SCENE II.

ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS _standing in their tent._--ULYSSES AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, NESTOR, _and_ AJAX, _passing over the stage._

_Ulys._ Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent: Please it our general to pass strangely by him, As if he were forgot; and, princes all, Look on him with neglectful eyes and scorn: Pride must be cured by pride.

_Agam._ We'll execute your purpose, and put on A form of strangeness as we pass along; So do each prince; either salute him not, Or else disdainfully, which will shake him more Than if not looked on. I will lead the way.

_Achil._ What, comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind; I'll fight no more with Troy.

_Agam._ What says Achilles? would he aught with us?

_Nest._ Would you, my lord, aught with the general?

_Achil._ No.

_Nest._ Nothing, my lord.

_Agam._ The better.

_Menel._ How do you, how do you?

_Achil._ What, does the cuckold scorn me!

_Ajax._ How now, Patroclus?

_Achil._ Good morrow, Ajax.

_Ajax._ Ha!

_Achil._ Good morrow.

_Ajax._ Ay; and good next day too. [_Exeunt all but_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.

_Achil._ What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?

_Patro._ They pass by strangely; they were used to bow, And send their smiles before them to Achilles; To come as humbly as they used to creep To holy altars.

_Achil._ Am I poor of late? 'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune, Must fall out with men too: what the declined is, He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings but to the summer.

_Patro._ 'Tis known you are in love with Hector's sister, And therefore will not fight; and your not fighting Draws on you this contempt. I oft have told you, A woman, impudent and mannish grown, Is not more loathed than an effeminate man, In time of action: I am condemned for this: They think my little appetite to war Deads all the fire in you; but rouse yourself, And love shall from your neck unloose his folds; Or, like a dew-drop from a lion's mane, Be shaken into air.

_Achil._ Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

_Patro._ Yes, and perhaps shall gain much honour by him.

_Achil._ I see my reputation is at stake.

_Patro._ O then beware; those wounds heal ill, that men Have given themselves, because they give them deepest.

_Achil._ I'll do something; But what I know not yet.--No more; our champion.

_Re-enter_ AJAX, AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDE, _Trumpet._

_Agam._ Here art thou, daring combat, valiant Ajax. Give, with thy trumpet, a loud note to Troy, Thou noble champion, that the sounding air May pierce the ears of the great challenger, And call him hither.

_Ajax._ Trumpet, take that purse: Now crack thy lungs, and split the sounding brass; Thou blow'st for Hector. [_Trumpet sounds, and is answered from within._

_Enter_ HECTOR, ÆNEAS, _and other Trojans._

_Agam._ Yonder comes the troop.

_Æn._ [_Coming to the Greeks._] Health to the Grecian lords:--What shall be done To him that shall be vanquished? or do you purpose A victor should be known? will you, the knights Shall to the edge of all extremity Pursue each other, or shall be divided By any voice or order of the field? Hector bade ask.

_Agam._ Which way would Hector have it?

_Æn._ He cares not, he'll obey conditions.

_Achil._ 'Tis done like Hector, but securely done; A little proudly, and too much despising The knight opposed; he might have found his match.

_Æn._ If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?

_Achil._ If not Achilles, nothing.

_Æn._ Therefore Achilles; but whoe'er, know this; Great Hector knows no pride: weigh him but well, And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy. This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood, In love whereof half Hector stays at home.

_Achil._ A maiden battle? I perceive you then.

_Agam._ Go, Diomede, and stand by valiant Ajax; As you and lord Æneas shall consent, So let the fight proceed, or terminate. [_The trumpets sound on both sides, while_ ÆNEAS _and_ DIOMEDE _take their places, as Judges of the field. The Trojans and Grecians rank themselves on either side._

_Ulys._ They are opposed already. [_Fight equal at first, then_ AJAX _has_ HECTOR _at disadvantage; at last_ HECTOR _closes,_ AJAX _falls on one knee,_ HECTOR _stands over him, but strikes not, and_ AJAX _rises._

_Æn._ [_Throwing his gauntlet betwixt them._] Princes, enough; you have both shown much valour.

