurt home to day. Hee's not hurt, why this
*will do {Hellens} heart good now ha? would I could see {Troy-lus}
 now, you shall see {Troylus} anon.
 <S {Cres}.> Whose that?
 <D {Enter Helenus:}>
*<S {Pan}.> Thats {Helenus}, I marvell where {Troylus} is, thats {He-lenus},
 I thinke he went not forth to day, thats {Helenus}.
 <S {Cres:}> Can {Helenus} fight uncle?
*<S {Pan:}> {Helenus} no: yes heele fight indifferent, well, I marvell
*where {Troylus} is; harke doe you not here the people crie
 {Troylus}? {Helenus} is a priest;
 <S {Cres:}> What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
 <D {Enter Troylus}.>
*<S {Panda:}> Where? yonder? thats {Deiphobus}. Tis {Troylus}!
*theres a man Neece, hem? brave {Troylus} the Prince of
 chivalrie.
 <S {Cres}.> Peace for shame peace.
*<S {Pan}.> Marke him, note him: O brave {Troylus}, looke well
*upon him Neece, looke you how his sword is bloudied, and
*his helme more hackt then {Hectors}, and how hee lookes, and
*how hee goes? O admirable youth, hee never saw three and
*twenty, go thy way {Troylus}, go thy way, had I a sister were a
*grace, or a daughter a Goddesse, hee should take his choice,
*O admirable man! {Paris}? {Paris} is durt to him, and I warrant
 {Hellen} to change would give an eye to boote.
 <S {Cres}.> Here comes more.
*<S {Pa}.> Asses, fooles, doults, chaff & bran, chaff & bran, porredge
*after meate, I could live and die in the eyes of {Troylus}, nere
<P B2v>
*looke, nere looke, the Eagles are gonne, crowes and dawes,
*crowes and dawes, I had rather bee such a man as {Troylus},
 then {Agamemnon} and all Greece.
*<S {Cres}.> There is amongst the Greekes {Achilles} a better
 man then {Troylus}.
 <S {Pan}.> {Achilles}, a dray-#man, a porter, a very Cammell.
 <S {Cres}.> Well, well:
*<S {Pan}.> Well, well, why have you any discretion, have you
*any eyes, doe you know what a man is? is not birth, beauty,
*good shape, discourse, man-#hood, learning, gentlenesse, ver-tue
*youth, liberallity and such like, the spice & salt that sea-son
 a man.
*<S {Cres}.> #I a minst man, and then to bee bak't with no date in
 the pie, for then the mans date is out:
*<S {Pan}.> You are such a woman a man knowes not at what
 ward you lie:
*<S {Cres:}> Upon my backe to defend my bellie, upon my wit
*to defend my wiles, upon my secrecy to defend mine hones-ty,
*my maske to defend my beauty, and you to defend all
 these: and at al these wards I lie, at a thousand watches.
 <S {Pan}.> Say one of your watches.
*<S {Cres}.> Nay Ile watch you for that; and thats one of the
*chiefest of them two: If I cannot ward what I would not
*have hit: I can watch you for telling how I tooke the blowe
 unlesse it swell past hiding, and then its past watching:
 <S {Pan:}> You are such another:  <D {Enter Boy:}>
 <S {Boy:}> Sir my Lord would instantlie speake with you.
 <S {Pan:}> Where?
 <S {Boy:}> At your owne house there he unarmes him:
*<S {Pan}.> Good boy tell him I come, I doubt he be hurt, fare ye
 well good Neice:  <S {Cres:}> Adiew uncle:
 <S {Pan:}> I wilbe with you Neice #by and by:
 <S {Cres:}> To bring uncle:  <S {Pan:}> #I a token from {Troylus}!
 <S {Cres:}> By the same token you are a Bawde,
 Words, vowes, guifts, teares and loves full sacrifize:
 He offers in anothers enterprize,
 But more in {Troylus} thousand fould I see,
 Then in the glasse of {Pandars} praise may bee:
<P B3>
 Yet hold I off: women are angels woing,
 "Things woone are done, joyes soule lies in the dooing.
 That shee belov'd, knows naught that knows not this,
 "Men price the thing ungaind more then it is,
 That she was never yet that ever knew
 Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue,
 Therefore this {maxim} out of love I teach,
 "{Atchivement is command; ungaind beseech},
 Then though my hearts content firme love doth beare,
 Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appeare.  <D {Exit}.>
 <D {Enter} Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulisses, Diomedes,
 Menelaus {with others}.>
*<S {Aga}.> Princes: what griefe hath set these Jaundies ore your | (cheekes?
 The ample proposition that hope makes,
 In all designes begun on earth below,
 Failes in the promist largenesse, checks and disasters,
 Grow in the vaines of actions highest reard.
 As knots by the conflux of meeting sap,
 Infects the sound Pine, and diverts his graine,
 Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
 Nor Princes is it matter new to us,
 That we come short of our suppose so farre,
 That after seaven yeares siege, yet Troy walls stand,
 Sith ever action that hath gone before,
 Whereof we have record, triall did draw,
 Bias and thwart: not answering the ayme,
 And that unbodied figure of the thought,
 That gav't surmised shape: why then you Princes,
 Do you with cheekes abasht behold our workes,
 And call them shames which are indeed naught else,
 But the protractive tryals of great {Jove},
 To finde persistive constancie in men.
 The finenesse of which mettall is not found,
 In fortunes love: for then the bould and coward,
 The wise and foole, the Artist and unread,
 The hard and soft seeme all affyn'd and kin,
 But in the winde and tempest of her frowne,
 Distinction with a broad and powerfull fan,
<P B3v>
 Puffing at all, winnowes the light away,
 And what hath masse or matter by it selfe,
 Lyes rich in vertue and unmingled.
 <S {Nestor}.> With due observance of the godlike seate,
 Great {Agamemnon}, {Nestor} shall apply
 Thy latest words. In the reproofe of chance,
 Lies the true proofe of men: the sea being smooth,
 How many shallow bauble boates dare saile,
 Upon her ancient brest, making their way
 With those of nobler bulke?
 But let the ruffian {Boreas} once enrage
 The gentle {Thetis}, and anon, behold
 The strong ribbd barke through liquid mountaines cut,
 Bounding betweene the two moyst elements,
 Like {Perseus} horse. Where's then the sawcie boate,
 Whose weake untymberd sides but even now
 Corrivald greatnesse? either to harbor fled,
 Or made a toste for {Neptune}: even so
 Doth valours shew, and valours worth devide
 In stormes of fortune; for in her ray and brightnesse
 Makes flexible the knees of knotted Okes,
*And Flies fled under shade, why then the thing of courage,
 As rouzd with rage, with rage doth simpathize,
 And with an accent tun'd in selfe same key,
 Retires to chiding fortune.
 <S {Uliss}.> {Agamemnon},
 Thou great Commander, nerves and bone of Greece,
 Heart of our numbers, soule and onely spright,
 In whom the tempers and the minds of all
 Should be shut up: #heere what {Ulisses} speakes,
 Besides th'#applause and approbation,
 The which most mighty (for thy place and sway
 And thou most reverend) for the stretcht out life,
 I give to both your speeches; which were such
 As {Agamemnon} and the hand of Greece,
 Should hold up high in brasse, and such againe
<P B4>
 As venerable {Nestor} (hatcht in silver)
 Should with a bond of ayre strong as the Axel-#tree,
 (On which heaven rides) knit all the Greekish eares
 To his experienc't tongue, yet let it please both
 Thou great and wise, to heare {Ulisses} speake.
 And the great {Hectors} sword had lackt a master
 But for these instances.
 The specialtie of rule hath beene neglected,
 And looke how many Grecian tents do stand,
 Hollow upon this plaine, so many hollow factions,
 When that the generall is not like the hive,
 To whom the forragers shall all repaire,
 What honey is expected? Degree being visarded
 Th'#unworthiest shewes as fairly in the maske.
 The heavens them-#selves, the plannets and this center
 Observe degree, prioritie and place,
 In sisture, course, proportion, season, forme,
 Office and custome, in all line of order.
 And therefore is the glorious planet Sol,
 In noble eminence enthron'd and spherd,
 Amidst the other; whose medcinable eye,
 Corrects the influence of evill Planets,
 And posts like the Commandment of a King,
 Sans check to good and bad. But when the Planets,
 In evill mixture to disorder wander,
 What plagues, and what portents, what mutinie?
 What raging of the sea, shaking of earth?
 Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors
 Divert and crack, rend and deracinate,
 The unitie and married calme of states
 Quite from their fixure: O when degree is shakt,
 Which is the ladder of all high designes,
 The enterprise is sick. How could communities,
 Degrees in schooles, and brother-#hoods in Citties,
 Peacefull commerce from devidable shores,
 The primogenitie and due of birth,
 Prerogative of age, crownes, scepters, lawrels,
<P B4v>
 But by degree stand in authentique place:
 Take but degree away, untune that string,
 And harke what discord followes, each thing melts
 In meere oppugnancie: the bounded waters
 Should lift their bosomes higher then the shores,
 And make a sop of all this solid globe:
 Strength should be Lord of imbecilitie,
 And the rude sonne should strike his father dead.
 Force should be right or rather right and wrong,
 ({Betweene whose endlesse jarre Justice recides})
 Should loose their names, and so should Justice #to?
 Then every thing include it selfe in power,
 Power into #will, #will into appetite,
 And appetite an universall Woolfe,
 (So doubly seconded with #will and power)
 Must make perforce an universall prey,
 And last eate up himselfe.
 Great {Agamemnon},
 This {chaos} when degree is suffocate,
 Followes the choaking,
 And this neglection of degree it is,
 That by a pace goes backward with a purpose
 It hath to clime. The generalls disdaind,
 By him one step below, he by the next,
 That next by him beneath, so every step,
 Exampl'd by the first pace that is sick
 Of his superior, growes to an envious feaver
 Of pale and bloudlesse emulation,
 And 'tis this feaver that keepes Troy on foote,
 Not her owne sinnews. To end a tale of length,
 Troy in our weaknesse stands not in her strength.
 <S {Nestor}.> Most wisely hath {Ulisses} here discoverd,
 The fever whereof all our power is sick.
 <S {Agamem}.> The nature of the sicknesse found, {Ulisses}
 What is the remedie?
 <S {Ulisses}.> The great {Achilles} whom opinion crownes,
 The sinnow and the fore-#hand of our hoste,
 Having his eare full of his ayrie fame,
<P C1>
 Growes dainty of his worth, and in his Tent
 Lies mocking our designes: with him {Patroclus}
 Upon a lazie bed the live-#long day,
 Breakes scurrell jests,
 And with ridiculous and sillie action,
 Which (slanderer) he Imitation calls,
 Thy toplesse deputation he puts on,
 And like a strutting Player, whose conceit
 Lyes in his ham-#string, and doth thinke it rich
 To #heere the woodden dialogue and sound,
 Twixt his stretcht footing and the scoaffollage,
 Such to be pitied and ore-#rested seeming,
 He acts thy greatnesse in. And when he speakes,
 Tis like a chime #a mending, with termes unsquare,
 Which from the tongue of roaring {Tiphon} dropt,
 Would seeme hiperboles, at this fustie stuffe,
 The large {Achilles} on his prest bed lolling,
 From his deepe chest laughes out a lowd applause,
 Cries excellent; 'tis {Agamemnon} right,
 Now play me {Nestor}, hem and stroake thy beard,
 As he being drest to some Oration,
 That's done, as neere as the extremest ends
 Of paralells, as like as {Vulcan} and his wife:
 Yet god {Achilles} still cries excellent,
 Tis {Nestor} right: now play him me {Patroclus},
 Arming to answer in a night alarme,
 And then forsooth the faint defects of age,
 Must be the scaene of myrth, to coffe and spit,
 And with a palsie fumbling on his gorget,
 Shake in and out the rivet, and at this sport
 Sir valour dyes, cryes O enough {Patroclus},
 Or give me ribbs of steele, I shall split all
 In pleasure of my spleene, and in this fashion,
 All our abilities, guifts, natures shapes,
 Severalls and generalls of grace exact,
 Atchivements, plots, orders, preventions,
 Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,
<P C1v>
 Successe or losse, what is, or is not, serves
 As stuffe for these two to make paradoxes.
 <S {Nestor}.> And in the imitation of these twaine,
 Who as {Ulisses} sayes opinion crownes,
 With an imperiall voyce: many are infect,
 {#Aiax} is growne selfe-#wild, and beares his head
 In such a reyne, in full as proud a place
 As broad {Achilles}: keepes his Tent like him,
 Makes factious feasts, railes on our state of warre,
 Bould as an Oracle, and sets {Thersites}
 A slave, whose gall coynes slanders like a mint,
 To match us in comparisons with durt,
 To weaken our discredit, our exposure
 How ranke so ever rounded in with danger.
 <S {Ulisses}.> They taxe our pollicie, and call it cowardice,
 Count wisdome as no member of the warre,
 Forstall prescience, and esteeme no act
 But that of hand, the still and mentall parts,
 That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
 When fitnesse calls them on, and know by measure
 Of their observant toyle the enemies waight,
 Why this hath not a fingers dignitie,
 They call this bed-#worke, mappry, Closet warre,
 So that the Ram that batters downe the wall,
 For the great swinge and rudenesse of his poise,
 They place before his hand that made the engine,
 Or those that with the finesse of their soules,
 By reason guide his execution.
 <S {Nest}.> Let this be granted, and {Achilles} horse
 Makes many {Thetis} sonnes,
 <S {Agam}.> What trumpet? looke {Menelaus}.
 <S {Mene}.> From Troy.
 <S {Agam}.> What would you fore our tent.
 <S {Aene}.> Is this great {Agamemnons} tent I pray you?
 <S {Agam}.> Even this.
 <S {Aene}.> May one that is a Herrald and a Prince,
 Do a faire message to his Kingly eyes?
 <S {Agam}.> With surety stronger then {Achilles} arme;
<P C2>
 Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice,
 Call {Agamemnon} head and generall.
 <S {Aene}.> Faire leave and large security, how may
 A stranger to those most imperiall lookes,
 Know them from eyes of other mortals?
 <S {Agam}.> How?
 <S {Aene}.> #I, I aske that I might waken reverence,
 And bid the cheeke be ready with a blush,
*Modest as morning, when shee coldly eyes the youthfull | ({Phoebus},
 Which is that god, in office guiding men,
 Which is the high and mighty {Agamemnon}.
 <S {Agam}.> This Troyan scornes us, or the men of Troy,
 Are ceremonious Courtiers.
 <S {Aene}.> Courtiers as free as debonaire, unarm'd
 As bending Angels, thats their fame in peace:
 But when they would seeme soldiers, they have galls,
*Good armes, strong joints, true swords, & great {Joves} accord
 Nothing so full of heart: but peace {Aeneas},
 Peace Troyan, lay thy finger on thy lips,
 The worthinesse of praise distaines his worth,
 If that the praisd him-#selfe bring the praise forth.
 But what the repining enemy commends,
 That breath fame blowes, that praise sole pure transcends.
 <S {Agam}.> Sir you of Troy, call you your selfe {Aeneas}?
 <S {Aene}.> #I Greeke, that is my name.
 <S {Agam}.> Whats your affaires I pray you?
 <S {Aene}.> Sir pardon, 'tis for {Agamemnons} eares.
*<S {Aga}.> He heeres naught privately that comes from Troy.
 <S {Aene}.> Nor I from Troy come not to whisper with him,
 I bring a trumpet to awake his eare,
 To set his seat on that attentive bent,
 And then to speake.
 <S {Agam}.> Speake frankly as the winde,
 It is not {Agamemnons} sleeping houre;
 That thou shalt know Troyan he is awake,
 Hee tels thee so himselfe.
 <S {Aene}.> Trumpet blowe alowd,
 Send thy brasse voyce through all these lazie tents,
<P C2v>
 And every Greeke of mettell let him know,
 What Troy meanes fairely, shall be spoke alowd.  <D {Sound} | {trumpet}.>
 We have great {Agamemnon} heere in Troy,
 A Prince calld {Hector}, {Priam} is his father,
 Who in his dull and long continved truce,
 Is restie growne: He bad me take a Trumpet,
 And to this purpose speake. Kings, Princes, Lords,
 If there be one among the fair'st of Greece,
 That holds his honour higher then his ease,
 And feeds his praise, more then he feares his perill,
 That knowes his valour, and knowes not his feare,
 That loves his Mistresse more then in confession,
 (With truant vowes to her owne lips he loves)
 And dare avowe her beautie, and her worth,
 In other armes then hers: to him this challenge;
 {#Hector} in view of Troyans and of Greekes,
 Shall make it good, or do his best to do it:
 He hath a Lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
 Then ever Greeke did couple in his armes,
 And will to morrow with his Trumpet call,
 Mid-#way betweene your tents and walls of Troy,
 To rouze a Grecian that is true in love:
 If any come, {Hector} shall honor him:
 If none, heele say in Troy when he retires,
 The Grecian dames are sun-#burnt, and not worth
 The splinter of a Launce. Even so much.
 <S {Agam}.> This shall be told our lovers Lord {Aeneas},
 If none of them have soule in such a kinde,
 We left them all at home, but we are souldiers,
 And may that souldier a meere recreant proove,
 That meanes not, hath not, or is not in love:
 If then one is, or hath a meanes to be,
 That one meetes {Hector}: if none else I am he.
 <S {Nest}.> Tell him of {Nestor}, one that was a man
 When {Hectors} grand-#sire suckt. He is old now,
 But if there be not in our Grecian hoste,
 A noble man that hath no sparke of fire
 To answer for his love, tell him from me,
<P C3>
 Ile hide my silver beard in a gould beaver,
 And in my vambrace put my withered braunes
 And meeting him tell him that my Lady,
 Was fairer then his grandam, and as chast,
 As may bee in the world, (his youth in flood)
 Ile prove this troth with my three drops of bloud,
 <S {Aene}.> Now heavens for-#fend such scarcity of men.
 <S {Ulis}.> Amen: faire Lord {Aeneas} let me touch your hand,
 To our pavilion shall I leade you sir;
 <S {Achilles}> shall have word of this intent,
 So shall each Lord of Greece from tent to tent,
 Your selfe shall feast with us before you goe,
 And finde the welcome of a noble foe.
 <S {Ulis}.> {Nestor}.  <S {Nest}.> What saies {Ulisses}?
 <S {Ulis}.> I have a yong conception in my braine,
 Be you my time to bring it to some shape.
 <S {Nest}.> What ist?
 <S {Ulis:}> Blunt wedges rive hard knots, the seeded pride,
 That hath to this maturity blowne up
 In ranke {Achilles}, must or now be cropt,
 Or shedding breede a noursery of like evill,
 To over-#bulk us all.  <S {Nest}.> Well and how?
 <S {Ulis:}> This challeng that the gallant {Hector} sends,
 How ever it is spread in generall name
 Relates in purpose onely to {Achilles}.
 <S {Nest}.> True the purpose is perspicuous as substance,
 Whose grosenesse little characters sum up:
 And in the publication make no straine,
 But that {Achilles} weare his braine, as barren,
 As banks of libia ({though} Apollo {knowes}
 {Tis dry enough}) will with great speed of judgement,
 #I with celerity finde {Hectors} purpose, pointing on him.
