Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him,-I humbly defire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent; and to procure fafe conduct for his perfon, of the magnanimous, and most illuftrious, fix-or-feven-times-honour'd captain-general of the of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, &c. Do this. Patr. Jove blefs great Ajax!

Ther. Hum!

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles.
Ther. Ha!

Patr. Who moft humbly defires you, to invite Hector to his tent.

Ther. Hum!

Patr. And to procure fafe conduct from Agamemnon. Ther. Agamemnon?

Patr. Ay, my lord.

Ther. Ha!

Patr. What fay you to't?

Ther. God be wi'you, with all my heart.

Patr. Your anfwer, Sir.

Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; howfoever, he fhall pay for

me ere he has me.

Patr. Your answer, fir.

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart.

Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What mufick will be in him when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not: But, I am fure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his finews to make catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him ftraight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horfe; for that's the more capable creature.

catlings]-fiddle-ftrings.

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself fee not the bottom of it.

[Exeunt Achilles, and Patroclus. Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Street in Troy.

Enter at one door Æneas, and Servant, with a torch; at another, Paris, Deiphobus. Antenor, and Diomed, &c. with torches.

Par. See, ho! who is that there?

Dei. It is the lord Æneas.

Ene. Is the prince there in perfon ?---

Had I fo good occafion to lie long,

As you, prince Paris, nought but heavenly business

Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio. That's my mind too. Good morrow, lord

Æneas.

Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand :

Witness the process of your fpeech, wherein

You told-how Diomed, a whole week by days,
Did haunt you in the field.

Ene. Health to you, valiant fir,

During all question of the gentle truce:

But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance,

As heart can think, or courage execute.

During all queftion of the gentle truce:]-This interval of converfe indulged to mutual civilities.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.

Our bloods are now in calm; and, fo long, health:
But when contention and occafion meet,

By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, purfuit, and policy.

W

Ene. And thou fhalt hunt a lion, that will fly

With his face backward. In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchifes' life,
Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in fuch a fort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dio. We fympathize:Jove, let Æneas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courfes of the fun!
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die,
With every joint a wound; and that to-morrow!
Ene. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse.
Par. This is the moft defpightful gentle greeting,
The nobleft hateful love, that e'er I heard of.—
What bufinefs, lord, fo early?

Ene. I was fent for to the king; but why, I know

X

not.

Par. His purpose meets you; 'Twas to bring this

Greek

To Calchas' houfe; and there to render him
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Creffid:
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Hafte there before us: I conftantly do think,
(Or, rather, call my thought a certain knowledge)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night;
Roufe him, and give him note of our approach,

With his face backward.]-Fighting as he retreats. * His purpoje meets you;]-I bear you his orders.

y

With the whole quality wherefore: I fear,
We fhall be much unwelcome.

Ene. That I affure you;

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,

Than Creffid borne from Troy.

Par. There is no help;

The bitter difpofition of the time

Will have it fo. On, lord; we'll follow you.

Ene. Good morrow, all.

[Exit.

Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell me true,

Even in the foul of found good-fellowship,

Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best,
Myfelf, or Menelaus ?

Dio. Both alike:

Ꮓ

He merits well to have her, that doth feek her
(Not making any fcruple of her foylure)
With fuch a hell of pain, and world of charge;
And
you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the taste of her difhonour)
With fuch a coftly lofs of wealth and friends:
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors :

b

с

Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor lefs nor more;
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your country-woman.
Dio. She's bitter to her country: Hear me, Paris,--
For
every falfe drop in her bawdy veins

Y quality wherefore:]-fubftance of this business.

a

joylure]-ftain, pollution.

(Not palating the tafe of her dishonour)]-whofe delicacy is not hurt by it. ↳ tamed piece ;]-broached veffel.

с

nor more; &c.]-than the other, but both are the heavier for having a whore's weight added to their own.

VOL. III.

G

A Gre

A Grecian's life hath funk; for every fcruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,

A Trojan hath been flain: fince she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath,
As for her Greeks and Trojans fuffer'd death.
Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Difpraise the thing that you defire to buy:
But we in filence hold this virtue well,

Troi. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. Cre. Then, fweet my lord, I'll call my uncle down; He fhall unbolt the gates.

Troi. Trouble him not;

To bed, to bed: Sleep kill those pretty eyes,
' And give as soft attachment to thy senses,
As infants' empty of all thought!

Cre. Good morrow then.

Troi. I pr'ythee now, to bed.

Cre. Are you aweary of me?

Troi. O Creffida! but that the bufy day, Wak'd by the lark, has rouz'd the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.

Cre. Night hath been too brief.

& condemn -not fell.

e kill]-clofe.

And give as foft attachment to]-and feize as foftly on.