_Diom._ And we, as judges of the field, declare, The combat here shall cease.

_Ajax,_ I am not warm yet, let us fight again.

_Æn._ Then let it be as Hector shall determine.

_Hect._ If it be left to me, I will no more.-- Ajax, thou art my aunt Hesione's son; The obligation of our blood forbids us. But, were thy mixture Greek and Trojan so, That thou couldst say, this part is Grecian all, And this is Trojan,--hence thou shouldst not bear One Grecian limb, wherein my pointed sword Had not impression made. But heaven forbid That any drop, thou borrowest from my mother, Should e'er be drained by me: let me embrace thee, cousin. By him who thunders, thou hast sinewy arms: Hector would have them fall upon him thus:-- [_Embrace._ Thine be the honour, Ajax.

_Ajax._ I thank thee, Hector; Thou art too gentle, and too free a man. I came to kill thee, cousin, and to gain A great addition from that glorious act: But thou hast quite disarmed me.

_Hect._ I am glad; For 'tis the only way I could disarm thee.

_Ajax._ If I might in intreaty find success, I would desire to see thee at my tent.

_Diom._ 'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles; Both long to see the valiant Hector there.

_Hect._ Æneas, call my brother Troilus to me; And you two sign this friendly interview. [AGAMEMNON, _and the chief of both sides approach._

_Agam._ [_To HECT._] Worthy of arms, as welcome as to one, Who would be rid of such an enemy.-- [_To_ TROIL.] My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.

_Nest._ I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee often, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way Through ranks of Grecian youth; and I have seen thee As swift as lightning spur thy Phrygian steed, And seen thee scorning many forfeit lives, When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' th' air, Not letting it decline on prostrate foes; That I have said to all the standers-by, Lo, Jove is yonder, distributing life.

_Hect._ Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, Who hast so long walked hand in hand with time: Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.

_Ulys._ I wonder now, how yonder city stands, When we have here her base and pillar by us.

_Hect._ I know your count'nance, lord Ulysses, well. Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, Since first I saw yourself and Diomede In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.

_Achil._ Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint.

_Hect._ Is this Achilles?

_Achil._ I am Achilles.

_Hect._ Stand fair, I pr'ythee, let me look on thee.

_Achil._ Behold thy fill.

_Hect._ Nay, I have done already.

_Achil._ Thou art too brief. I will, the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.

_Hect._ O, like a book of sport, thou read'st me o'er; But there's more in me than thou understand'st.

_Achil._ Tell me, ye heavens, in which part of his body Shall I destroy him? there, or there, or there? That I may give the imagined wound a name, And make distinct the very breach, whereout Hector's great spirit flew! answer me, heavens!

_Hect._ Wert thou an oracle to tell me this, I'd not believe thee; henceforth guard thee well, I'll kill thee every where. Ye noble Grecians, pardon me this boast; His insolence draws folly from my lips; But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, Else may I never--

_Ajax._ Do not chafe thee, cousin;-- And you, Achilles, let these threats alone; You may have every day enough of Hector, If you have stomach; the general state, I fear, Can scarce intreat you to perform your boast.

_Hect._ I pray you, let us see you in the field; We have had pelting wars, since you refused The Grecian cause.

_Achil._ Do'st thou entreat me, Hector? To-morrow will I meet thee, fierce as death; To-night, all peace.

_Hect._ Thy hand upon that match.

_Agam._ First, all you Grecian princes, go with me, And entertain great Hector; afterwards, As his own leisure shall concur with yours, You may invite him to your several tents. [_Exeunt_ AGAM. HECT. MENEL. NEST. DIOM. _together._

_Troil._ My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what part of the field does Calchas lodge?

_Ulys._ At Menelaus' tent: There Diomede does feast with him to-night; Who neither looks on heaven or on earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On Cressida alone.

_Troil._ Shall I, brave lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon's tent, To bring me thither?

_Ulys._ I shall wait on you. As freely tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? had she no lovers there, Who mourn her absence?