 <S {Ulis}.> And wake him to the answere thinke you?
 <S {Nest}.> Why tis most meete; who may you elce oppose,
 That can from {Hector} bring those honours off,
 If not {Achilles}: though't be a sportfull combat,
 Yet in the triall much opinion dwells:
 For here the Troyans tast our deerst repute,
<P C3v>
 With their fin'st pallat, and trust to me {Ulisses}
 Our imputation shalbe odly poizde
 In this vilde action, for the successe,
 Although perticuler shall give a scantling
 Of good or bad unto the generall,
 And in such {indexes} (although small pricks
 To their subsequent volumes) there is seene,
 The baby figure of the gyant masse,
 Of things to come at large: It is suppos'd
 He that meetes {Hector}, yssues from our choice,
 And choice (being mutuall act of all our soules)
 Makes merit her election, and doth boyle,
 (As twere from forth us all) a man distill'd
 Out of our vertues, who miscarrying,
 What heart receives from hence a conquering part,
 To steele a strong opinion to them selves.
 <S {Uliss}.> Give pardon to my speech? therefore tis meete,
 {Achilles} meete not {Hector}, let us like Marchants
 First shew foule wares, and thinke perchance theile sell;
 If not; the luster of the better shall exceed,
 By shewing the worse first: do not consent,
 That ever {Hector} and {Achilles} meet,
*For both our honour and our shame in this, are dog'd with
 two strange followers.
 <S {Nest}.> I see them not with my old eyes what are they?
 <S {Uless}.> What glory our {Achilles} shares from {Hector}
 Were he not proud, we all should share with him:
 But he already is too insolent.
 And it were better partch in Afrique Sunne,
 Then in the pride and sault scorne of his eyes
 Should he scape {Hector} faire. If he were foild,
 Why then we do our maine opinion crush
 In taint of our best man. No, make a lottry
 And by devise let blockish {Aiax} draw
 The sort to fight with {Hector}, among our selves,
 Give him allowance for the better man,
 For that will phisick the great Myrmidon,
 Who broyles in loud applause, and make him fall,
<P C4>
 His crest that prouder then blew Iris bends,
 If the dull brainlesse {Aiax} come safe off
 Weele dresse him up in voices, if he faile
 Yet go we under our opinion still,
 That we have better men, but hit or misse,
 Our proiects life this shape of sence assumes
 {#Aiax} imploy'd plucks downe {Achilles} plumes.
 <S {Nest}.> Now {Ulisses} I begin to relish thy advise,
 And I will give a taste thereof forthwith,
 To {Agamemnon}, go we to him straight
 Two curres shall tame each other, pride alone
 Must tarre the mastiffs on, as twere a bone.  <D {Exeunt}.>
 <D {Enter Aiax and Thersites}.>
 <S {Aiax}.> {Thersites}.
*<S {Ther}.> {Agamemnon}, how if he had biles, full, all over, gene-rally.
 <S {Aiax}.> {Thersites}.
*<S {Ther:}> And those byles did run (say so), did not the gene-rall
 run then, were not that a botchy core.  <S {Aiax}.> Dogge.
*<S {Ther}.> Then would come some matter from him, I see none
 now.
*<S {Aia:}> Thou bitchwolfs son canst thou not heare, feele then.
*<S {Ther}.> The plague of Greece upon thee thou mongrell beefe
 witted Lord.
*<S {Aiax}.> Speake then thou unsalted leaven, speake, I will beate
 thee into hansomnesse.
*<S {Ther}.> I shall sooner raile thee into wit and holinesse, but I
*thinke thy horse will sooner cunne an oration without
*booke, then thou learne praier without booke, thou canst
 strike canst thou? a red murrion ath thy Jades trickes.
 <S {Aiax}.> Tode-#stoole? learne me the proclamation.
*<S {Ther:}> Doost thou thinke I have no sence thou strikest mee
 thus?  <S {Aiax}.> The proclamation.
 <S {Ther:}> Thou art proclaim'd foole I thinke.
 <S {Aiax}.> Do not Porpentin, do not, my fingers itch:
*<S {Ther}.> I would thou didst itch from head to foote, and I had
*the scratching of #the, I would make thee the lothsomest scab
*in Greece, when thou art forth in the incursions thou strikest
 as slow as another.
<P C4v>
 <S {Aiax}.> I say the proclamation.
*<S {Ther}.> Thou gromblest and raylest every houre on {Achil-les},
*and thou art as full of envy at his greatnesse, as {Cerberus}
 is at {Proserpinas} beauty, #I that thou barkst at him.
 <S {Aiax}.> Mistres {Thersites}.
 <S {Ther}.> Thou shouldst strike him.  {Aiax} {Coblofe},
*Hee would punne thee into shivers with his fist, as a sayler
 breakes a bisket, you horson curre. Do? do?
 <S {Aiax:}> Thou stoole for a witch:
*<S {Ther}.> #I, Do? do? thou sodden witted Lord, thou hast
*no more braine then I have in mine elbowes, an {Asinico}
*may tutor thee, you scurvy valiant asse, thou art heere but to
*thrash Troyans, and thou art bought and sould among those
*of any wit, like a Barbarian slave. If thou use to beate mee I
*will beginne at thy heele, and tell what thou art by ynches,
 thou thing of no bowells thou.
 <S {Aiax}.> You dog:  <S {Ther}.> You scurvy Lord.
 <S {Aiax}.> You curre.
 <S {Ther}.> {Mars} his Idiot, do rudenesse, do Camel, do, do.
 <S {Achil}.> Why how now {Aiax} wherefore do yee thus,
 How now {Thersites} whats the matter man.
 <S {Ther}.> You see him there? do you?
 <S {Achil}.> #I whats the matter.  <S {Ther:}> Nay looke upon him.
 <S {Achil:}> So I do, whats the matter?
 <S {Ther:}> Nay but regard him well.
 <S {Achil:}> Well, why so I do.
*<S {Ther:}> But yet you looke not well upon him, for who some
 ever you take him to be he is {Aiax}.
 <S {Achil}.> I know that foole.
 <S {Ther}.> #I but that foole knowes not himselfe.
 <S {Aiax:}> Therefore I beate thee.
*<S {Ther:}> Lo, lo, lo, lo, what {modicums} of wit he utters, his eva-sions
*have eares thus long, I have bobd his braine more then
*he has beate my bones. It will buy nine sparrowes for a pen-ny,
*and his {pia mater} is not worth the ninth part of a spar-row:
*this Lord ({Achilles}) {Aiax}, who weares his wit in his bel-ly,
 and his guts in his head, I tell you what I say of him.
 <S {Ach}.> What.  <S {Ther}.> I say this {Aiax}.
<P D1>
 <S {Achil}.> Nay good {Aiax}.  <S {Ther}.> Has not so much wit.
 <S {Achil}.> Nay I must hold you.
*<S {Ther}.> As will stop the eye of {Hellens} needle, for whom
 he comes to fight.  <S {Achil}.> Peace foole?
*<S {Ther}.> I would have peace and quietnesse, but the foole
 will not, he there, that he: looke you there?
 <S {Aiax}.> Oh thou damned curre I shall===
 <S {Achil}.> Will you set your wit to a fooles.
 <S {Ther}.> No I warrant you, the fooles will shame it.
 <S {Patro}.> Good words {Thersites}.  <S {Achil}.> Whats the quarrell.
*<S {Aiax}.> I bad the vile oule goe learne mee the tenor of the
 proclamation, and he railes upon me.
 <S {Ther}.> I serve thee not?  <S {Aiax}.> Well, go to, go to.
 <S {Ther}.> I serve here voluntary.
*<S {Achil}.> Your last service was suffrance: twas not voluntary,
*no man is beaten voluntary, {Aiax} was here the voluntary,
 and you as under an Impresse.
*<S {Ther}.> E'ene so, a great deale of your witte #to, lies in your
*sinnewes, or els there bee liers, {Hector} shall have a great
*catch and knocke at either of your brains, #a were as good
 crack a fusty nut with no kernell.
 <S {Achil}.> What with me to {Thersites}.
*<S {Ther}.> Thers {Ulisses} and old {Nestor}, whose wit was mouldy
*ere their grandsiers had nailes, yoke you like draught oxen,
 and make you plough up the wars.
 <S {Achil}.> What? what?
 <S {Ther}.> Yes good sooth, to {Achilles}, to {Aiax}, to===
 <S {Aiax}.> I shall cut out your tongue.
*<S {Ther}.> Tis no matter, I shall speake as much as thou after-|(wards.
 <S {Patro}.> No more words {Thersites} peace.
*<S {Ther}.> I will hold my peace when {Achilles} brooch bids me, | (shall I?
 <S {Achil}.> There's for you {Patroclus}.
*<S {Ther}.> I will see you hang'd like {Clatpoles}, ere I come any
*more to your tents, I will keepe where there is wit stirring,
 and leave the faction of fooles.  <D {Exit}.>
 <S {Patro}.> A good riddance.
 <S {Achil}.> Marry this sir is proclaim'd through all our hoste,
 That {Hector} by the first houre of the Sunne:
<P D1v>
 Will with a trumpet twixt our Tents and Troy,
 To morrow morning call some Knight to armes,
 That hath a stomack, and such a one that dare,
 Maintaine I know not what, (tis trash) farewell===
 <S {Aiax}.> Farewell, who shall answer him.
 <S {Achil}.> I know not; tis put to lottry, otherwise,
 He knew his man.
 <S {Aiax}.> O meaning you? I will go learne more of it.
 <D {Enter Priam, Hector, Troylus, Paris and Helenus}.>
 <S {Priam}.> After so many houres, lives, speeches spent,
 Thus once againe saies {Nestor} from the Greekes:
 Deliver {Hellen}, (and all domage els,
 As honour, losse of time, travell, expence,
 Wounds, friends and what els deere that is consum'd:
 In hot digestion of this cormorant warre)
 Shalbe stroke off, {Hector} what say you to't?
 <S {Hect:}> Though no man lesser feares the Greekes then I
 As farre as toucheth my particular: yet dread {Priam}
 There is no Lady of more softer bowells,
 More spungy to suck in the sence of feare:
 More ready to cry out, who knowes what followes
 Then {Hector} is: the wound of peace is surely
 Surely secure, but modest doubt is calld
 The beacon of the wise, the tent that serches,
 Too'th bottome of the worst let {Hellen} go,
 Since the first sword was drawne about this question
 Every tith soule 'mongst many thousand dismes,
 Hath beene as deere as {Hellen}. I meane of ours:
 If we have loste so many tenthes of ours,
 To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us,
 (Had it our name) the valew of one ten,
 What merits in that reason which denies,
 The yeelding of her up?
 So great as our dread fathers in a scale
 Of common ounces? will you with {Compters} summe,
 The past proportion of his infinite
<P D2>
 And buckle in, a waste most fathomles,
 With spanes and inches so dyminutive:
 As feares and reasons: Fie for Godly shame?
 <S {Hele}.> No marvell though you bite so sharpe of reasons,
 You are so empty of them should not our father;
 Beare the great sway of his affaires with reason,
 Because your speech hath none that tell him so?
 <S {Troy}.> You are for dreames and slumbers brother Priest,
 You furre your gloves with reason, here are your reasons
 You know an enemy intends you harme:
 You know a sword imployde is perilous
 And reason flies the obiect of all harme.
 Who marvells then when {Helenus} beholds,
 A Gretian and his sword, if he do set
 The very wings of reason to his heeles,
 And flie like chidden {Mercury} from {Jove}
 Or like a starre disorbd? nay if we talke of reason,
 Lets shut our gates and sleepe: man-#hood and honour,
*Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
 With this cram'd reason, reason and respect,
 Make lyvers pale, and lustihood deiect.
*<S {Hect}.> Brother, shee is not worth, what shee doth cost the
 keeping.
 <S {Troy}.> Whats aught but as tis valved.
 <S {Hect}.> But valew dwells not in perticuler #will,
 It holds his estimate and dignity,
 As well wherein tis precious of it selfe
 As in the prizer, tis madde Idolatry
 To make the service greater then the God,
 And the #will dotes that is attributive;
 To what infectiously it selfe affects,
 Without some image of th' affected merit,
 <S {Troy}.> I take to day a wife, and my election:
 Is led on in the conduct of my #will,
 My #will enkindled by mine eyes and eares,
 Two traded pilots twixt the dangerous shore,
 Of #will and Judgement: how may I avoyde?
 (Although my #will distast what it elected)
<P D2v>
 The wife I choose, there can be no evasion,
 To blench from this and to stand firme by honor,
 We turne not backe the silkes upon the marchant
 When we have soild them, nor the remainder viands,
 We do not throw in unrespective sive,
 Because we now are full, it was thought meete
 {#Paris} should do some vengeance on the Greekes.
 Your breth with full consent bellied his sailes,
 The seas and winds (old wranglers) tooke a truce:
 And did him service, hee toucht the ports desir'd,
 And for an old aunt whom the Greekes held Captive,
*He brought a Grecian Queene, whose youth and freshnesse,
 Wrincles {Apolloes}, and makes pale the morning.
 Why keepe we her? the Grecians keepe our Aunt,
 Is she worth keeping? why shee is a pearle,
 Whose price hath lansh't above a thousand ships:
 And turn'd crown'd Kings to Marchants,
 If youle avouch twas wisdome {Paris} went,
 As you must needs, for you all cri'd go, go,
 If youle confesse he brought home worthy prize:
 As you must needs, for you all, clapt your hands,
 And cry'd inestimable: why do you now
 The yssue of your proper wisdomes rate,
 And do a deed that never fortune did,
 Begger the estimation, which you priz'd
 Ritcher then sea and land? O theft most base,
 That wee have stolne, what we do feare to keepe,
 But theeves unworthy of a thing so stolne:
 That in their country did them that disgrace,
 We feare to warrant in our native place.
 <D {Enter Cassandra raving}.>
 <S {Cass}.> Cry Troyans cry:
 <S {Priam}.> What noise? what shrike is this?
 <S {Troy}.> Tis our madde sister I do know her voice,
 <S {Cass}.> Cry Troyans.  <S {Hect}.> It is {Cassandra}!
 <S {Cass}.> Cry Troyans cry, lend me ten thousand eyes,
 And I will fill them with prophetick teares.
 <S {Hect}.> Peace sister peace.
<P D3>
*<S {Cass}.> Virgins, and boyes, mid-#age, and wrinckled elders,
 Soft infancie, that nothing canst but crie,
 Adde to my clamours: let us pay be-#times
 A moytie of that masse of mone to come:
 Crie {Troyans} crye, practise your eyes with teares,
 Troy must not bee, nor goodly Illion stand.
 Our fire-#brand brother {Paris} burnes us all,
 Crie Troyans crie, a {Helen} and a woe,
 Crie, crie, Troy burnes, or else let {Hellen} goe.  <D {Exit}.>
*<S {Hect}.> Now youthfull {Troylus}, do not these high straines
 Of divination in our Sister, worke
 Some touches of remorse? or is your bloud
 So madly hott, that no discourse of reason,
 Nor feare of bad successe in a bad cause,
 Can qualifie the same?
 <S {Troy}.> Why brother {Hector},
 We may not thinke the justnesse of each act
 Such, and no other then event doth forme it,
 Nor once deiect the courage of our mindes,
 Because {Cassandra}'s madde, her brain-#sick raptures
 Cannot distast the goodnesse of a quarrell,
 Which hath our severall honors all engag'd,
 To make it gratious. For my private part,
 I am no more toucht then all {Priams} sonnes:
 And {Jove} forbid there should be done amongst us,
 Such things as might offend the weakest spleene,
 To fight for and maintaine.
 <S {Par}.> Else might the world convince of levitie,
 As well my under-#takings as your counsells,
 But I attest the gods, your full consent,
 Gave wings to my propension, and cut off
 All feares attending on so dire a proiect,
 For what (alas) can these my single armes?
 What propugnation is in one mans valour
 To stand the push and enmitie of those
 This quarrell would excite? Yet I protest
 Were I alone to passe the difficulties,
 And had as ample power, as I have #will,
<P D3v>
 <S {Paris}> should nere retract, what he hath done,
 Nor faint in the pursuite,
 <S {Pria}.> {Paris} you speake
 Like one be-#sotted on your sweet delights,
 You have the hony still, but these the gall,
 So to be valiant, is no praise at all.
 <S {Par}.> Sir, I propose not meerly to my selfe,
 The pleasures such a beautie brings with it,
 But I would have the soile of her faire rape,
 Wip't #of in honorable keeping her,
 What treason were it to the ransackt queene,
 Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
 Now to deliver her possession up
 On tearmes of base compulsion? can it be,
 That so degenerate a straine as this,
 Should once set footing in your generous bosomes?
 There's not the meanest spirit on our party,
 Without a heart to dare, or sword to drawe,
 When {Helen} is defended: nor none so noble,
 Whose life were #ill bestowd, or death unfam'd,
 Where {Helen} is the subiect. Then I say,
 Well may we fight for her, whom we know well,
 The worlds large spaces cannot paralell.
 <S {Hect}.> {Paris} and {Troylus}, you have both said well,
 And on the cause and question now in hand,
 Have glozd, but superficially, not much
 Unlike young men, whom {Aristotle} thought
 Unfit to #heere {Morrall Philosophie};
 The reasons you alleadge, do more conduce
 To the hot passion of distempred blood,
 Then to make up a free determination
 Twixt right and wrong: for pleasure and revenge,
 Have eares more deafe then Adders to the voyce
 Of any true decision. Nature craves
 All dues be rendred to their owners. Now
 What neerer debt in all humanitie,
 Then wife is to the husband? if this lawe
 Of nature be corrupted through affection
<P D4>
 And that great mindes of partiall indulgence,
 To their benummed wills resist the same,
 There is a lawe in each well-#orderd nation,
 To curbe those raging appetites that are
 Most disobedient and refracturie;
 If {Helen} then be wife to {Sparta's} King,
 As it is knowne she is, these morrall lawes
 Of nature and of nations, speake alowd
 To have her back returnd: thus to persist
 In doing wrong, extenvates not wrong,
 But makes it much more heavie. {Hectors} opinion
 Is this in way of truth: yet nere the lesse,
 My spritely brethren, I propend to you
 In resolution to keepe {Helen} still,
 For 'tis a cause that hath no meane dependance,
 Upon our joynt and severall dignities.
 <S {Tro}.> Why there you toucht the life of our designe:
 Were it not glory that we more affected,
 Then the performance of our heaving spleenes,
 I would not wish a drop of Troyan bloud,
 Spent more in her defence. But worthy {Hector},
 She is a theame of honour and renowne,
 A spurre to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
 Whose present courage may beate downe our foes,
 And fame in time to come canonize us,
 For I presume brave {Hector} would not loose
 So rich advantage of a promisd glory,
 As smiles upon the fore-#head of this action,
 For the wide worlds revenew.
