My matter is so rash: There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand

The lady Cressida.

Tro.

Is it so concluded?

Æne. By Priam, and the general state of Troy: They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

Tro. How my achievements mock me!
I will go meet them: and, my lord Æneas,
We met by chance; you did not find me here.

Ene. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of na

ture

Have not more gift in taciturnity.

[Exeunt Troilus and Æneas.

Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would, they had broke's neck!

Enter Cressida?

Cres. How now? What is the matter? Who was

here?

Pan. Ah, ah!

Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my

lord gone?

Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth, as

I am above!

Cres. O the gods!-what's the matter?

Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in; 'Would thou had'st ne'er been born! I knew, thou would'st be his death:-O poor gentleman!-A plague upon An

tenor!

Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, I beseech you, what's the matter?

Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor: thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus; 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it. Cres. O you immortal gods!-I will not go. Pan. Thou must.

Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity;
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus. - O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it.-- I'll go in, and weep;-
Pan. Do, do.

Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch.my praised
cheeks;

Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy.

[Exeunt.

:

SCENE III.

THE SAME. BEFORE PANDARUS' HOUSE.

Enter Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes.

Par. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd

Of her delivery to this valiant Greek

Comes fast upon:--Good my brother Troilus,

Tell you the lady what she is to do,

And haste her to the purpose.

Tro.

Walk in to her house;

I'll bring her to the Grecian presently:

And to this hand when I deliver her,

Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus

A priest, there offering to it his own heart. [Erit.

Par. I know what 'tis to love;

And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help!-
Please you, walk in, my lords.

[Ereunt.

SCENE IV.

THE SAME. A ROOM IN PANDARUS' HOUSE.

Enter Pandarus and Cressida.

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.

Cres. Why tell you me of moderation?

The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,

And violenteth in a sense as strong

As that which causeth it: How can I moderate it?

If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief;
My love admits no qualifying dross;

No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter Troilus.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes.-Ah sweet

ducks!

Cres. O Troilus! Troilus!

[Embracing him.

Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too: O heart, -as the goodly saying

15,

o heart, o heavy heart,

Why sigh'st thou without breaking?

where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy smart,
By friendship, nor by speaking.

There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse; we see it, we see it. -How now, lambs?

Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity, That the blest gods-as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities, - take thee from me. Cres. Have the gods envy?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case.

Cres. And is it true, that I must go from Troy?

Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows Even in the birth of our own labouring breath: We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one. Injurious time now, with a robber's haste, Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: As many farewels as be stars in heaven, With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them, He fumbles up into a loose adieu; And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears.

Æne. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready? Tro. Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the Genius

SO

Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die.-
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind,
or my heart will be blown up by the root!

[Exit Pandarus.

Cres. I must then to the Grecians?

Tro.

No remedy.

Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry

Greeks!

When shall we see again?

Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of heart,-

Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem is this?