Pan. [Within.] What, are all the doors open. here?

Tro. It is your uncle.

Enter PANDARUS3.

Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking:

I shall have such a life,

Pan. How now, how now ? how go maidenheads? -Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid? Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking

uncle!

You bring me to do, and then you flout me too. Pan. To do what? to do what?-let her say what: what have I brought you to do?

Cres. Come, come; beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good,

Nor suffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia *-hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! [Knocking.

Cres. Did I not tell you?'would he were knock'd o'the head!

Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see.—

3 The hint for the following scene appears to have been suggested by Chaucer. Troilus and Cresseide, b. iii. v. 1561 ;— 'Pandare, a morowe which that commen was Unto his necè, gan her faire to grete,

And saied all this night so rained it alas!
That all my drede is, that ye, necè swete,
Have little lesir had to slepe and mete,
All night (quod he) hath rain so do me wake,
That some of us I trowe their heddis ake,
Cresseide answerde,-never the bet for you,
Foxe that ye ben, God yeve your hertè care,
God help me so, ye caused all this fare,' &c.
4 Capocchia, an Italian word for fool.

My lord, come you again into my chamber:
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
Tro. Ha, ha!

Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.[Knocking. How earnestly they knock!-pray you, come in; I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA. Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now? what's the matter?

Enter ENEAS.

Ene. Good morrow, lord, good morrow, Pan. Who's there? my Lord Æneas? By my troth, I knew you not: what news with you so early?

Ene. Is not Prince Troilus here?

Pan. Here! what should he do here?

Ene. Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny him; It doth import him much, to speak with me.

Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be sworn :-For my own part, I came in late: What should he do here?

Ene. Who!-nay, then :-Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are 'ware: you'll be so true to him, to be false to him: Do not you know of him? yet go fetch him hither; go.

As PANDARUS is going out, enter TROILUS.
Tro. How now? what's the matter?

Ene. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, My matter is so rash 5: There is at hand

5 i.e. hasty or abrupt. So in Romeo and Juliet :"It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden, Too like the lightning.'

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?

Ene. 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 meet them and, go

my

Lord Æneas,

We met by chance; you did not find me here. Ene. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature Have not more gift in taciturnity.

[Exeunt TROILUS and ENEAS. 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 hadst ne'er been born! I knew, thou would'st be his death:-O poor gentleman!-A plague upon Antenor!

:

6 So in Antony and Cleopatra :-
And mock our eyes with air.'

VOL. VII.

N N

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 I know no touch of consanguinity;

father;

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, ENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES.

Par. It is great morning1; and the hour prefix'd Of her delivery to this valiant Greek

7 Sense or feeling of relationship. So in Macbeth:—

He wants the natural touch.'

See Tempest, Act v. Sc. 1, note 3, p. 80.

:

8 i. e. the very height. So in Cymbeline :-
'My supreme crown of grief.'

See Act iii. Sc. 2, note 18, p. 389, ante.
1i. e. broad day.

It is a familiar French idiom,-C'est grand

matin.

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 his hand when I deliver her,

Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus

A priest, there offering to it his own heart. [Exit.
Par. I know what 'tis to love;

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

The same.

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

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 violenteth1 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!

1 This verb is used by Ben Jonson in The Devil is an Ass:Nor nature violenceth in both these.'

And Fuller, in his Worthies of England, Anglesea: 'His former adversaries violented any thing against him. The folio copy reads:-

The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And no less in a sense as strong

As that which causeth it.'