 <S {Hect}.> I am yours,
 You valiant offspring of great {Priamus},
 Will shrike amazement to their drowsie spirits,
 I was advertizd, their great generall slept,
 Whilst emulation in the armie crept:
 This I presume will wake him.  <D {Exeunt}.>
<P D4v>
 <D {Enter} Thersites {solus}.>
*How now {Thersites}? what lost in the Labyrinth of thy
*furie? shall the Elephant {Aiax} carry it thus? he beates me,
*and I raile at him: O worthy satisfaction, would it were
*otherwise: that I could beate him, whilst hee raild at mee:
*Sfoote, Ile learne to coniure and raise Divels, but Ile see
*some issue of my spitefull execrations. Then ther's {Achilles}, a
*rare inginer. If Troy bee not taken till these two under-mine
*it, the walls will stand till they fall of them-#selves.
*O thou great thunder-#darter of Olympus, forget that thou
*art {Jove} the king of gods: and {Mercury}, loose all the Ser-pentine
*craft of thy Caduceus, if yee take not that little
*little lesse then little witte from them that they have:
*which short-#armd Ignorance it selfe knowes is so aboun-dant
*scarce, it will not in circumuention deliver a flie from
*a spider, without drawing their massie Irons, and cutting
*the web. After this the vengeance on the whole campe,
*or rather the Neopolitan bone-#ache: for that me thinkes is
*the curse depending on those that warre for a placket. I
*have said my prayers, and divell Envie say {Amen}. What ho
 my Lord {Achilles}?
*<S {Patrocl}.> Whose there? {Thersites}? good {Thersites} come
 in and raile.
*<S {Thersi}.> If I could #a remembred a guilt counterfeit, thou
*couldst not have slipt out of my contemplation: but it is no
*matter, thy selfe upon thy selfe. The common curse of man-kinde,
*Folly and Ignorance, be thine in great revenew: Hea-uen
*blesse thee from a tutor, and discipline come not neere
*thee. Let thy bloud be thy direction till thy death: then if
*she that layes thee out sayes thou art not a faire course, Ile
*be sworne and sworne upon't, shee never shrowded any but
 lazars. {Amen}. Where's {Achilles}?
 <S {Patro}.> What art thou devout? wast thou in prayer?
 <S {Thers}.> #I the heavens heare me.
 <S {Patro}.> Amen.  <D {Enter} Achilles.>
 <S {Achil}.> Who's there?
 <S {Patro}.> {Thersites}, my Lord.
*<S {Achil}.> Where? where? O where? art thou come why my
<P E1>
*cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thy selfe into
 my table, so many meales, come what's {Agamemnon}?
*<S {Ther}.> Thy commander {Achilles}, then tell me {Patroclus},
 whats {Achilles}?
*<S {Patro}.> Thy Lord {Thersites}. Then tell mee I pray thee,
 what's {Thersites}?
*<S {Ther}.> Thy knower, {Patroclus}: then tell mee {Patroclus},
 what art thou?
*<S {Ther}.> Ile decline the whole question. {Agamemnon} com-mands
*{Achilles}, {Achilles} is my Lord, I am {Patroclus} know-er,
 and {Patroclus} is a foole.
 <S {Achil}.> Derive this? come?
*<S {Ther}.> {Agamemnon} is a foole to offer to command {Achil-les},
*{Achilles} is a foole to be commanded. {Thersites} is a foole
 to serve such a foole, and this {Patroclus} is a foole positive.
 <S {Patr}.> Why am I a foole?
*<S {Ther}.> Make that demand of the Prover, it suffices mee
 thou art: looke you, who comes heere?
 <D {Enter Agam: Uliss: Nestor, Diomed, Aiax} & {Calcas}.>
*<S {Achil}.> Come {Patroclus}, Ile speake with no body: come
 in with me {Thersites}.
*<S {Ther}.> Here is such patcherie, such jugling, and such kna-uery:
*all the argument is a whore, and a Cuckold, a good
 quarrell to draw emulous factions, & bleed to death upon.
 <S {Agam}.> Where is {Achilles}?
 <S {Patro}.> Within his tent, but #ill disposd my Lord.
 <S {Aga}.> Let it be knowne to him, that we are heere,
 He sate our messengers and we lay by,
 Our appertainings, visiting of him
 Let him be told so, least perchance he thinke,
 We dare not move the question of our place,
 Or know not what we are.
 <S {Patro}.> I shall say so to him.
 <S {Uliss}.> We saw him at the opening of his tent,
 Hee is not sick.
*<S {Aiax}.> Yes Lion sick, sick of proud heart, you may call it
<P E1v>
*melancholy if you will favour the man. But by my head 'tis
 pride: but why, why, let him shew us a cause?
 <S {Nest}.> What mooves {Aiax} thus to bay at him?
 <S {Uliss}.> {Achillis} hath invegled his foole from him,
 <S {Nest}.> Who {Thersites}?  <S {Ulis}.> He.
*<S {Nest}.> The[n] wil {Aiax} lack matter, if he have lost his argume[n]t.
*<S {Uli}.> No you see he is his argument, that has his argument
 {Achilles}.
*<S {Nes}.> All the better, their fractio[n] is more our wish then their
*faction, but it was a stro[n]g composure a foole could disunite.
*<S {Uli}.> The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily unty,
 Heere comes {Patroclus}.  <S {Nest}.> No {Achilles} with him.
 <S {Ulis}.> The Elephant hath joynts, but none for courtesie,
 His legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.
 <S {Patro}.> {Achilles} bids me say he is much sorry,
 If any thing more then your sport and pleasure
 Did moove your greatnesse, and this noble state,
 To call upon him. He hopes it is no other
 But for your health, and your disgestion sake,
 An after dinners breath.
 <S {Agam}.> #Heere you {Patroclus}:
 We are too well acquainted with these answers,
 But his evasion winged thus swift with scorne,
 Cannot out-#flie our apprehensions,
 Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
 Why we ascribe it to him. Yet all his vertues,
 Not vertuously on his owne part beheld,
 Doe in our eyes begin to lose their glosse,
 Yea like faire fruite in an unholsome dish,
 Are like to rott untasted. Go and tell him,
 We come to speake with him, and you shall not sinne,
 If you do say, we thinke him over-#proud
 And under-#honest: in selfe assumption greater
*Then in the note of judgement. And worthier then himselfe
 Heere tend the savage strangenesse he puts on
 Disguise, the holy strength of their commaund,
 And under-#write in an observing kinde,
 His humorous predominance: yea watch
<P E2>
 His course, and time, his ebbs and flowes, #and if
 The passage, and whole streame of his commencement,
 Rode on his tide. Goe tell him this, and adde,
 That if he over-#hold his price so much,
 Weele none of him. But let him like an engine,
 Not portable, lye under this report.
 Bring action hither, this cannot go to warre,
 A stirring dwarfe we doe allowance give,
 Before a sleeping gyant. Tell him so.
 <S {Patr}.> I shall, and bring his answer presently.
 <S {Agam}.> In second voyce weele not be satisfied,
 We come to speake with him: {Ulisses} entertaine.
 <S {Aiax}.> What is he more then another.
 <S {Agam}.> No more then what he thinkes he is.
*<S {Aiax}.> Is he so much: doe you not thinke he thinkes him-selfe
 a better man then I am?
 <S {Agam}.> No question.
 <S {Aiax}.> Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is.
*<S {Agam}.> No noble {Aiax}, you are as strong, as valiant, as
*wise, no lesse noble, much more gentle, and altogether
 more tractable.
*<S {Aia}.> Why should a man be proud? how doth pride grow?
 I know not what pride is.
*<S {Agam}.> Your minde is the cleerer, and your vertues the
*fairer, hee that is proud eates up him-#selfe: Pride is his
*owne glasse, his owne trumpet, his owne chronicle, and
*what ever praises it selfe but in the deed, devoures the
 deed in the praise.
 <D {Enter} Ulisses.>
*<S {Aiax}.> I do hate a proud man, as I do hate the ingendring
 of Toades.
 <S {Nest}.> And yet he loves himselfe, ist not strange?
 <S {Ulis}.> {Achilles} will not to the field to morrow.
 <S {Agam}.> Whats his excuse?
 <S {Ulis}.> He doth relye on none.
 But carries on the streame of his dispose,
 Without observance, or respect of any,
 In #will peculiar, and in selfe admission.
<P E2v>
 <S {Agam}.> Why will he not upon our faire request,
 Untent his person, and share th'#ayre with us.
 <S {Ulis}.> Things small as nothing, for requests sake onely,
 He makes important, possest he is with greatnesse,
 And speakes not to himselfe but with a pride,
 That quarrels at selfe breath. Imagind worth,
 Holds in his bloud such swolne and hott discourse,
 That twixt his mentall and his active parts,
 Kingdomd {Achilles} in commotion rages,
 And batters downe himselfe. What should I say,
 He is so plaguie proud, that the death tokens of it,
 Crie no recoverie.  <S {Agam}.> Let {Aiax} go to him,
 Deare Lord, go you, and greete him in his tent,
 'Tis said he holds you well, and will be lead,
 At your request a little from himselfe.
 <S {Ulis}.> O {Agamemnon} let it not be so,
 Weele consecrate the steps that {Aiax} makes,
 When they go from {Achilles}: shall the proud Lord
 That basts his arrogance with his owne seame,
 And never suffers matter of the world
 Enter his thoughts, save such as doth revolve,
 And ruminate him-#selfe: shall he be worshipt,
 Of that we hold an idoll more then hee,
 No: this thrice worthy and right valiant Lord,
 Shall not so staule his palme nobly acquird,
 Nor by my #will assubiugate his merit,
 As amply liked as {Achilles} is by going to {Achilles},
 That were to enlard his fat already pride,
 And adde more coles to {Cancer} when he burnes,
 With entertaining great {Hiperion},
 This Lord go to him. {Jupiter} forbid,
 And say in thunder {Achilles} go to him.
 <S {Nest}.> O this is well, he rubs the vaine of him.
 <S {Diom}.> And how his silence drinkes up his applause,
*<S {Aia}.> If I go to him: with my armed fist ile push him ore the | (face.
 <S {Agam}.> O no, you shall not goe,
 <S {Aia}.> #And he be proud with me, Ile phese his pride,
 Let me goe to him.
<P E3>
 <S {Uliss}.> Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrell.
 <S {Aiax}.> A paltry insolent fellow.
 <S {Nest}.> How he describes him selfe.
 <S {Aiax}.> Can he not be sociable.
 <S {Uliss}.> The Raven chides blacknesse.
 <S {Aiax}.> Ile tell his humorous bloud.
*<S {Agam}.> Hee wilbe the phisition, that should bee the paci-ent.
 <S {Aiax}.> #And all men were of my minde.
 <S {Uliss}.> Wit would bee out of fashion.
*<S {Aiax:}> #A should not beare it so, #a should eate swords first?
 shall pride carry it?
 <S {Nest}.> #And two'od yow'd carry halfe.
*<S {Aiax}.> #A would have ten shares. I will kneade him, Ile
 make him supple, he's not yet through warme?
*<S {Nest}.> Force him with praiers poure in, poure, his ambition
 is drie.
 <S {Uliss}.> My Lord you feed to much on this dislike.
 <S {Nest}.> Our noble generall do not do so?
 <S {Diom}.> You must prepare to fight without {Achilles}.
 <S {Uliss:}> Why tis this naming of him do's him harme,
 Here is a man but tis before his face, I wilbe silent.
 <S {Nest}.> Wherefore should you so?
 He is not emulous as {Achilles} is.
 <S {Uliss}.> Know the whole world hee is as valiant===
*<S {Aiax}.> A hoarson dog that shall palter with us thus, would
 he were a Troyan?
 <S {Nest}.> What a vice were it in {Aiax} now:
 <S {Uliss:}> If hee were proude.
 <S {Diom}.> Or covetous of praise.
 <S {Uliss}.> #I or surly borne.
 <S {Diom}.> Or strange or selfe affected.
*<S {Uliss:}> Thank the heavens Lord, thou art of sweet composure
 Praise him that gat thee, shee that gave thee suck:
 Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature,
 Thrice fam'd beyond all thy erudition:
 But hee that disciplind thine armes to fight,
 Let {Mars} divide eternity in twaine,
 And give him halfe, and for thy vigour:
<P E3v>
 Bull-#bearing {Milo} his addition yeeld,
 To sinowy {Aiax}, I will not praise thy wisdome,
 Which like a boord: a pale, a shore confines
 This spacious and dilated parts, here's {Nestor},
 Instructed by the antiquary times:
 He must, he is, he cannot but be wise,
 But pardon father {Nestor} were your daies
 As greene as {Aiax}, and your braine so temper'd,
 You should not have the emynence of him,
 But be as {Aiax}.  {Aiax}. Shall I call you father?
 <S {Nest}.> #I my good Sonne.
 <S {Diom}.> Be ruld by him Lord {Aiax}.
 <S {Uliss}.> There is no tarrying here the Hart {Achilles},
 Keepes thicket, please it our great generall,
 To call together all his state of warre,
 Fresh Kings are come to Troy. To morrow
 We must with all our maine of power stand fast,
 And here's a Lord come Knights from East to West
 And call their flower, {Aiax} shall cope the best.
 <S {Aga}.> Go we to counsell, let {Achilles} sleepe,
*Light boates saile swift, though greater hulkes draw deepe. | (<D {Exeunt}.>
 <D {Enter Pandarus}.>
*<S {Pan}.> Friend you, pray you a word, doe you not follow the
 yong Lord {Paris}.  <S {Man}.> #I sir when he goes before mee.
 <S {Pan}.> You depend upon him I meane.
 <S {Man}.> Sir I do depend upon the Lord.
*<S {Pan}.> You depend upon a notable gentleman I must needs
 praise him.
 <S {Pan}.> Friend know mee better, I am the Lord {Pandarus}.
 <S {Man}.> I hope I shall know your honour better?
 <S {Pan}.> I do desire it.
 <S {Man}.> You are in the state of grace?
*<S {Pan}.> Grace? not so friend, honour and Lordship are my ti-tles,
 what musicke is this?
 <S {Man}.> I do but partly know sir, it is musick in partes.
<P E4>
 <S {Pan}.> Know you the musicians?
 <S {Man}.> Wholy sir.  <S {Pan}.> Who play they to?
 <S {Man}.> To the hearers sir.
 <S {Pan}.> At whose pleasure friend?
 <S {Man}.> At mine sir, and theirs that love musicke.
 <S {Pan}.> Command I meane:
 <S {Man}.> Who shall I command sir?
*<S {Pan}.> Friend we understand not one another, I am #to court-ly
*and thou #to cunning, at whose request do these men play?
*<S {Man}.> Thats to't indeed sir? marry sir, at the request of {Pa-ris}
*my Lord, who is there in person, with him the mortall
 {Venus}, the heart bloud of beauty, loves invisible soule:
 <S {Pan}.> Who my cozen {Cressida}.
*<S {Man}.> No sir, {Hellen}, could not you finde out that by her at-tributes.
 
*<S {Pan}.> It should seeme fellow thou hast not seene the Lady
*{Cressid} I come to speake with {Paris}, from the Prince {Troy-lus}.
*I will make a complementall assault upon him for my
 businesse seeth's.
 <S {Man}.> Sodden businesse, theirs a stew'd phrase indeed.
 <D {Enter Paris and Hellen}.>
*<S {Pan}.> Faire be to you my Lord, and to al this faire company,
*faire desires in all faire measure fairlie guide them, especially
 to you faire Queene faire thoughts be your faire pillow.
 <S {Hel}.> Dere Lord you are full of faire words:
 <S {Pan}.> You speake your faire pleasure sweet Queene,
 Faire Prince here is good broken musicke.
*<S {Par}.> You have broke it cozen: and by my life you shall
*make it whole againe, you shall peece it out with a peece of
 your performance.  <S {Hel}.> He is full of harmony:
 <S {Pan:}> Truely Lady no:  <S {Hel:}> O sir:
 <S {Pan:}> Rude in sooth, in good sooth very rude.
 <S {Paris:}> Well said my Lord, well, you say so in fits:
*<S {Pan}.> I have businesse to my Lord deere Queene? my Lord
 will you vouchsafe me a word.
*<S {Hel}.> Nay this shall not hedge us out, weele #here you sing
 certainely:
*<S {Pan:}> Well sweete Queene you are pleasant with mee, but,
<P E4v>
*marry thus my Lord my deere Lord, and most esteemed
 friend your brother {Troylus}.
 <S {Hel}.> My Lord {Pandarus} hony sweet Lord,
 <S {Pan}.> Go #too sweet Queene, go to?
 Comends himselfe most affectionatly to you.
 <S {Hel}.> You shall not bob us out of our melody,
 If you do our melancholy upon your head.
*<S {Pan}.> Sweet Queene, sweet Queene, thats a sweet Queene
 #I faith===
*<S {Pan}.> Nay that shall not serve your turne, that shall it not
*in truth #la? Nay I care not for such words, no, no. And my
*Lord hee desires you that if the King call for him at super.
 You will make his excuse.
 <S {Hel}.> My Lord {Pandarus}.
*<S {Pan}.> What saies my sweete Queene, my very very sweet
 Queene?
*<S {Pan}.> What saies my sweet Queene? my cozen will fall out
 with you.
 <S {Hel}.> You must not know where he sups.
 <S {Par}.> Ile lay my life with my disposer {Cresseida}.
*<S {Pan}.> No, no? no such matter you are wide, come your
 disposer is sicke.
 <S {Par}.> Well ile make#s excuse?
*<S {Pan}.> #I good my Lord, why should you say {Cresseida}, no,
 your disposers sick.  <S {Par}.> I spie?
*<S {Pan}.> You spy? what doe you spie? come, give mee an in-strument,
 now sweete Queene:
 <S {Hel}.> Why this is kindely done?
*<S {Pan}.> My Neece is horribly in love with a thing you have
 sweete Queene.
*<S {Hel}.> Shee shall have it my Lord, if it bee not my Lord
 {#Paris}.
*<S {Pand}.> Hee? no? sheele none of him, they two are
 twaine.
 <S {Hel}.> Falling in after falling out may make them three.
<P F1>
*<S {Pand}.> Come, come, Ile heare no more of this, Ile sing you a
 song now.
*<S {Hell:}> #I, #I, prethee, now by my troth sweet lad thou haste a
 fine fore-#head.
 <S {Pand:}> #I you may, you may.
*<S {Hell:}> Let thy song be love: this love will undoe us all. Oh
 {Cupid, Cupid, Cupid}.
 <S {Pand:}> Love? #I that it shall yfaith.
 <S {Par:}> #I good now love, love, nothing but love.
 <S Pand:> {Love, love, nothing but love, still love still more}:
 {For o loves bow. Shoots Bucke and #Doe}.
 {#The shafts confound not that it wounds}
 {But ticles still the sore}:
 {These lovers cry, oh ho they dye},
 {Yet that which seemes the wound to kill},
 {Doth turne oh ho, to ha ha #he},
 {So dying love lives still},
 {O ho #a while, but ha ha ha},
 {O ho grones out for ha ha ha === hey ho},
 <S {Hell:}> In love #I faith to the very tip of the nose.
*<S {Par}.> He eates nothing but doves love, and that breeds hot
*blood, and hot bloud begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts
 beget hot deedes, and hot deeds is love.
*<S {Pand}.> Is this the generation of love: hot bloud hot
*thoughts and hot deedes, why they are vipers, is love a ge-neration
 of vipers:
 Sweete Lord whose #a field to day?
*<S Par:> {Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Anthenor}, and all the gal-lantry
*of {Troy}. I would faine have arm'd to day, but my {Nell}
 would not have it so.
 How chance my brother {Troylus} went not?
*<S {Hell:}> He hangs the lippe at something, you know al Lord
 {Pandarus}.
*<S {Pand:}> Not I hony sweete Queene, I long to heare how
 they sped to day:
 Youle remember your brothers excuse?
 <S {Par:}> To a hayre.
 <S {Pand:}> Farewell sweete Queene.
<P F1v>
 <S {Hell}.> Commend me to your neece.
 <S {Pand}.> I will sweet Queene.  <D {Sound a retreat}?>
 <S {Par:}> #Their come from the field: let us to Priames Hall
 To greete the warriers. Sweet {Hellen} I must woe you,
 To helpe un-#arme our {Hector}: his stubborne bucles
 With this your white enchaunting fingers toucht;
 Shall more obey then to the edge of steele,
 Or force of Greekish sinewes: you shall do more
 Then all the Iland Kinges, disarme great {Hector}.
 <S {Hell:}> Twil make us proud to be his servant {Paris}?
 Yea what he shall receive of us in duty,
 Gives us more palme in beauty then we have.
 Yea overshines our selfe.
 <S {Par:}> Sweet above thought I love her?  <D {Exeunt}.>
 <D {Enter Pandarus Troylus, man}.>
*<S {Pand:}> How now wher's thy maister, at my Cousin {Cressidas}?
 <S {Man:}> No sir stayes for you to conduct him thether.
 <S {Pand:}> O heere he comes? how now, how now?
 <S {Troy:}> Sirra walke off.
 <S {Pand:}> Have you seene my Cousine?
 <S {Troy}:> No {Pandarus}, I stalke about her dore
 Like to a strange soule upon the Stigian bankes
 Staying for waftage, O be thou my Charon.
 And give me swift transportance to these fieldes,
 Where I may wallow in the lilly beds
 Propos'd for the deserver. O gentle {Pandar},
 From {Cupids} shoulder plucke his painted wings,
 And flye with me to {Cressid}.
 <S {Pand:}> Walke heere ith'#Orchard, Ile bring her straight.
 <S {Troy:}> I am giddy; expectation whirles me round,
 Th'#ymaginary relish is so sweete,
 That it inchaunts my sence: what will it be
 When that the watry pallats taste indeed
 Loves thrice repured Nectar? Death I feare me
 Sounding distruction, or some joy #to fyne,
 #To subtill, potent, tun'd #to sharp in sweetnesse
 For the capacity of my ruder powers;
 I feare it much, and I doe feare besides
<P F2>
 That I shall loose distinction in my joyes
 As doth a battaile, when they charge on heapes
 The enemy flying.
*<S {Pand}.> Shees making her ready, sheele come straight, you
*must be witty now, she does so blush, and fetches her wind so
*short as if shee were fraid with a spirite: Ile fetch her; it is the
*prettiest villaine, she fetches her breath as short as a new tane
 sparrow.
 <S {Troy:}> Even such a passion doth imbrace my bosome,
 My heart beats thicker then a feavorous pulse,
 And all my powers do their bestowing loose
 Like vassalage at unwares encountring
 the eye of maiesty.  <D {Enter Pandar and Cressid}.>
 <S {Pand}.> Come, come, what need you blush?
*Shames a babie; heere shee is now, sweare the othes now to
*her that you have sworne to me: what are you gone againe,
*you must be watcht ere you be made tame, must you? come
*your waies come your waies, #and you draw backward weele
*put you ith filles: why doe you not speake to her. Come
*draw this curtaine, and lets see your picture; alasse the day?
*how loath you are to offend day light; #and twere darke youd
*close sooner: so so, rub on and kisse the mistresse; how now
*a kisse in fee-#farme: build there Carpenter, the ayre is sweet.
*Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The faul-con,
*as the tercell: for all the ducks ith river: go #too, go #too.
 <S {Troy:}> You have bereft me of all wordes Lady.
*<S {Pand:}> Words pay no debts; give her deeds: but sheele be-reave
*you ath' deeds too if she call your activity in question:
*what billing again: heeres in witnesse whereof the parties in-terchangeably.
 Come in come in Ile go get a fire?
 <S {Cres}.> Will you walke in my Lord?
 <S {Troy}.> O {Cressed} how often have I wisht me thus.
 <S {Cres}.> Wisht my Lord? the gods graunt? O my Lord?
*<S {Troy}.> What should they graunt? what makes this pretty ab-ruption:
*what #to curious dreg espies my sweete lady in the
 fountaine of our love?
*<S {Troy}.> Feares make divels of Cherubins, they never see truly.
<P F2v>
*<S {Cres}.> Blind feare that seeing reason leads, finds safer foo-ting,
*then blind reason, stumbling without feare: to feare
 the worst oft cures the worse.
 <S {Troy}.> O let my Lady apprehend no feare,
 In all {Cupids} pageant there is presented no monster.
 <S {Cres}.> Nor nothing monstrous neither.
*<S {Troy}.> Nothing but our undertakings, when wee vow to
*weepe seas, live in fire, eate rockes, tame Tygers, thin-king
*it harder for our mistresse to devise imposition ynough
 then for us to undergoe any difficulty imposed. ===
*#This the monstruosity in love Lady, that the #will is infinite
*and the execution confind, that the desire is boundlesse, and
 the act a slave to lymite.
*<S {Cres}.> They say all lovers sweare more performance then
*they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never
*performe: vowing more then the perfection of ten: and dis-charging
*lesse then the tenth part of one. They that have
*the voyce of Lyons, and the act of Hares are they not mon-sters?
 
*<S {Troy}.> Are there such: such are not we; Praise us as wee
*are tasted, allow us as we prove: our head shall goe bare till
*merit lover part no affection in reversion shall have a praise
*in present: we will not name desert before his birth, and be-ing
*borne, his addition shall bee humble: few wordes
*to faire faith. {Troylus} shall be such to {Cressid}, as what en-uy
*can say worst shall bee a mocke for his truth, and what
 truth can speake truest not truer then {Troylus}.
 <S {Cres}.> Will you walke in my Lord?
*<S {Pand}.> What blushing still, have you not done talking yet?
*<S {Cres}.> Well Uncle what folly I commit I dedicate to
 you.
*<S {Pand}.> I thanke you for that, if my Lord gette a boy of you,
*youle give him me: be true to my Lord, if he flinch chide me
 for it.
*<S {Troy:}> You know now your hostages, your Uncles word and
 my firme faith.
*<S {Pand}.> Nay Ile give my word for her too: our kindred
*though they be long ere they bee woed, they are constant
<P F3>
*being wonne, they are burres I can tell you, theyle sticke
 where they are throwne.
*<S {Cres}.> Bouldnesse comes to me now and brings me heart:
*Prince {Troylus} I have loved you night and day, for many
 weary moneths.
 <S {Troy:}> Why was my {Cressid} then so hard to wyn?
 <S {Cres:}> Hard to seeme wonne: but I was wonne my Lord
 With the first glance; that ever pardon me
 If I confesse much you will play the tyrant,
 I love you now, but till now not so much
 But I might maister it; in faith I lye,
 My thoughts were like unbrideled children grone
 Too headstrong for their mother: see wee fooles,
 Why have I blab'd: who shall be true to us
 When we are so unsecret to our selves.
 But though I love'd you well, I woed you not,
 And yet good faith I wisht my selfe a man;
 Or that we women had mens priviledge
 Of speaking first. Sweete bid me hold my tongue,
 For in this rapture I shall surely speake
 The thing I shall repent: see see your sylence
 Comming in dumbnesse, from my weaknesse drawes
 My very soule of councell. Stop my mouth.
 <S {Troy:}> And shall, albeit sweet musique issues thence.
 <S {Pand}.> Pretty yfaith.
 <S {Cres}.> My Lord I doe beseech you pardon me,
 Twas not my purpose thus to begge a kisse:
 I am asham'd; O Heavens what have I done!
 For this time will I take my leave my Lord.
 <S {Troy:}> Your leave sweete {Cressid}:
 <S {Pan:}> Leave: #and you take leave till to morrow morning.
 <S {Cres:}> Pray you content you.  <S {Troy:}> What offends you Lady?
 <S {Cres:}> Sir mine own company.
 <S {Troy:}> You cannot shun your selfe.
 <S {Cres:}> Let me goe and try:
<P F3v>
 Where is my wit? I know not what I speake,
*<S {Tro}.> Well know they what they speake, that speake so | (wisely,
 <S {Cres}.> Perchance my Lord I show more craft then love,
 And fell so roundly to a large confession.
 To angle for your thoughts, but you are wise,
 Or else you love not: for to be wise and love,
 Exceeds mans #might that dwells with gods above,
 <S {Tro}.> O that I thought it could be in a woman.
 As if it can I will presume in you,
 To feed for age her lampe and flames of love.
 To keepe her constancy in plight and youth.
 Out-#living beauties outward, with a mind,
 That doth renew swifter then blood decays,
 Or that persuasion could but thus convince me,
 That my integrity and truth to you,
 Might be affronted with the match and waight,
 Of such a winnowed purity in love,
 How were I then up-#lifted! but alasse,
 I am as true as truths simplicity,
 And simpler then the infancy of truth.
 <S {Cres}.> In that ile war with you,  <S {Tro}.> O vertuous fight,
 When right with right warres who shalbe most right,
 True swains in love shall in the world to come
 Approve their trueth by {Troylus}, when their rimes,
 Full of protest, of oath and big compare,
 Wants simele's truth tyrd with iteration.
 As true as steele, as plantage to the moone.
 As sunne to day: as turtle to her mate,
 As Iron to Adamant: as Earth to th' Center,
 After all comparisons of truth.
 (As truths authentique author to be cited)
 As true as {Troylus}, shall croune up the verse,
 And sanctifie the nombers,
 <S {Cres}.> Prophet may you bee,
 If I bee falce or swarve a hayre from truth,
 When time is ould or hath forgot it selfe,
 When water drops have worne the stones of {Troy},
 And blind oblivion swallowd Citties up.
<P F4>
 And mighty states character-les are grated,
 To dusty nothing, yet let memory,
 From falce to falce among falce mayds in love,
 Upbraid my falcehood, when th'have said as falce,
 As ayre, as water, wind or sandy earth,
 As Fox to Lambe; or Wolfe to Heifers Calfe,
 Pard to the Hind, or stepdame to her Sonne,
 Yea let them say to sticke the heart of falsehood,
 As false as {Cressid}.
*<S {Pand}.> Go to a bargaine made, seale it, seale it ile bee the
*witnes here I hold your hand, here my Cozens, if ever you
*prove false one, to another since I have taken such paine to
*bring you together let all pittifull goers betweene be cald
*to the worlds end after my name, call them all Panders, let
*all constant men be Troylusses all false woemen {Cressids}, and
 all brokers betweene panders; say Amen.
 <S {Tro}.> Amen.  <S {Cre}.> Amen.
 <S {Pan}.> Amen.
*Wherevpon I will shew you a Chamber, which bed be-cause
*it shall not speake of your prety encounters presse it to
 death; away.  <D {Exeunt}.>
 And Cupid grant all tong-#tide maydens here,
 Bed, chamber, Pander to provide this geere.  <D {Exit}.>
 <D {Enter Ulisses, Diomed, Nestor, Agamem, Chalcas}.>
 <S {Cal}.> Now Princes for the service I have done,
 Th'#advantage of the time prompts me aloud,
 To call for recompence: appere it to mind,
 That through the sight I beare in things to love,
 I have abandond Troy, left my possession,
 Incurd a traytors name, exposd my selfe,
 From certaine and possest conveniences,
 To doubtfull fortunes, sequestring from me all,
 That time acquaintance, custome and condition,
 Made tame, and most familiar to my nature:
 And here to doe you service am become,
 As new into the world, strange, unacquainted
 I do beseech you as in way of tast,
 To give me now a little benefit.
<P F4v>
 Out of those many registred in promise,
 Which you say live to come in my behalfe:
 <S {Aga}.> What wouldst thou of us Troian? make demand?
 <S {Calc}.> You have a Troian prisoner cald {Antenor},
 Yesterday tooke, Troy holds him very deere.
 Oft have you (often have you thankes therefore)
 Desird my {Cressed} in right great exchange.
 Whom Troy hath still deni'd, but this {Anthenor},
 I know is such a wrest in their affaires:
 That their negotiations all must slacke,
 Wanting his mannage and they will almost,
 Give us a Prince of blood a Sonne of {Pryam},
 In change of him. Let him be sent great Princes,
 And he shall buy my daughter: and her presence,
 Shall quite strike #of all service I have done,
 In most accepted paine.
 <S {Aga}.> Let {Diomedes} beare him,
 And bring us {Cressid} hither, {Calcas} shall have
 What he requests of us: good {Diomed}
 Furnish you farely for this enterchange,
 Withall bring word If {Hector} will to morrow,
 Bee answered in  his challenge. {Aiax} is ready.
 <S {Dio}.> This shall I undertake, and tis a burthen
 Which I am proud to beare.  <D {Exit},
 Achilles {and} Patro {stand in their tent}.>
 <S {Uli}.> {Achilles} stands ith entrance of his tent,
 Please it our generall passe strangely by him:
 As if he were forgot, and princes all,
 Lay negligent and loose regard upon him,
 I will come last, tis like heele question mee.
 Why such unplausive eyes are bent? why turnd on him,
 If so I have derision medecinable,
 To use betweene your strangnes and his pride,
 Which his owne #will shall have desire to drinke,
 It may doe good, pride hath no other glasse,
 To show it selfe but pride: for supple knees,
 Feed arrogance and are the proud mans fees.
 <S {Aga}.> Weele execute your purpose and put on,
<P G1>
 A forme of strangnesse as we pas along,
 So do each Lord, and either greet him not
 Or els disdaynfully, which shall shake him more:
 Then if not lookt on. I will lead the way.
 <S {Achil}.> What comes the generall to speake with mee?
 You know my minde Ile fight no more 'gainst Troy.
 <S {Aga}.> What saies {Achilles} would he ought with us?
 <S {Nest}.> Would you my Lord ought with the generall.
 <S {Achil}.> No.
 <S {Nest}.> Nothing my Lord:
 <S {Aga}.> The better.
 <S {Achil}.> Good day, good day:
 <S {Men}.> How do you? how do you?
 <S {Achil}.> What do's the Cuckould scorne me?
 <S {Aiax}.> How now {Patroclus}?
 <S {Achil}.> Good morrow {Aiax}?
 <S {Aiax}.> Ha:
 <S {Achil}.> Good morrow.
 <S {Aiax}.> #I and good next day too.  <D {Exeunt}.>
*<S {Ach}.> What meane these fellowes know they not {Achilles}?
 <S {Patro}.> They passe by strangely: they were us'd to bend,
 To send their smiles before them to {Achilles}:
 To come as humbly as they us'd to creep, to holy aultars:
 <S {Achil}.> What am I poore of late?
 Tis certaine, greatnesse once falne out with fortune,
 Must fall out with men #to, what the declin'd is,
 He shall as soone reade in the eyes of others
 As feele in his owne fall: for men like butter-#flies,
 Shew not their mealy wings but to the Summer,
 And not a man for being simply man,
 Hath any honour, but honour for those honours
 That are without him, as place, ritches, and favour,
 Prizes of accident as oft as merit
 Which when they fall as being slipery standers,
 The love that lean'd on them as slipery too,
*Doth one pluck downe another, and to gether, die in the fall,
 But tis not so with mee,
 Fortune and I are friends, I do enioy:
<P G1v>
 At ample point all that I did possesse,
 Save these mens lookes, who do me thinkes finde out:
 Some thing not worth in me such ritch beholding,
 As they have often given. Here is {Ulisses}
 Ile interrupt his reading, how now {Ulisses}?
 <S {Uliss}.> Now great {Thetis} Sonne.
 <S {Achil}.> What are you reading?
 <S {Uliss}.> A strange fellow here,
 Writes me that man, how derely ever parted:
 How much in having or without or in
 Cannot, make bost to have that which he hath,
 Nor feeles not what he owes but by reflection:
 As when his vertues ayming upon others,
 Heate them and they retort that heate againe
 To the first givers.
 <S {Achil}.> This is not strange {Ulisses},
 The beauty that is borne here in the face:
 The bearer knowes not, but commends it selfe.
 !To others eyes, nor doth the eye it selfe
 !That most pure spirit of sence, behold it selfe
 Not going from it selfe: but eye to eye opposed,
 Sallutes each other, with each others forme.
 For speculation turnes not to it selfe,
 Till it hath travel'd and is married there?
 Where it may see it selfe: this is not strange at all.
 <S {Uliss}.> I do not straine at the position,
 It is familiar, but at the authors drift,
 Who in his circumstance expressly prooves,
 That no man is the Lord of any thing:
 Though in and of him there be much consisting,
 Till he communicate his parts to others,
 Nor doth hee of himselfe know them for aught:
 Till he behold them formed in the applause.
 Where th'#are extended: who like an arch reverb'rate
 The voice againe or like a gate of steele:
 Fronting the Sunne, receives and renders back
 His figure and his heate. I was much rap't in this,
 And apprehended here immediately,
<P G2>
 Th' unknowne {Aiax}, heavens what a man is there?
 A very horse, that has he knowes not what
 Nature what things there are.
 Most obiect in regard, and deere in use,
 What things againe most deere in the esteeme:
 And poore in worth, now shall we see to morrow,
 An act that very chance doth throw upon him
 {#Aiax} renown'd? O heavens what some men doe,
 While some men leave to doe.
 How some men creepe in skittish fortunes hall,
 Whiles others play the Ideots in her eyes,
 How one man eates into anothers pride,
 While pride is fasting in his wantonesse.
 To see these Grecian Lords, why even already:
 They clap the lubber {Aiax} on the shoulder
 As if his foote were one brave {Hectors} brest,
 And great {Troy} shrinking.
 <S {Achill}.> I doe beleeve it,
 For they past by me as misers do by beggars,
 Neither gave to me good word nor looke:
 What are my deeds forgot?
 <S {Uliss}.> Time hath (my Lord) a wallet at his back,
 Wherein he puts almes for oblivion:
 A great siz'd monster of ingratitudes,
 Those scraps are good deeds past,
 Which are devour'd as fast as they are made,
 Forgot as soone as done, perseverance deere my Lord:
 Keepes honour bright, to have done, is to hang,
 Quite out of fashion like a rusty male,
 In monumentall mockry? take the instant way,
 For honour travells in a straight so narrow:
 Where #on but goes #a brest, keepe then the path
 For emulation hath a thousand Sonnes,
 That one by one pursue, if you give way,
 Or turne #a side from the direct forth right:
 Like to an entred tide they all rush by,
 And leave you him, most, then what they do in present:
 Though lesse then yours in passe, must ore top yours.
<P G2v>
 For time is like a fashionable hoast,
 That slightly shakes his parting guest by th'#hand,
 And with his armes out-#stretcht as he would flie,
 Graspes in the commer: the welcome ever smiles,
 And farewell goes out sighing. Let not vertue seeke,
 Remuneration for the thing it was. For beauty, wit,
 High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service,
 Love, friendship, charity, are subiects all,
 To envious and calumniating time.
 One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,
 That all with one consent praise new-#borne gaudes,
 Though they are made and moulded of things past,
 And goe to dust, that is a little guilt,
 More laud then guilt ore-#dusted.
 The present eye praises the present obiect.
 Then marvell not thou great and complet man,
 That all the Greekes begin to worship {Aiax};
 Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
 That what stirs not. The crie went once on thee,
 And still it might, and yet it may againe,
 If thou wouldst not entombe thy selfe alive,
 And case thy reputation in thy tent,
 Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late,
 Made emulous missions mongst the gods them-#selves,
 And drave great {Mars} to faction.
 <S {Achil}.> Of this my privacie,
 I have strong reasons.
 <S {Ulis}.> But gainst your privacie,
 The reasons are more potent and heroycall:
 Tis knowne {Achilles} that you are in love
 With one of {Priams} daughters.
 <S {Achil}.> Ha? knowne.
 <S {Ulis}.> Is that a wonder:
 The providence thats in a watchfull state,
 Knowes almost every thing,
 Findes bottom in the uncomprehensive depth,
 Keepes place with thought and almost like the gods,
 Do thoughts unuaile in their dumbe cradles.
<P G3>
 There is a mysterie (with whom relation
 Durst never meddle) in the soule of state,
 Which hath an operation more divine,
 Then breath or pen can give expressure to:
 All the commerse that you have had with Troy,
 As perfectly is ours, as yours my Lord,
 And better would it fitt {Achilles} much,
 To throw downe {Hector} then {Polixena}.
 But it must grieve young {Pirhus} now at home,
 When fame shall in our Ilands sound her trumpe,
 And all the Greekish girles shall tripping sing,
 Great {Hectors} sister did {Achilles} winne,
 But our great {Aiax} bravely beate downe him:
 Farewell my Lord: I as your lover speake,
 The foole slides ore the Ice that you should breake.
 <S {Patr}.> To this effect {Achilles} have I moov'd you,
 A woman impudent and mannish growne,
 Is not more loth'd then an effeminate man
 In time of action: I stand condemnd for this
 They thinke my little stomack to the warre,
 And your great love to me, restraines you thus,
 Sweete rouse your selfe, and the weake wanton {Cupid},
 Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fould,
 And like dew drop from the Lions mane,
 Be shooke to ayre.
 <S {Ach}.> Shall {Aiax} fight with {Hector}.
 <S {Patro}.> #I and perhaps receive much honor by him.
 <S {Achil}.> I see my reputation is at stake,
 My fame is shrowdly gor'd.
 <S {Patro}.> O then beware.
 Those wounds heale #ill, that men do give themselves,
 Omission to doe what is necessary.
 Seales a commission to a blanke of danger,
 And danger like an ague subtly taints
 Even then when they sit idely in the sunne.
 <S {Achil}.> Go call {Thersites} hether sweet {Patroclus},
 Ile send the foole to {Aiax}, and desire him
 T'#invite the Troyan lords after the combate,
<P G3v>
 To see us heere unarmd. I have a womans longing,
 An appetite that I am sick with-#all,
 To see great {Hector} in his weeds of peace,
 To talke with him, and to behold his visage,
 Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd.
 <D {Enter Thersites}.>
 <S {Thersi}.> A wonder.  <S {Achil}.> What?
*<S {Thersi}.> {Aiax} goes up and downe the field asking for
 himselfe.  <S {Achil}.> How so?
*<S {Thersi}.> He must fight singly to morrow with {Hector}, and
*is so prophetically proud of an heroycall cudgeling, that
 he raves in saying nothing.
 <S {Achil}.> How can that be?
*<S {Thersi}.> Why #a stalkes up and downe like a peacock, a
*stride and a stand: ruminates like an hostisse, that hath no
*Arithmatique but her braine to set downe her reckoning:
*bites his lip with a politique regarde, as who should say
*there were witte in this head #and twoo'd out: and so there
*is. But it lyes as coldly in him, as fire in a flint, which will
*not show without knocking, the mans undone for ever, for
*if {Hector} breake not his neck ith' combate, hee'le breakt
*himselfe in vaine glory. Hee knowes not mee. I sayd
*good morrow {Aiax}: And hee replyes thankes {Agamem-non}.
*What thinke you of this man that takes mee for the
*Generall? Hees growne a very land-#fish languagelesse, a
*monster, a plague of opinion, a man may weare it on both
 sides like a lether Jerkin.
 <S {Achil}.> Thou must be my Ambassador {Thersites}.
*<S {Thersi}.> Who I: why heele answer no body: hee profes-ses
*not answering, speaking is for beggers: he weares his
*tongue in's armes. I will put on his presence, let {Patroclus}
*make  demands to me. You shall see the pageant of {Aiax}.
*<S {Achil}.> To him {Patroclus}, tell him I humbly desire the va-liant
*{#Aiax}, to invite the valorous {Hector} to come unarm'd
*to my tent, and to procure safe-#conduct for his person, of
*the magnanimous and most illustrious, sixe or seaven times
*honour'd Captaine Generall of the armie. {Agamemnon},
 do this.
<P G4>
 <S {Patro}.> {Jove} blesse great {Aiax}.  <S {Thers}.> Hum.
 <S {Patr}.> I come from the worthy {Achilles}.
 <S {Thers}.> Ha?
 <S {Patr}.> And to procure safe conduct from {Agamemnon}.
 <S {Thers}.> {Agamemnon}?
 <S {Patr}.> #I my Lord.  <S {Thers}.> Ha?
 <S {Patr}.> What say you too't.
 <S {Thers}.> God buy you with all my heart.
 <S {Patr}.> Your answer sir.
*<S {Thers}.> If to morrow be a faire day, by #a leven of the clock
*it will goe one way or other, howsoever he shall pay for me
 ere hee ha's me.  <S {Patr}.> Your answer sir.
 <S {Thers}.> Fare yee well with all my heart.
 <S {Achil}.> Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
*<S {Thers}.> No: but out of tune thus. What musick will be in
*him, when {Hector} ha's knockt out his braines, I know not.
*But I am sure none, unlesse the fidler {Apollo} get his sinnews
 to make Catlings on.
 <S {Achil}.> Come, thou shalt beare a letter to him straight.
*<S {Thers}.> Let mee beare another to his horse, for thats the
 more capable creature.
 <S {Achil}.> My minde is troubled like a fountaine stird,
 And I my selfe see not the bottome of it.
*<S {Thers}.> Would the fountaine of your minde were cleere
*againe, that I might water an Asse at it, I had rather be a tick
 in a sheepe, then such a valiant ignorance.
 <D {Enter at one doore Aeneas, at another Paris, Deiphobus},
 {Antemor, Diomed the Grecian with torches}.>
 <S {Paris}.> See ho? who is that there?
 <S {Deiph}.> It is the Lord {Aeneas}.
 <S {Aene}.> Is the Prince there in person?
 Had I so good occasion to lye long
 As your prince {Paris}, nothing but heavenly businesse,
 Should rob my bed mate of my company.
*<S {Dio}.> That's my minde too? good morrow Lord {Aeneas}.
 <S {Paris}.> A valiant Greeke {Aeneas} take his hand.
<P G4v>
 Witnesse the processe of your speech: wherein
 You told how {Dyomed} a whole weeke by daies,
 Did haunt you in the field.
 <S {Aene}.> Health to you valiant sir,
 During all question of the gentle truce:
 But when I meete you arm'd, as black defiance,
 As heart can thinke or courage execute.
 <S {Diom}.> The one and other {Diomed} embraces,
 Our blouds are now in calme, and so long helth:
 Lul'd when contention, and occasion meete,
 By {Jove} ile play the hunter for thy life,
 With all my force, pursuite, and pollicy.
 <S {Aene}.> And thou shalt hunt a Lyon that will flie,
 With his face back-ward, in humane gentlenesse:
 Welcome to Troy, now by {Anchises} life,
 Welcome indeed: by {Venus} hand I swere:
 No man alive can love in such a sort,
 The thing he meanes to kill, more excellently.
 <S {Diom}.> We simpathize. {Jove} let {Aeneas} live
 (If to my sword his fate be not the glory)
 A thousand compleate courses of the Sunne,
 But in mine emulous honor let him die:
 With every joynt a wound and that to morrow===
 <S {Aene}.> We know each other well?
 <S {Diom}.> We do and long to know each other worse.
 <S {Par}.> This is the most despightfull gentle greeting,
*The noblest hatefull love that ere I heard of, what businesse
 Lord so earely?
 <S {Aene}.> I was sent for to the King? but why I know not.
 <S {Par}.> His purpose meetes you? twas to bring this Greeke,
 To {Calcho's} house, and there to render him:
 For the enfreed {Anthenor} the faire {Cressid},
 Lets have your company, or if you please,
 #Hast there before us. I constantly beleeve,
 (Or rather call my thought a certaine knowledge)
 My brother {Troylus} lodges there to night,
 Rouse him and give him note of our approch,
 With the whole quality wherefore:
<P H1>
 I feare we shall be much unwelcome.
*<S {Aeneas}.> That I assure you: {Troylus} had rather Troy were
 borne to Greece, then {Cresseid} borne from Troy.
 <S {Paris}.> There is no helpe.
 The bitter disposition of the time will have it so:
 On Lord, weele follow you.
 <S {Aeneas}.> Good morrow all.
 <S {Paris}.> And tell me noble {Diomed}, faith tell me true,
 Even in soule of sound good fellowship,
 Who in your thoughts, deserves faire {Helen} best,
 My selfe, or {Menelaus}.
 <S {Diom}.> Both alike.
 Hee merits well to have her that doth seeke her,
 Not making any scruple of her soyle,
 With such a #hell of paine, and world of charge.
 And you as well to keepe her, that defend her,
 Not pallating the taste of her dishonour
 With such a costly losse of wealth and friends,
 He like a puling Cuckold would drinke up,
 The lees and dregs of a flat tamed peece:
 You like a letcher out of whorish loynes,
 Are pleasd to breed out your inheritors,
 Both merits poyzd, each weighs nor lesse nor more,
 Both he as he, the heavier for a whore.
 <S {Paris}.> You are too bitter to your country-#woman.
 <S {Diom}.> Shees bitter to her country, heare me {Paris},
 For every false drop in her bawdy veines,
 A Grecians life hath sunke: for every scruple
 Of her contaminated carrion waight,
 A Troyan hath beene slaine. Since she could speake,
 Shee hath not given so many good words breath,
 As for her Greekes and Troyans suffred death.
 <S {Paris}.> Faire {Diomed} you do as chapmen do,
 Dispraise the thing that they desire to buy,
 But we in silence hold this vertue well,
*Weele not commend, what wee intend to sell. Heere lyes
 our way. <D {Exeunt}.  {Enter Troylus and Cresseida}.>
*<S {Troy}.> Deere, trouble not your selfe, the morne is colde.
<P H1v>
 <S {Cres}.> Then sweet my Lord ile call mine unckle downe,
 Hee shall unbolt the gates.
 <S {Troyl}.> Trouble him not.
 To bed to bed: sleepe kill those pritty eyes,
 And give as soft attachment to thy sences,
 As infants empty of all thought.
 <S {Cres}.> Good morrow then.
 <S {Troyl}.> I prithee now to bed.
 <S {Cres}.> Are you #a weary of me?
 <S {Troyl}.> O {Cresseida}! but that the busie day,
 Wak't by the Larke hath rouzd the ribald Crowes,
 And dreaming night will hide our joyes no longer,
 I would not from thee.
 <S {Cres}.> Night hath beene too briefe.
*<S {Tro}.> Beshrew the witch! with venemous wights she staies
 As tediously as #hell, But flies the graspes of love,
 With wings more momentary swift then thought,
 You will catch colde and curse me.
 <S {Cres}.> Prithee tarry, you men will never tarry,
 O foolish {Cresseid}, I might have still held #of,
 And then you would have tarried. Harke ther's one up.
 <S {Pand}.> Whats all the doores open heere?
 <S {Troyl}.> It is your Uncle.
 <S {Cres}.> A pestilence on him: now will he be mocking:
 I shall have such a life.
 <S {Pand}.> How now, how now, how go maiden-#heads,
 Heere you maide, where's my cozin {Cresseid}?
 <S {Cres}.> Go hang your selfe, you naughty mocking uncle,
 You bring me to doo === and then you floute me #to.
 <S {Pand}.> To do what, to do what? let her say what,
 What have I brought you to doe?
*<S {Cres}.> Come, come, beshrew your heart, youle nere be good,
 nor suffer others.
*<S {Pand}.> Ha, ha: alas poore wretch: a poore {chipochia}, hast
*not slept to night? would hee not (a naughty man) let it
 sleepe, a bug-#beare take him.
*<S {Cres}.> Did not I tell you? would he were knockt ith' head,
 Who's that at doore, good unckle go and see.  <D {One knocks}.>
<P H2>
 My Lord, come you againe into my chamber,
 You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
 <S {Troyl}.> Ha, ha.
 <S {Cres}.> Come you are deceived, I thinke of no such thing,
 How earnestly they knock, pray you come in.  <D {Knock}.>
 I would not for halfe {Troy} have you seene here, <D {Exeunt}.>
*<S {Pand}.> Who's there? what's the matter? will you beate
 downe the doore? How now, what's the matter?
 <S {Aene}.> Good morrow Lord, good morrow.
*<S {Pand}.> Who's there my Lord {Aeneas}: by my troth I knew
 you not: what newes with you so early?
 <S {Aene}.> Is not Prince {Troylus} heere?
 <S {Pand}.> Here, what should he do here?
 <S {Aene}.> Come he is here, my Lord, do not deny him,
 It doth import him much to speake with me:
*<S {Pan}.> Is he here say you? its more then I know ile be sworne
*For my owne part I came in late: what should hee doe
 here?
*<S {Aene}.> Who, nay then! Come, come, youle do him wrong,
*ere you are ware, youle be so true to him, to be false to him:
 Do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither, go.
 <S {Troyl}.> How now, whats the matter?
 <S {Aene}.> My Lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
 My matter is so rash: there is at hand,
 {#Paris} your brother, and {Deiphobus},
 The Grecian {Diomed}, and our {Anthenor}
 Deliver'd to him, and forth-#with,
 Ere the first sacrifice, within this houre,
 We must give up to {Diomedes} hand
 The Lady {Cresseida}.
 <S {Troyl}.> Is it so concluded?
 <S {Aene}.> By {Priam} and the generall state of {Troy},
 They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
 <S {Troyl}.> How my atchivements mock me,
 I will go meete them: and my Lord {Aeneas},
 We met by chance, you did not finde me here.
*<S {Aen}.> Good, good, my lord, the secrets of neighbor {Pandar}
 Have not more guift in taciturnitie.  <D {Exeunt}.>
<P H2v>
*<S {Pand}.> Ist possible: no sooner got but lost, the divell take
*{Anthenor}, the young Prince will go madde, a plague upon
 {Anthenor}. I would they had brok's neck.
*<D {Enter Cress}.> How now? what's the matter? who was heere?
 <S {Pand}.> Ah, ah!
*<S {Cres}.> Why sigh you so profoundly, wher's my Lord? gone?
 tell me sweete Uncle, whats the matter.
*<S {Pan}.> Would I were as deepe under the earth as I am above.
 <S {Cres}.> O the Gods, whats the matter?
*<S {Pand}.> Pray thee get thee in: would thou hadst nere been
*borne, I knew thou wouldest be his death. O poore Gentle-man,
 a plague upon {Anthenor}.
*<S {Cres}.> Good unckle, I beseech you on my knees, whats the
 matter?
*<S {Pand}.> Thou must be gone wench, thou must be gone: thou
*art chang'd for {Anthenor}. Thou must to thy father and bee
*gone from {Troylus}, twill be his death, twill bee his bane, hee
 cannot beare it.
 <S {Cres}.> O you immortall Gods, I will not go.
 <S {Pand}.> Thou must.
 <S {Cres}.> I will not Uncle. I have forgot my father,
 I know no touch of consanguinitie,
 No kinne, no love, no bloud, no soule so neere me
 As the sweete {Troylus}. O you gods divine,
 Make {Cresseids} name the very crowne of falsehood,
 If ever she leave {Troylus}. Time, force and death,
 Do to this body what extreames you can:
 But the strong base, and building of my love,
 Is as the very center of the earth,
 Drawing all things to it. Ile go in and weepe.
 <S {Pand}.> Do, do.
*<S {Cres}.> Teare my bright haire, & scratch my praised cheekes,
 Crack my cleare voyce with sobs, and breake my heart,
 With sounding {Troylus}: I will not go from Troy.
 <D {Enter Paris, Troyl. Aeneas; Deiphob, Anth. Diomedes}.>
 <S {Par}.> It is great morning, and the houre prefixt,
 For her delivery to this valiant Greeke,
 Comes fast upon: good my brother {Troylus}
<P H3>
 Tell you the Lady what she is to doe,
 And #hast her to the purpose.
 <S {Troy}.> Walke into her house,
 Ile bring her to the Grecian presently:
 And to his hand when I deliver her,
 Thinke it an altar, and thy brother {Troylus}
 A priest there offring to it his owne heart.
 <S {Paris}.> I know what tis to love,
 And would, as I shall pitty I could helpe:
 Please you walke in my Lords?  <D {Exeunt}.>
 <D {Enter Pandarus and Cresseida}.>
 <S {Pan:}> Be moderate, be moderate.
 <S {Cress}.> Why tell you me of moderation?
 The greife is fine, full, perfect that I taste,
 And violenteth in a sence as strong
 As that which causeth it, how can I moderate it?
 If I could temporize with my affections,
 Or brew it to a weake and coulder pallat,
 The like alayment could I give my griefe:
 My love admittes no qualifiing drosse,
 No more my griefe in such a precious losse.
 <D {Enter Troylus}.>
 <S {Pan}.> Here, here, here he comes, #a sweete ducks.
 <S {Cres}.> Oh {Troylus}, {Troylus}.
*<S {Pan}.> What a paire of spectacles is here, let me embrace too,
*Oh heart, as the goodly saying is, Oh heart, heavy heart,
*why sighst thou without breaking: where hee answers a-gaine,
*because thou canst not ease thy smart by friendshippe
*nor by speaking: there was never a truer rime. Let us cast a-way
*nothing, for wee may live to have need of such a verse,
 We see it, we see it, how now lambs?
 <S {Troy}.> {Cressid} I love thee in so strain'd a purity,
 That the blest Gods as angry with my fancy:
 More bright in zeale then the devotion, which
 Cold lippes blow to their dieties, take thee from me.
 <S {Cres}.> Have the Gods envy?
 <S {Pan}.> #I, #I, #I, #I, tis #to plaine a case.
 <S {Cres}.> And is it true that I must go from Troy?
<P H3v>
 <S {Troy}.> A hatefull truth.
 <S {Cres}.> What and from {Troylus} #to?
 <S {Troy}.> From Troy, and {Troylus}.
 <S {Cress}.> Is't possible?
 <S {Troy}.> And suddenly, where iniury of chance
 Puts back, leave taking, jussles roughly by:
 All time of pause: rudely beguiles our lippes
 Of all reioyndure: forcibly prevents
 Our lock't embrasures, strangles our dere vowes,
 Even in the birth of our owne laboring breath;
 We two that with so many thousand sighes,
 Did buy each other, must poorely sell our selves:
 With the rude brevity, and discharge of one,
 Iniurious time now with a robbers #hast,
 Cram's his ritch theev'ry up hee knowes not how.
 As many farewells as be starres in heaven.
 With distinct breath, and consignde kisses to them,
 He fumbles up into a loose adewe:
 And skants us with a single famisht kisse,
 Distasted with the salt of broken teares.
 <S {Aeneas} {within}.> My Lord is the Lady ready?
 <S {Troy}.> Harke, you are call'd, some say the {Genius}
 Cries so to him that instantly must die,
 Bid them have pacience she shall come anon.
*<S {Pan}.> Where are my teares raine to lay this winde, or my
 heart wilbe blowne up by my throate.
 <S {Cress}.> I must then to the Grecians.
 <S {Troy}.> No remedy?
 <S {Cress}.> A wofull {Cressid} 'mongst the merry Greekes,
 When shall we see againe.
 <S {Troy}.> Here mee love? be thou but true of heart.
 <S {Cres}.> I true? how now? what wicked deme is this?
 <S {Troy}.> Nay we must use expostulation kindely,
 For it is parting from us.
 I speake not be thou true as fearing thee.
 For I will throw my glove to death himselfe,
 That there is no maculation in thy heart:
 But bee thou true say I to fashion in,
<P H4>
 My sequent protestation, bee thou true, and I will see thee.
 <S {Cres}.> Oh you shalbe expos'd my Lord to dangers,
 As infinite as imminent: but ile be true.
*<S {Troy}.> And ile grow friend with danger, #were this sleeve.
 <S {Cres}.> And you this glove, when shall I see you?
 <S {Troy}.> I will corrupt the Grecian centinells,
 To give thee nightly visitation, but yet be true.
 <S {Cres}.> Oh heavens be true againe?
 <S {Troy}.> #Here why I speake it love,
 The Grecian youths are full of quality,
 And swelling ore with arts and excercise:
 How novelty may move, and parts with portion,
 Alas a kinde of Godly jealousie,
 (Which I beseech you cal a vertuous sinne,)
 Makes me #a feard.
 <S {Cres}.> Oh heavens you love mee not!
 <S {Troy}.> Die I a villaine then,
 In this I do not call your faith in question:
 So mainely as my merit. I cannot sing
 Nor heele the high lavolt, nor sweeten talke,
 Nor play at subtill games, faire vertues all:
 To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant,
 But I can tell that in each grace of these:
 There lurkes a still, and dumb-#discoursive divell
 That tempts most cunningly, but be not tempted.
 <S {Cres}.> Do you thinke I will?
 <S {Troy}.> No, but somthing may be done that we will not,
 And sometimes we are divells to our selves:
 When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
 Presuming on their changefull potency.
 <S {Eneas} {within}.> Nay good my Lord?
 <S {Troy}.> Come kisse, and let us part.
 <S {Paris} {within}.> Brother {Troylus}?
 <S {Troy}.> Good brother come you hither?
 And bring {Eneas} and the Grecian with you.
 <S {Cres}.> My Lord will you be true?
 <S {Troy}.> Who I, alas it is my vice, my fault,
 Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
<P H4v>
 I with great truth catch mere simplicity,
 Whilst some with cunning guild their copper crownes,
 With truth and plainesse I do #were mine bare:
 Feare not my truth, the morrall of my wit,
 Is plaine and true? ther's all the reach of it,
 Welcome sir {Diomed}, here is the Lady,
 Which for {Antenor} we deliver you.
 At the port (Lord) Ile give her to thy hand,
 And by the way possesse thee what she is
 Entreate her faire, and by my soule faire Greeke,
 If ere thou stand at mercy of my sword:
 Name {Cressid}, and thy life shalbe as safe,
 As {Priam} is in Illion?
 <S {Diom}.> Faire Ladie {Cressid},
 So please you save the thankes this Prince expects:
 The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheeke,
 Pleades your faire usage, and to {Diomed},
 You shalbe mistres, and command him wholy.
 <S {Troy}.> Grecian thou do'st not use me curteously,
 To shame the seale of my petition to thee:
 In praising her. I tell thee Lord of Greece,
 She is as farre high soaring ore thy praises:
 As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant,
 I charge thee use her well, even for my charge:
 For by the dreadfull {Pluto}, if thou dost not,
 Though the great bulke {Achilles} be thy guard,
 Ile cut thy throate.
 <S {Diom}.> Oh be not mov'd Prince {Troylus},
 Let me be priveledg'd by my place and message:
 To be a speaker free? when I am hence,
 Ile answer to my lust, and know you Lord
 Ile nothing do on charge, to her owne worth,
 Shee shalbe priz'd: but that you say be't so,
 I speake it in my spirit and honour #no.
 <S {Troy}.> Come to the port Ile tel thee {Diomed},
 This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head,
 Lady give me your hand, and as we walke,
 To our owne selves bend we our needfull talke.
<P I1>
 <S {Paris}.> Harke {Hectors} trumpet?
 <S {Aene}.> How have we spent this morning?
 The Prince must thinke me tardy and remisse,
 That swore to ride before him to the field.
*<S {Par}.> Tis {Troylus} falte, come, come, to field with him.  <D {Exeu[nt]}.>
 <D {Enter Aiax armed, Achilles, Patroclus, Agam}.
 {Menelaus, Ulisses, Nester, Calcas. &c}.>
 <S {Aga}.> Here art thou in appointment fresh and faire,
 Anticipating time. With starting courage,
 Give with thy trumpet a loude note to Troy
 Thou dreadfull {Aiax} that the appauled aire,
*May pearce the head of the great Combatant, and hale him
 hither.
 <S {Aiax}.> Thou, trumpet, ther's my purse,
 Now cracke thy lungs, and split thy brasen pipe:
 Blow villaine, till thy sphered Bias cheeke,
 Out-#swell the collick of puft {Aquilon},
 Come stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout bloud:
 Thou blowest for {Hector}.
 <S {Uliss}.> No trumpet answers.
 <S {Achil}.> Tis but early daies.
 <S {Aga}.> Is not yond {Diomed} with {Calcas} daughter.
 <S {Uliss}.> Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate,
 He rises on the #too: that spirit of his
 In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
 <S {Aga}.> Is this the Lady {Cressid}?
 <S {Diom}.> Even she.
*<S {Aga}.> Most deerely welcome to the Greekes sweete Lady.
 <S {Nest}.> Our generall doth salute you with a kisse.
*<S {Uliss}.> Yet is the kindnesse but perticular, twere better shee
 were kist in general.
*<S {Nest}.> And very courtly counsell. Ile beginne: so much for | ({Nestor}.
 <S {Achil}.> Ile take that winter from your lips faire Lady,
 {Achilles} bids you welcome.
 <S {Men}.> I had good argument for kissing once.
 <S {Patro}.> But thats no argument for kissing now,
 For thus pop't {Paris} in his hardiment,
 And parted thus, you and your argument.
<P I1v>
 <S {Uliss}.> Oh deadly gall and theame of all our scornes,
 For which we loose our heads to guild his hornes.
 <S {Patro}.> The first was {Menelaus} kisse this mine,
 {Patroclus} kisses you.
 <S {Mene}.> Oh this is trim.
 <S {Patr}.> {Paris} and I kisse evermore for him.
 <S {Mene}.> Ile have my kisse sir? Lady by your leave.
 <S {Cres}.> In kissing do you render or receive.
 <S {Patr}.> Both take and give.
 <S {Cres}.> Ile make my match to live,
*The kisse you take is better then you give: therefore no kisse.
 <S {Mene}.> Ile give you boote, ile give you three for one.
 <S {Cres}.> You are an od man give even or give none.
 <S {Mene}.> An odde man Lady, every man is odde.
 <S {Cres}.> No {Paris} is not, for you know tis true,
 That you are odde and he is even with you.
 <S {Mene}.> You fillip me a'th head.
 <S {Cres}.> No ile be sworne.
 <S {Uliss}.> It were no match, your naile against his horne,
 May I sweete Lady begge a kisse of you.
 <S {Cres}.> You may.  <S {Uliss}.> I do desire it.
 <S {Cres}.> Why begge then.
 <S {Ulis}.> Why then for {Venus} sake give me a kisse,
 When {Hellen} is a maide againe and his===
 <S {Cres}.> I am your debtor, claime it when tis due.
 <S {Ulis}.> Nevers my day, and then a kisse of you.
 <S {Diom}.> Lady a word, ile bring you to your father.
 <S {Nest}.> A woman of quick sence.
 <S {Uliss}.> Fie, fie upon her,
 Ther's language in her eye, her cheeke her lip,
 Nay her foote speakes, her wanton spirits looke out
 At every joynt and motive of her body,
 Oh these encounterers so glib of tongue,
 That give a coasting welcome ere it comes.
 And wide unclaspe the tables of their thoughts,
 To every ticklish reader, set them downe,
 For sluttish spoiles of opportunity:
 And daughters of the game. <D {Flowrish enter all of Troy}.>
<P I2>
 <S {All}.> The Troyans trumpet.
 <S {Agam}.> Yonder comes the troup.
 <S {Aene}.> Haile all the state of Greece: what shalbe done,
 To him that victory commands, or doe you purpose,
 A victor shalbe knowne, will you the knights
 Shall to the edge of all extremity
 Pursue each other, or shall they be divided,
 By any voice or order of the field, {Hector} bad aske?
 <S {Aga}.> Which way would {Hector} have it?
 <S {Aene}.> He cares not, heele obay condicions.
 <S {Aga:}> Tis done like {Hector}, but securely done,
 A little proudly, and great deale misprising:
 The knight oppos'd.
 <S {Aene}.> If not {Achilles} sir, what is your name?
 <S {Achil}.> If not {Achilles} nothing:
 <S {Ene:}> Therefore {Achilles}, but what ere know this,
 In the extremity of great and little:
 Valour and pride excell themselves in {Hector}
 The one almost as infinite as all,
 The other blanke as nothing, way him well:
 And that which lookes like pride is curtesie,
 This {Aiax} is halfe made of {Hectors} bloud,
 In love whereof, halfe {Hector} staies at home,
 Halfe heart, halfe hand, halfe {Hector} comes to seeke:
 This blended knight halfe Troyan, and halfe Greeke.
 <S {Achil}.> A maiden battell then, Oh I perceive you.
 <S {Aga}.> Here is sir {Diomed}? go gentle knight,
 Stand by our {Aiax}. As you and Lord {Eneas}
 Consent upon the order of their fight,
 So be it, either to the uttermost,
 Or els a breath, the combatants being kin,
 Halfe stints their strife, before their strokes begin.
 {#Ulisses}: what Troyan is that same that lookes so heavy?
 <S {Ulis}.> The yongest sonne of {Priam}, a true knight,
 Not yet mature, yet matchlesse firme of word,
 Speaking deeds, and deedlesse in his tongue,
 Not soone provok't nor beeing provok't soone calm'd,
 His heart and hand both open and both free.
<P I2v>
 For what he has he gives, what thinkes he shewes,
 Yet gives hee not till judgement guide his bounty,
 Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath;
 Manly as {Hector}, but more dangerous,
 For {Hector} in his blaze of wrath subscribes
 To tender obiects, but he in heate of action,
 Is more vindicative then jealous love.
 They call him {Troylus}, and on him erect,
 A second hope as fairely built as {Hector}:
 Thus saies {Aeneas} one that knowes the youth,
 Even to his ynches: and with private soule
 Did in great Illion thus translate him to me.  <D {Alarum}.>
 <S {Aga}.> They are in action.
 <S {Nest}.> Now {Aiax} hould thine owne.
 <S {Troy}.> {Hector} thou sleep'st awake thee.
 <S {Aga}.> His blowes are well dispos'd, there {Aiax}.  <D {trumpets} | {cease}
 <S {Diom}.> You must no more.
 <S {Aene}.> Princes enough so please you.
 <S {Aiax}.> I am not warme yet, let us fight againe.
 <S {Diom}.> As {Hector} pleases.
 <S {Hect}.> Why then will I no more,
 Thou art great Lord my fathers sisters Sonne,
 A couzen german to great {Priams} seede,
 The obligation of our bloud forbids,
 A gory emulation twixt us twaine:
 Were thy commixtion Greeke and Troyan so,
 That thou couldst say this hand is Grecian all:
 And this is Troyan, the sinnewes of this legge
 All Greeke, and this all Troy: my mothers bloud,
 Runnes on the dexter cheeke, and this sinister
 Bounds in my fathers. By {Jove} multipotent
 Thou shouldst not beare from mee a Greekish member,
 Wherein my sword had not impressure made.
 But the just Gods gainsay,
 That any day thou borrowd'st from thy mother,
 My sacred Aunt, should by my mortal sword,
 Be drained. Let me embrace thee {Aiax}:
 By him that thunders thou hast lusty armes,
<P I3>
 {#Hector} would have them fall upon him thus.
 Cozen all honor to thee.
 <S {Aiax}.> I thanke thee {Hector},
 Thou art #to gentle, and too free a man,
 I came to kill thee cozen, and beare hence,
 A great addition earned in thy death.
 <S {Hect}.> Not {Neoptolymus} so mirable,
 On whose bright crest, fame with her lowdst (O yes)
 Cries, this is he, could promise to himselfe,
 A thought of added honor, torne from {Hector}.
 <S {Aene}.> There is expectance heere from both the sides.
 What further you will do.
 <S {Hect}.> Weele answer it,
 The issue is embracement, {Aiax} farewell.
 <S {Aiax}.> If I might in entreaties finde successe,
 As seld I have the chance, I would desire,
 My famous cosin to our Grecian tents.
 <S {Diom}.> Tis {Agamemnons} wish, and great {Achilles}
 Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant {Hector}.
 <S {Hect}.> {Aeneas} call my brother {Troylus} to me.
 And signifie this loving enterview
 To the expectors of our Troyan part,
 Desire them home. Give me thy hand my Cozen.
 I will go eate with thee, and see your Knights.
 <S {Aiax}.> Great {Agamemnon} comes to meete us heere.
 <S {Hect}.> The worthiest of them, tell me name by name:
 But for {Achilles} my owne searching eyes,
 Shall finde him by his large and portly size.
 <S {Agam}.> Worthy all armes as welcome as to one,
 That would be rid of such an enemy.
 From heart of very heart, great {Hector} welcome.
 <S {Hect}.> I thanke thee most imperious {Agamemnon}.
 <S {Agam}.> My well-#fam'd Lord of Troy, no lesse to you.
 <S {Mene}.> Let me confirme my princely brothers greeting:
 You brace of warlike brothers: welcome hether.
 <S {Hect}.> Who must we answer?
 <S {Aene}.> The noble {Menelaus}.
 <S {Hect}.> O you my Lord, by {Mars} his gauntlet thankes,
<P I3v>
 (Mock not thy affect, the untraded earth)
 Your {quandom} wife sweares still by {Venus} glove,
 Shees well, but bad me not commend her to you.
 <S {Men}.> Name her not now sir, shee's a deadly theame.
 <S {Hect}.> O pardon, I offend.
 <S {Nest}.> I have thou gallant Troyan seene thee oft,
 Laboring for destiny, make cruell way,
 Through rankes of Greekish youth, and I have seene thee
 As hot as {Perseus}, spurre thy Phrigian steed,
 Despising many forfaits and subduments,
 When thou hast hung th'#advanced sword ith'#ayre,
 Not letting it decline on the declined,
 That I have said to some my standers by,
 Loe {Jupiter} is yonder dealing life.
 And I have seene thee pause, and take thy breath,
 When that a ring of Greekes have shrupd thee in,
 Like an Olympian wrastling. This have I seene,
 But this thy countenance still lockt in steele,
 I never saw till now: I knew thy grand-#sire,
 And once fought with him, he was a soldier good,
 But by great {Mars} the Captaine of us all,
 Never like thee: O let an old man embrace thee,
 And worthy warriour welcome to our tents.
 <S {Aene}.> Tis the old {Nestor}.
 <S {Hect}.> Let me embrace thee good old Chronicle,
 That hast so long walkt hand in hand with time,
 Most reverend {Nestor}, I am glad to claspe thee.
*<S {Nest}.> I would my armes could match thee in contention.
 <S {Hect}.> I would they could.
*<S {Nest}.> Ha? by this white beard Ide fight with thee to mor-|(row.
 Well, welcome, welcome, I have seene the time.
 <S {Ulis}.> I wonder now how yonder Citty stands,
 When we have here her base and piller by us?
 <S {Hect}.> I know your favour lord {Ulisses} well,
 Ah sir, there's many a Greeke and Troyan dead,
 Since first I saw your selfe and {Diomed},
 In Illion on your Greekish embassie.
 <S {Ulis}.> Sir I foretold you then what would ensue,
<P I4>
 My prophecie is but halfe his journey yet,
 For yonder walls that pertly front your towne,
 Yon towers, whose wanton tops do busse the clouds,
 Must kisse their owne feete.
 <S {Hect}.> I must not beleeve you.
 There they stand yet, and modestly I thinke,
 The fall of every Phrigian stone will cost,
 A drop of Grecian bloud: the end crownes all,
*And that old common arbitrator Time, will one day end it.
 <S {Ulis}.> So to him we leave it.
 Most gentle and most valiant {Hector}, welcome:
 After the Generall, I beseech you next
 To feast with me, and see me at my tent.
 <S {Achil}.> I shall forestall thee lord {Ulisses} thou:
 Now {Hector} I have fed mine eyes on thee,
*I have with exact view perusde thee {Hector}, & quoted joynt | (by joint.
 <S {Hect}.> Is this {Achilles}?  <S {Achil}.> I am {Achilles}.
 <S {Hect}.> Stand faire I pray thee, let me looke on thee,
 <S {Achil}.> Behold thy fill.
 <S {Hect}.> Nay I have done already.
 <S {Hect}.> O like a booke of sport thov'lt read me ore:
 But ther's more in me then thou understandst,
 Why doost thou so oppresse me with thine eye.
 <S {Achil}.> Tell me you heavens, in which part of his body
 Shall I destroy him: whether there, or there, or there,
 That I may give the locall wound a name,
 And make distinct the very breach, whereout
 {Hectors} great spirit flew: answer me heavens.
 <S {Hect}.> It would discredit the blest gods, proud man,
 To answer such a question: stand againe,
 Thinkst thou to catch my life so pleasantly,
 As to prenominate in nice coniecture,
 Where thou wilt hit me dead.
 <S {Achil}.> I tell thee yea.
 <S {Hect}.> Wert thou an Oracle to tell me so,
 Ide not beleeve thee. Hence-#forth gard thee well,
<P I4v>
 For Ile not kill thee there, nor there, nor there,
 But by the forge that stichied {Mars} his helme.
 Ile kill thee every where, yea ore and ore.
 You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag,
 His insolence drawes folly from my lips,
 But ile endevour deeds to match these words,
 Or may I never===
 <S {Aiax}.> Do not chafe thee cozen.
 And you {Achilles}, let these threats alone,
 Till accident or purpose bring you too't,
 You may have every day enough of {Hector},
 If you have stomack. The generall state I feare,
 Can scarce entreate you to be odde with him.
 <S {Hect}.> I pray you let us see you in the field,
*We have had pelting warres since you refusd, the Grecians
 (cause.
 <S {Achil}.> Doost thou entreate me {Hector}?
*To morow do I meet thee fell as death: to night all friends.
 <S {Hect}.> Thy hand upon that match.
 <S {Agam}.> First all you Peeres of Greece, go to my tent,
 There in the full convive we: afterwards
 As {Hectors} leisure, and your bounties shall
 Concurre together, severally entreate him
 To taste your bounties, let the trumpets blowe,
 That this great souldier may his welcome know.  <D {Exeunt}.>
 <S {Troy}.> My Lord {Ulisses}, tell me I beseech you,
 In what place of the field doth {Calcas} keepe.
 <S {Ulis}.> At {Menelaus} tent, most princely {Troylus}:
 There {Diomed} doth feast with him to night,
 Who neither lookes upon the heaven nor earth,
 But gives all gaze, and bent of amorous view,
 On the faire {Cresseid}.
 <S {Troyl}.> Shall I sweete Lord be bound to you so much,
 After we part from {Agamemnons} tent,
 To bring me thether.
 But gentle tell me of what honor was
 This {Cressida} in Troy? had she no lover there
 That wailes her absence?
<P K1>
 <S {Tro}.> O sir to such as bosting shew their skarres,
 A mocke is due; will you walke on my Lord,
 Shee was beloved my Lord, she is, and doth,
 But still sweet love is food for fortunes tooth.  <D {Exeunt}.>
 <D {Enter Achilles and Patroclus}.>
 <S {Ach}.> Ile heate his blood with greekish wine to night,
 Which with my Cemitar ile cool to morrow,
 {Patroclus} let us feast him to the hight
 <S {Pat}.> Here comes {Thersites}.  <D {Enter Thersites}.>
 <S {Ach}.> How now thou curre of envy.
 Thou crusty batch of nature whats the news?
 <S {The}.> Why thou picture of what thou seemest, and Idoll,
 Of idiot worshippers heers a letter for thee.
 <S {Ach}.> From whence fragment.
 <S {The}.> Why thou full dish of foole from Troy,
 <S {Pat}.> Who keeps the tent now.
 <S {The}.> The Surgeons box or the pacients wound.
 <S {Pat}.> Well said adversity, and what needs this tricks,
 <S {The}.> Prithee be silent box I profit not by thy talke,
 Thou art said to be {Achilles} male varlot,
 <S {Pat}.> Male varlot you rogue whats that.
*<S {The}.> Why his masculine whore, now the rotten diseases
*of the south, the guts griping ruptures: loades #a gravell in
*the back, lethergies, #could palsies, rawe eies, durtrotte[n] livers,
*whissing lungs, bladders full of impostume. Sciaticaes lime-kills
*ith' palme, incurable bone-#ach, and the riveled fee sim-ple
*of the tetter, take and take againe such preposterous
 discoveries.
*<S {Pat}.> Why thou damnable box of envy thou what meanes
 thou to curse thus.
 <S {The}.> Do I curse thee.
*<S {Pat}.> Why no you ruinous #but, you horson indistinguish-able
 cur, no.
*<S {The}.> No why art thou then exasperate, thou idle imma-terial
*skeine of sleive silke, thou greene sacenet flap for a sore
*eye, thou toslell of a prodigalls purse-#thou ah how the poore
*world is pestred with such water flies, diminitives of nature.
<P K1v>
 <S {Pat}.> Out gall.  <S {Ther}.> Finch egge.
 <S {Achil}.> My sweet {Patroclus} I am thwarted quite,
 From my great purpose into morrowes battell,
 Here is a letter from Queene {Hecuba};
 A token from her daughter my faire love
 Both taxing me, and gaging me to keepe:
 An oth that I have sworne: I wil not breake it,
 Fall Greekes, fayle fame, honour or go or stay,
 My {maior} vow lies here; this ile obay,
 Come, come, {Thersites} help to trim my tent?
*This night in banquetting must al be spent, away {Patroclus}.
*<S {Ther}.> With #to much bloud, and #to little braine, these two
*may run mad, but if with #to much braine and #to little bloud
*they do ile be a curer of mad-#men, her's {Agamemnon}, an ho-nest
*fellow inough, and one that loves quailes, but hee has
*not so much braine as eare-#wax, and the goodly transfor-mation
*of {Jupiter} there, his be the Bull, the primitive statue,
*and oblique memorial of cuck-olds, a thrifty shooing-#horne
*in a chaine at his bare legge, to what forme but that hee is,
*should wit larded with malice, and malice faced with witte,
*turne him to: to an Asse, were nothing hee is both Asse and
*Oxe, to an Oxe were nothing, her's both Oxe and Asse, to be
*#a day, a Moyle, a Cat, a Fichooke, a Tode, a Lezard, an Oule,
*a Puttock, or a Herring without a rowe. I would not care,
*but to bee {Menelaus} I would conspire against desteny, aske
*me what I would be, if I were not {Thersites}, for I care not to
*be the Louse of a Lazar, so I were not {Menelaus}=== hey-#day
 sprites and fires.
 <D {Enter Agam: Ulisses, Nest: and Diomed with lights}.>
 <S {Aga}.> We go wrong we goe wrong.
 <S {Aiax}.> No, yonder tis there where we see the lights.
 <S {Hect}.> I trouble you.  <S {Aiax}.> No not a whit:
 <S {Ulis}.> Here comes himselfe to guide you.
 <S {Achil}.> Welcome brave {Hector}, welcome Princes all.
 <S {Aga}.> So now faire Prince of Troy, I bid God night,
 {#Aiax} commands the guard to tend on you.
 <S {Hect}.> Thanks and good night to the Greekes generall.
 <S {Mene}.> Good night my Lord.
<P K2>
 <S {Hect}.> Good night sweet Lord {Menelaus}.
*<S {Ther}.> Sweet draught, sweet quoth #a, sweet sinke, sweet sure.
*<S {Achil}.> Good night and welcome both to those that go or
 tarry.  <S {Aga}.> Good night.  <D {Exeunt Agam: Menelaus}.>
 <S {Achil}.> Old {Nestor} tarries, and you to {Diomed}.
 Keepe {Hector} company an houre or two.
 <S {Dio}.> I cannot Lord, I have important businesse,
 The tide whereof is now, good night great {Hector}.
 <S {Hect}.> Give me your hand.
*<S {Ulis}.> Follow his torch, he goes to {Calcas} tent, ile keepe you
 company.  <S {Troy}.> Sweet sir you honor me?
 <S {Hect}.> And so good night.
 <S {Achil}.> Come, come, enter my tent.  <D {Exeunt}.>
*<S {Ther}.> That same {Diomed}s a false hearted roague, a most un-iust
*knave, I will no more trust him when hee leeres, then I
*will a serpent when hee hisses, hee will spend his mouth and
*promise like brabler the hound, but when he performes, As-tronomers
*foretell it, it is prodigious, there will come some
*change, the Sonne borrowes of the Moone when {Diomed}
*keepes his word, I will rather leave to see {Hector} then not
*to dog him, they say hee keepes a Troyan drab, and uses the
*traytor {Calcas} tent. Ile after === nothing but letchery all in-continent
 varlots.  <D {Enter Diomed}.>
 <S {Dio}.> What are you up here ho? speake?  <S {Chal}.> Who calls?
 <S {Dio}.> {Diomed}, {Chalcas} I thinke wher's your daughter?
 <S {Cal}.> She comes to you.
 <S {Ulis}.> Stand, where the torch may not discover us.
 <S {Troy}.> {Cressid} comes forth to him.  <D {Enter Cressid}.>
 <S {Dio}.> How now my charge.
 <S {Cres}.> Now my sweet gardian, harke a word with you.
 <S {Troy}.> Yea so familiar?
 <S {Ulis}.> Shee will sing any man at first sight.
*<S {Ther}.> And any man may sing her, if hee can take her Cliff,
 she's noted.  <S {Dio}.> Will you remember?
 <S {Cal}.> Remember yes:
*<S {Dio:}> Nay but do then and let your minde be coupled with
 (your words.
 <S {Troy}.> What shall she remember.  <S {Ulis}.> List?
 <S {Cres}.> Sweet hony Greeke tempt me no more to folly.
<P K2v>
 <S {Ther:}> Roguery. <S {Dio}.> Nay then:
 <S {Crese:}> Ile tell you what.
 <S {Dio:}> Fo, fo, come tell a pin you are forsworne.
 <S {Cres:}> In faith I cannot, what would you have me do?
 <S {Ther:}> A jugling tricke to be secretly open,
 <S {Dio:}> What did you sweare you would bestow on me?
 <S {Cres:}> I prethee do not hold me to mine oath,
 Bid me do any thing but that sweete Greeke.
 <S {Dio:}> Good night.
 <S {Troy:}> Hold patience.
 <S {Ulis:}> How now Troyan.  <S {Cres}.> Diomed.
 <S {Dio}.> No, no, good night Ile be your foole no more.
 <S {Troy:}> Thy better must.
 <S {Cres:}> Harke a word in your eare.
 <S {Troy:}> O plague and madnesse!
 <S {Ulis:}> You are moved Prince, let us depart I pray
 Least your displeasure should inlarge it selfe
 To wrathfull tearmes, this place is dangerous:
 The time right deadly, I beseech you goe.
 <S {Troy:}> Behold I pray you.
 <S {Ulis:}> Now good my Lord go off.
 You flow to great distruction, come my Lord.
 <S {Troy:}> I prethee stay.
 <S {Ulis:}> You have not patience, come.
 <S {Troy:}> I pray you stay; by #hell, and all hells torments,
 I will not speake a word.
 <S {Dio:}> And so good night.
 <S {Cres:}> Nay but you part in anger.
 <S {Troy:}> Doth that grieve thee, O withered truth.
 <S {Ulis:}> How now my Lord?
 <S {Troy:}> By {Jove} I will be patient.
 <S {Cres:}> Gardian? why {Greeke}?  <S {Dio:}> Fo fo you palter.
 <S {Cres}.> In faith I doe not, come hether once again.
*<S {Ulis:}> You shake my Lord at something, will you goe: you
 wil break out.
 <S {Troy}.> She stroakes his cheeke.  <S {Ulis}.> Come, come.
 <S {Troy}.> Nay stay, by {Jove} I will not speake a word.
 There is betweene my #will and all offences
<P K3>
 A guard of patience, stay a little while.
*<S {Ther:}> How the divell {Luxury} with his fat rumpe and po-tato
 finger, tickles together; frye lechery frye.
 <S {Dio:}> Will you then?
 <S {Cres:}> In faith I will lo, never trust me else.
 <S {Dio:}> Give me some token for the surety of it.
 <S {Cres:}> Ile fetch you one.  <D {Exit}.>
 <S {Ulis:}> You have sworne patience:
 <S {Troy:}> Feare me not my Lord.
 I will not be my selfe, nor have cognition
 Of what I feele, I am all patience:  <D {Enter Cress}.>
 <S {Ther:}> Now the pledge, now, now, now.
 <S {Cres:}> Heere {Diomed} keepe this sleeve.
 <S {Troy:}> O beauty where is thy faith!
 <S {Ulis:}> My Lord.
 <S {Troy:}> You looke upon that sleeve behold it well,
 Hee love'd me (oh false wench) giv't me againe:
 <S {Dio:}> Whose #wast?
 <S {Cres:}> It is no matter now I ha't againe.
 I will not meete with you to morrow night:
 I prethee {Diomed} visite me no more.
 <S {Ther:}> Now shee sharpens, well said {Whetstone}.
 <S {Dio:}> I shall have it.
 <S {Cres:}> What this?  <S {Dio:}> #I that.
 <S {Cres:}> O all you gods; O pretty pretty pledge!
 Thy maister now lyes thinking on his bed
 Of thee and mee, and sighes, and takes my glove,
 And gives memoriall dainty kisses to it, as I kisse thee.
 <S {Dio:}> Nay do not snatch it from me.
 <S {Cres:}> He that takes that doth take my heart withall.
 <S {Dio:}> I had your heart before, this followes it.
 <S {Troy:}> I did sweare patience.
 You shall not have it {Diomed,} faith you shall not,
 Ile give you something else.
 <S {Dio:}> I will have this, whose was it?
 <S {Cres:}> It is no matter.
 <S {Dio}.> Come tell me whose it was?
 <S {Cres}.> Twas on's that lov'd me better then you will,
<P K3v>
 But now you have it take it.
 <S {Dio:}> Whose was it?
 <S {Cres:}> And by all {Dianas} wayting women yond
 And by her selfe I will not tell you whose.
 <S {Dio:}> To morrow will I weare it on my Helme,
 And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.
 <S {Troy:}> Wert thou the divell, and wor'st it on thy horne,
 It should be challengd.
 <S {Cres:}> Well, well, tis done, tis past: and yet it is not.
 I will not keepe my word.
*<S {Dio:}> Why then farewell, thou never shalt mocke {Diomed}
 againe.
*<S {Cres:}> You shall not goe: one cannot speake a word but it
 straight starts you.
 <S {Dio:}> I doe not like this fooling.
*<S {Ther:}> Nor I by {Pluto}; but that that likes not you, pleases
 me best.
 <S {Dio:}> What shall I come? the houre===
 <S {Cres:}> #I come; O {Jove}: do come, I shall be plagued.
 <S {Dio:}> Farewell till then.
 <S {Cres:}> Good night, I prethee come:
 {#Troylus} farewell, one eye yet lookes on thee,
 But with my heart the other eye doth see,
 Ah poore our sex, this fault in us I find,
 The error of our eye directs our mind,
 What error leads must erre: O then conclude,
 =Mindes swayd by eyes are full of turpitude.  <D {Exit}.>
 <S {Ther:}> A proofe of strength, she could not publish more,
 Unlesse shee said my mind is now turn'd whore.
 <S {Ulis:}> All's done my Lord.  <S {Troy:}> It is.
 <S {Ulis:}> Why stay we then?
 <S {Troy:}> To make a recordation to my soule
 Of every sillable that here was spoke:
 But if I tell how these two did Court,
 Shall I not lye in publishing a truth,
 Sith yet there is a credence in my heart.
 An esperance so obstinatly strong,
 That doth invert th'#attest of eyes and eares,
<P K4>
 As if those organs were deceptions functions,
 Created onely to calumniate. Was {Cresseid} heere?
 <S {Ulis}.> I cannot coniure Troyan.
 <S {Troyl}.> Shee was not sure.
 <S {Ulis}.> Most sure she was.
 <S {Troy}.> Why my negation hath no taste of madnesse.
 <S {Ulis}.> Nor mine my Lord: {Cresseid} was heere but now.
 <S {Troyl}.> Let it not be beleev'd for woman-#hood.
 Thinke we had mothers, do not give advantage
 To stubborne Critiques apt without a theme
 For depravation, to square the generall sex
 By {Cresseids} rule. Rather thinke this not {Cresseid}.
 <S {Uli}.> What hath she done Prince that ca[n] spoile our mothers.
 <S {Troyl}.> Nothing at all, unlesse that this were she.
 <S {Ther}.> Will #a swagger himselfe out on's owne eyes.
 <S {Troyl}.> This she, no this is {Diomeds Cresseida},
 If beauty have a soule this is not shee:
 If soules guide vowes, if vowes be sanctimonies,
 If sanctimony be the gods delight:
 If there be rule in unitie it selfe,
 This was not shee: O madnesse of discourse,
 That cause sets up with and against it selfe,
 By-#fould authority: where reason can revolt
 Without perdition, and losse assume all reason,
 Without revolt. This is and is not {Cresseid},
 Within my soule there doth conduce a sight
 Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparat,
 Divides more wider then the skie and earth:
 And yet the spacious bredth of this division,
 Admits no orifex for a point as subtle,
 As {Ariachna's} broken woofe to enter,
 Instance, O instance strong as {Plutoes} gates,
 {Cresseid} is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven,
 Instance, O instance, strong as heaven it selfe,
 The bonds of heaven are slipt, dissolv'd and loosd,
 And with another knot finde finger tied,
 The fractions of her faith, orts of her love.
 The fragments, scraps, the bitts and greazie reliques.
<P K4v>
 Of her ore-#eaten faith, are given to {Diomed}.
 <S {Ulis}.> May worthy {Troylus} be halfe attached
 With that which heere his passion doth expresse?
 <S {Troy}.> #I Greeke, and that shall be divulged well
 In Characters as red as {Mars} his heart
 Inflam'd with {Venus}: never did young man fancy
 With so eternall and so fixt a soule.
 Harke Greeke, as much I do {Cressid} love,
 So much by waight, hate I her {Diomed}:
 That sleeve is mine, that heele beare on his Helme:
 Were it a Caske compos'd by {Vulcans} skill
 My sword should bite it: Not the dreadfull spout
 Which Shipmen do the hurricano call,
 Constringd in Masse by the almighty sunne
*Shal dizzy with more clamour Neptunes eare, in his discent,
 Then shall my prompted sword, falling on {Diomed}.
 <S {Ther:}> Heele ticle it for his concupie.
 <S {Troy:}> O {Cressid}, O false {Cressid}, false, false, false:
 Let all untruthes stand by thy stained name,
 And theyle seeme glorious.
 <S {Ulis:}> O containe your selfe;
 Your passion drawes eares hether.  <D {Enter Eneas}.>
 <S {Aene:}> I have beene seeking you this houre my Lord:
 {#Hector} by this is arming him in Troy:
 {#Aiax} your guard stayes to conduct you home.
 <S {Troy:}> Have with you Prince: my curteous Lord adiew,
 Farewell revoulted faire: and {Diomed}
 Stand fast, and weare a Castle on thy head.
 <S {Ulis}.> Ile bring you to the gates
 <S {Troy}.> Accept distracted thankes.
 <D {Exeunt Troyl. Eneas and Ulisses}.>
*<S {Ther}.> Would I could meete that roague {Diomed} I would
*croke like a Raven, I would bode, I would bode: {Patroclus}
*will give me any thing for the inteligence of this whore: the
*Parrot will not do more for an almond then he for a commo-dious
*drab: Lechery, lechery, still warres and lechery, nothing
 else holds fashion. A burning divell take them.  <D {Exit}.>
<P L1>
 <D {Enter Hector and Andromache}.>
 <S {And}.> When was my Lord so much ungently temperd,
 To stop his eares against admonishment:
 Unarme, unarme, and do not fight to day.
 <S {Hect}.> You traine me to offend you, get you in,
 By all the everlasting gods Ile go.
*<S {And}.> My dreames will sure proove ominous to the day.
 <S {Hect}.> No more I say.
 <D {Enter Cassandra}.>
 <S {Cas}.> Where is my brother {Hector}?
 <S {And}.> Here sister, arm'd and bloody in intent,
 Consort with me in lowd and deere petition,
 Pursue we him on knees: for I have dreamt
 Of bloudy turbulence, and this whole night
 Hath nothing beene but shapes and formes of slaughter.
 <S {Cass}.> O tis true.
 <S {Hect}.> Ho? bid my trumpet sound.
*<S {Cres}.> No notes of sallie for the heavens sweete brother.
 <S {Hect}.> Begon I say, the gods have heard me sweare.
 <S {Cas}.> The gods are deafe to hotte and peevish vowes,
 They are polluted offrings more abhord,
 Then spotted livers in the sacrifice.
 <S {And}.> O be perswaded, do not count it holy,
 It is the purpose that makes strong the vow,
 But vowes to every purpose must not hold:
 Unarme sweet {Hector}.
 <S {Hect}.> Hold you still I say,
 Mine honor keepes the weather of my fate::
 Life every man holds deere but the deere man,
 Holds honor farre more precious deere then life,
 <D {Enter Troylus}.>
 How now yong man, meanest thou to fight to day.
*<S {And}.> {Cassandra} call my father to perswade. <D {Exit Cassan}.>
 <S {Hect}.> No faith yong {Troylus}, doffe thy harnesse youth,
 I am to day ith' vaine of chivalrie,,
 Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
 And tempt not yet the brushes of the warre.
 Unarme thee go, and doubt thou not brave boy,
<P L1v>
 Ile stand to day for thee and me and Troy.
 <S {Troyl}.> Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,
 Which better fits a Lion then a man.
 <S {Hector}.> What vice is that? good {Troylus} chide mee
 for it.
 <S {Troyl}.> When many times the captive Grecian falls,
 Even in the fanne and winde of your faire sword,
 You bid them rise and live.
 <S {Hect}.> O tis faire play.
 <S {Troyl}.> Fooles play by heaven {Hector}.
 <S {Hect}.> How now? how now?
 <S {Troyl}.> For th'#love of all the gods
 Lets leave the Hermit Pitty with our Mother,
 And when we have our armors buckled on,
 The venomd vengeance ride upon our swords,
 Spur them to ruthfull worke, raine them from ruth.
 <S {Hect}.> Fie savage, fie.
 <S {Troy}.> {Hector} then 'tis warres.
 <S {Hect}.> {Troylus} I would not have you fight to day.
 <S {Troyl}.> Who should with-#hold me?
 Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of {Mars},
 Beckning with fierie trunchion my retire,
 Not {Priamus} and {Hecuba} on knees,
 Their eyes ore-#galled with recourse of teares,
 Nor you my brother, with your true sword drawne,
 Opposd to hinder me, should stop my way,
 <D {Enter Priam and Cassandra}.>
 <S {Cass}.> Lay hold upon him, {Priam} hold him fast,
 He is thy crutch: now if thou loose thy stay,
 Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,
 Fall all together.
 <S {Priam}.> Come {Hector}, come, go back,
 Thy wife hath dreamt, thy mother hath had visions,
 <S {Cassandra}> doth foresee, and I my selfe,
 Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt,
 To tell thee that this day is ominous:
<P L2>
 Therefore come back.
 <S {Hec}.> {Aeneas} is #a field,
 And I do stand, engagd to many Greekes,
 Even in the faith of valour to appeare,
 This morning to them.
 <S {Priam}.> #I but thou shalt not goe.
 <S {Hec}.> I must not breake my faith,
 You know me dutifull, therefore deere sir,
 Let me not shame respect, but give me leave
 To take that course by your consent and voice,
 Which you do here forbid me royall {Priam}.
 <S {Cass}.> O {Priam} yeeld not to him.
 <S {And}.> Do not deere father.
 <S {Hec}.> {Andromache} I am offended with you,
 Upon the love you beare me get you in.  <D {Exit Androm}.>
 <S {Troy}.> This foolish dreaming superstitious girle,
 Makes all these bodements.
 <S {Cas}.> O farewell deere {Hector}.
 Looke how thy dy'est looke how thy eye turnes pale.
 Looke how thy wounds do bleed at many vents,
 Harke how Troy roares, how {Hecuba} cries out,
 How poore {Andromache} shrils her dolours foorth,
 Behold, destruction, frenzie, and amazement,
 Like witlesse antiques one another meete,
 And all crie {Hector, Hector}s dead, O {Hector}.
 <S {Troyl}.> Away, away.
 <S {Cas}.> Farewell, yet soft: {Hector} I take my leave,
 Thou do'st thy selfe and all our Troy deceave?
 <S {Hec}.> You are amaz'd my liege, at her exclaime,
 Goe in and cheere the towne,
 Weele forth and fight,
 Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night.
*<S {Priam}.> Farewell, the gods with safetie stand about thee.
 <D {Alarum}.>
 <S {Troyl}.> They are at it harke, proud {Diomed} beleeve.
 I come to loose my arme, or winne my sleeve.
 <D {Enter Pandar}.>
<P L2v>
 <S {Pand}.> Do you #heere my Lord, do you #heere.
 <S {Troyl}.> What now?
 <S {Pand}.> Heer's a letter come from yond poore girle.
 <S {Troy}.> Let me read.
*<S {Pand}.> A whorson tisick, a whorson rascally tisick, so
*troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this girle, and what
*one thing, what another, that I shall leave you one ath's
*dayes: and I have a rheume in mine eyes too, and such an
*ache in my bones, that unlesse a man were curst I cannot
 tell what to thinke on't. What sayes she there?
*<S {Troy}.> Words, words, meere words, no matter fro[m] the heart,
 Th'#effect doth operate another way.
 Go winde together: winde, there turne and change to
 My love with words and errors still she feedes,
 But edifies another with her deedes.  <D {Exeunt}.>
 <D {Enter Thersites: excursions}.>
*<S {Thersi}.> Now they are clapper-#clawing one another: Ile
*go looke on, that dissembling abhominable varlet {Diomede}.
*has got that same scurvie dooting foolish knaves sleeve of
*Troy there in his helme. I would faine see them meete, that
*that same young Troyan asse that loves the whore there,
*might send that Greekish whore-#masterly villaine with the
*sleeve, back to the dissembling luxurious drabbe of a sleeve-lesse
*arrant. Ath' tother side, the pollicie of those craftie
*swearing raskalls; that stale old Mouse-#eaten drye cheese
*{#Nestor}: and that same dogge-#foxe {Ulisses}, is not proov'd
*worth a Black-#berry. They set mee up in pollicie, that
*mongrill curre {Aiax}, against that dogge of as bad a
*kinde {Achilles}. And now is the curre {Aiax}, prouder then
*the curre {Achilles}, and will not arme to day. Where-#upon
*the Grecians began to proclaime barbarisme, and pollicie
*growes into an #ill opinion. Soft here comes sleeve & tother.
*<S {Troy}.> Flye not, for shouldst thou take the river Stix, I
 would swim after,
 <S {Diomed}.> Thou doost miscall retire,
 I doe not flie, but advantagious care,
 With-#drew me from the ods of multitude, have at thee?
*<S {Ther}.> Hold thy whore Grecian: now for thy whore Troian,
<P L3>
 Now the sleeve, now the sleeve.
 <D {Enter Hector}.>
 <S {Hect}.> What art Greeke, art thou for {Hectors} match.
 Art thou of bloud and honour.
*<S {Ther}.> No, no, I am a rascall, a scurvy rayling knave, a very
 filthy roague.
 <S {Hect}.> I do beleeve thee, live.
*<S {Ther}.> God #a mercy, that thou wilt beleeve me, but a plague
*breake thy neck === for frighting me: whats become of the
*wenching roagues? I thinke they have swallowed one ano-ther.
*I would laugh at that miracle === yet in a sort lechery
 eates it selfe, ile seeke them.  <D {Exit}.>
 <D {Enter Diomed and Servant}.>
 <S {Dio}.> Goe go, my servant take thou {Troylus} horse,
 Present the faire steed to my Lady {Cressid},
 Fellow commend my service to her beauty:
 Tell her I have chastis'd the amorous Troyan,
 And am her knight by proofe.  <D {Enter Agamem}.>
 <S {Man}.> I goe my Lord:
 <S {Aga}.> Renew, renew, the fierce {Polidamas},
 Hath beate downe {Menon}: bastard {Margarelon},
 Hath {Doreus} prisoner.
 And stands {Colossus} wise waving his beame,
 Upon the pashed corses of the Kings:
 {Epistropus} and {Cedus}, {Polixines} is slaine,
 {Amphimacus} and {Thous} deadly hurt,
 {Patroclus} tane or slaine, and {Palamedes}
 Sore hurt and bruised, the dreadfull Sagittary,
 Appalls our numbers, #hast we {Diomed},
 To re-#enforcement or we perish all.
 <D {Enter Nestor}.>
 <S {Nest:}> Go beare {Patroclus} body to {Achilles},
 And bid the snail-#pac't {Aiax} arme for shame,
 There is a thousand {Hectors} in the field:
 Now here he fights on {Galathe} his horse,
 And there lacks worke, anon he's there #a foote
 And there they flie or die, like scaling sculls,
 Before the belching Whale, then is he yonder:
<P L3v>
 And there the strawy Greekes ripe for his edge
 Fall downe before him like a mowers swath,
 Here, there and every where, he leaves and takes,
 Dexterity so obaying appetite,
 That what he will he do's and do's so much:
 That proofe is call'd impossibility.  <D {Enter Ulisses}.>
 <S {Uliss}.> Oh courage, courage Princes, great {Achilles},
 Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance,
 {Patroclus} wounds have rouz'd his drowzy bloud,
 Together with his mangled {Myrmidons}
 That noselesse, handlesse, hackt and chipt come to him.
 Crying on {Hector, Aiax} hath lost a friend,
 And foames at mouth, and hee is armde and at it:
 Roaring for {Troylus}, who hath done to day,
 Madde and fantastique execution:
 Engaging and redeeming of himselfe
 With such a carelesse force, and forcelesse care,
 As if that lust in very spight of cunning, bad him win all.
 <D {Enter Aiax}.> {Troylus}, thou coward {Troylus}.  <D {Exit}.>
 <S {Dio}.> #I there, there?
 <S {Nest:}> So, so, we draw together.  <D {Exit}.>
 <D {Enter Achilles}.>
 <S {Achil}.> Where is this {Hector}?
 Come, come thou boy-#queller shew thy face,
 Know what it is to meete {Achilles} angry
 {#Hector} wher's {Hector}? I will none but {Hector}.  <D {Exit}.>
*<D {Enter Aiax}.> {Troylus} thou coward {Troylus} shew thy head.
 <D {Enter Diom}.> {Troylus} I say wher's {Troylus}?
 <S {Aiax}.> What wouldst thou.
 <S {Diom}.> I would correct him.
*<S {Aiax}.> Were I the generall thou shouldst have my office,
 Ere that correction? {Troylus} I say what {Troylus}.
 <D {Enter Troylus}.>
*<S {Troy}.> Oh traytor {Diomed}, turne thy false face thou traytor,
 And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse.
 <S {Dio}.> Ha art thou there?
 <S {Aiax}.> Ile fight with him alone stand {Diomed}.
<P L4>
 <S {Diom}.> He is my prize, I will not looke upon.
*<S {Troy}.> Come both you cogging Greekes have at you both.
 <S {Hect}.> Yea {Troylus}, O well fought my yongest brother.
 <D {Enter Achil:}> Now do I see thee ha, have at thee {Hector}.
 <S {Hect}.> Pause if thou wilt.
 <S {Achil}.> I do disdaine thy curtesie proud Troyan,
 Be happy that my armes are out of use:
 My rest and negligence befriends thee now,
 But thou anon shalt #here of me againe:
 Till when goe seeke thy fortune.  <D {Exit}.>
 <S {Hect}.> Fare thee well.
 I would have beene much more a fresher man,
 Had I expected thee, how now my brother.  <D {Enter Troyl:}>
 <S {Troy}.> {Aiax} hath tane {Aeneas}, shall it be,
 No by the flame of yonder glorious heaven
 He shall not carry him ile be tane #to,
 Or bring him off, fate #here me what I say:
 I wreake not though I end my life to day.  <D {Exit}.>
 <D {Enter one in armour}.>
*<S {Hect:}> Stand, stand thou Greeke, thou art a goodly marke,
 No? wilt thou not. I like thy armor well,
 Ile frush it and unlock the rivets all:
 But ile be maister of it, wilt thou not beast abide,
 Why then flie on, ile hunt thee for thy hide.  <D {Exit}.>
 <D {Enter Achilles with Myrmidons}.>
 Come here about me you my {Myrmidons},
 Marke what I say, attend me where I wheele:
 Strike not a stroke, but keepe your selves in breth,
 And when I have the bloudy {Hector} found:
 Empale him with your weapons round about,
 In fellest manner execut your armes
 Follow me sirs and my proceedings eye,
 It is decreed {Hector} the great must die.  <D {Exit}.>
 <D {Enter Thersi: Mene: Paris}.>
*<S {Ther}.> The cuck-old and the cuck-old-#maker are at it,
*now bull, now dogge lowe, {Paris} lowe, now my double
*hen'd spartan, lowe {Paris}, lowe the bull has the game, ware
 hornes ho?  <D {Exit Paris and Menelaus}.>
<P L4v>
 <D {Enter Bastard}>
 <S {Bast}.> Turne slave and fight.
 <S {Ther}.> What art thou?
 <S {Bast}.> A Bastard sonne of {Priams}.
*<S {Thers:}> I am a bastard too, I love bastards. I am bastard be-got,
*bastard instructed, bastard in minde, bastard in valour, in
*every thing illigitimate, one beare wil not bite another, and
*wherefore should one bastard? take heed, the quarrells
*most ominous to us, if the sonne of a whore fight for a
 whore, he tempts judgement, farewell bastard.
 <S {Bast}.> The divell take thee coward.  <D {Exit}.>
 <D {Enter Hector}.>
 <S {Hect}.> Most putrified core so faire without,
 Thy goodly armor thus hath cost thy life;
 Now is my daies worke done ile take my breth:
 Rest sword thou hast thy fill of bloud and death.
 <D {Enter Achilles and Myrmidons}.>
 <S {Achil:}> Looke {Hector} how the Sunne begins to set.
 How ougly night comes breathing at his heeles
 Even with the vaile and darkning of the Sunne,
 To close the day up, {Hectors} life is done.
 <S {Hect}.> I am unarm'd forgoe this vantage Greeke.
 <S {Achil}.> Strike fellowes strike, this is the man I seeke,
 So Illion fall thou next, come Troy sinke downe,
 Here lies thy heart, thy sinnewes and thy bone.
 On {Myrmydons}, and cry you all amaine,
 {Achilles} hath the mighty {Hector} slaine,  <D {Retreat:}>
 Harke a retire upon our Grecian part.
 <S {One:}> The Troyans trumpet sound the like my Lord.
 <S {Achil:}> The dragon wing of night orespreds the earth,
 And stickler-#like the armies separates.
 My halfe supt sword that frankly would have fedde,
 Pleas'd with this dainty baite: thus goes to bed:
 Come tie his body to my horses taile,
 Along the field I will the Troyan traile. <D {Exeunt:}>
 <D {Enter Agam: Aiax, Mene: Nestor, Diom:}
 {and the rest marching}.>
 <S {Aga}.> Hark, harke, what is this?
<P M1>
 <S {Nest}.> Peace drums.
 <S {Sould:} {within}.> {Achilles}, {Achilles}, {Hector}s slaine {Achilles}.
 <S {Dio}.> The bruite is {Hector}s slaine and by {Achilles}.
 <S {Aiax}.> If it be so yet braglesse let it bee,
 Great {Hector} was as good a man as he.
 <S {Aga}.> March patiently along: let one bee sent,
 To pray {Achilles} see us at our tent:
 If in his death the Gods have us befriended.
 Great Troy is ours, and our sharpe wars are ended.  <D {Exeunt}.>
 <D {Enter Aeneas, Paris, Antenor, Diephobus}.>
 <S {Aene}.> Stand ho? yet are we masters of the field,
 <D {Enter Troylus}.>
 <S {Troy}.> Never goe home, here starve we out the night,
 {#Hector} is slaine.
 <S {All}.> {Hector}! the gods forbid.
 <S {Troy}.> Hee's dead and at the murtherers horses taile,
 In bestly sort dragd through the shamefull field:
 Frowne on you heavens, effect your rage with speed,
 Sits gods upon your thrones, and smile at Troy.
 I say at once, let your breefe plagues be mercy,
 And linger not our sure destructions on.
 <S {Aene}.> My Lord you doe discomfort all the host.
 <S {Troy}.> You understand me not that tell me so,
 I do not speake of flight, of feare of death
 But dare all immynence that gods and men
 Addresse their daungers in. {Hector} is gone:
 Who shall tell {Priam} so or {Hecuba}?
 Let him that will a scrich-#oule aye be call'd,
 Goe into Troy and say #their {Hector}s dead,
 There is a word will {Priam} turne to stone,
 Make wells and {Niobe's} of the maides and wives:
 #Could statues of the youth and in a word,
 Scarre Troy out of it selfe, there is no more to say,
 Stay yet you proud abhominable tents:
 Thus proudly pitcht upon our Phrigian plaines,
 Let {Tytan} rise as earely as he dare,
*Ile through, and through you, and thou great siz'd coward,
 No space of earth shall sunder our two hates:
<P M1v>
 Ile haunt thee like a wicked conscience still.
 That mouldeth goblins swift as frienzes thoughts,
 Strike a free march, to Troy with comfort goe
 Hope of reveng shall hide our inward woe.
 <D {Enter Pandarus}.>
 <S {Pan}.> But #here you, #here you.
 <S {Tro:}> Hence broker, lacky ignomyny, shame,
 Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.
 <D {Exeunt all but Pandarus}.>
*<S {Pan}.> A goodly medicine for my aking bones, Oh world,
*world === thus is the poore agent despis'd, Oh traitors and
*bawds, how earnestly are you set #a worke, and how #ill re-quited,
*why should our endevour bee so lov'd and the per-formance
*so loathed, what verse for it? What instance for it?
 Let me see,
 Full merrily the humble #Bee doth sing,
 Till he hath lost his hony and his sting.
 And being once subdude in armed taile,
 Sweet hony, and sweet notes together faile.
*Good traiders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloathes,
 As many as be here of {Pandars} hall,
 Your eyes halfe out weepe out at {Pandars} fall.
 Or if you cannot weepe yet give some grones,
 Though not for me yet for my aking bones:
 Brethren and sisters of the hold-#ore trade,
 Some two monthes hence my #will shall here be made.
 It should be now, but that my feare is this,
 Some gauled goose of Winchester would hisse.
 Till then ile sweat and seeke about for eases,
 And at that time bequeath you my diseases.
 <Z {FINIS}.>