_Troil._ O sir, to such as boasting show their scars, Reproof is due: she loved and was beloved; That's all I must impart. Lead on, my lord. [_Exeunt_ ULYSSES _and_ TROILUS.

_Achil._ [_To_ PATRO.] I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my sword I mean to cool to-morrow. Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

_Enter_ THERSITES.

_Patro._ Here comes Thersites.

_Achil._ How now, thou core of envy, Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?

_Thers._ Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, thou idol of ideot worshippers, there's a letter for thee.

_Achil._ From whence, fragment?

_Thers._ Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.

_Patro._ Well said, adversity! what makes thee so keen to-day?

_Thers._ Because a fool's my whetstone.

_Patro._ Meaning me?

_Thers._ Yes, meaning thy no meaning; pr'ythee, be silent, boy, I profit not by thy talk. Now the rotten diseases of the south, gut-gripings, ruptures, catarrhs, loads of gravel in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, and the like, take thee, and take thee again! thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou! Ah how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies, such diminutives of nature!

_Achil._ My dear Patroclus, I am quite prevented From my great purpose, bent on Hector's life. Here is a letter from my love Polyxena, Both taxing and engaging me to keep An oath that I have sworn; and will not break it To save all Greece. Let honour go or stay, There's more religion in my love than fame. [_Exeunt_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.

_Thers._ With too much blood, and too little brain, these two are running mad before the dog-days. There's Agamemnon, too, an honest fellow enough, and loves a brimmer heartily; but he has not so much brains as an old gander. But his brother Menelaus, there's a fellow! the goodly transformation of Jupiter when he loved Europa; the primitive cuckold; a vile monkey tied eternally to his brother's tail,--to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a toad, an owl, a lizard, a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny.--Hey day! Will with a Wisp, and Jack a Lanthorn!

HECTOR, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, DIOMEDE, ULYSSES, TROILUS, _going with Torches over the Stage._

_Agam._ We go wrong, we go wrong.

_Ajax._ No, yonder 'tis; there, where we see the light.

_Hect._ I trouble you.

_Ajax._ Not at all, cousin; here comes Achilles himself, to guide us.

_Enter_ ACHILLES.

_Achil._ Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all.

_Agam._ So now, brave prince of Troy, I take my leave; Ajax commands the guard to wait on you.

_Men._ Good night, my lord.

_Hect._ Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.

_Thers._ [_Aside._] Sweet, quotha! Sweet sink, sweet sewer, sweet jakes!

_Achil._ Nestor will stay; and you, lord Diomede, Keep Hector company an hour or two.

_Diom._ I cannot, sir; I have important business.

_Achil._ Enter, my lords.

_Ulys._ [_To_ TROIL.] Follow his torch: he goes to Calchas's tent. [_Exeunt_ ACHIL. HECT. AJAX, _one way;_ DIOMEDE _another; and after him_ ULYSSES _and_ TROILUS.

_Thers._ This Diomede's a false-hearted rogue, an unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he winks with one eye, than I will a serpent when he hisses. He will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers set it down for a prodigy: though I long to see Hector, I cannot forbear dogging him. They say he keeps a Trojan drab; and uses Calchas's tent, that fugitive priest of Troy, that canonical rogue of our side. I'll after him; nothing but whoring in this age; all incontinent rascals! [_Exit_ THERSITES.

_Enter_ CALCHAS _and_ CRESSIDA.

_Calch._ O, what a blessing is a virtuous child! Thou has reclaimed my mind, and calmed my passions Of anger and revenge; my love to Troy Revives within me, and my lost tiara No more disturbs my mind.

_Cres._ A virtuous conquest!

_Calch._ I have a woman's longing to return; But yet which way, without your aid, I know not.

_Cres._ Time must instruct us how.

_Calch._ You must dissemble love to Diomede still: False Diomede, bred in Ulysses' school, Can never be deceived, But by strong arts and blandishments of love. Put them in practice all; seem lost and won, And draw him on, and give him line again. This Argus then may close his hundred eyes, And leave our flight more easy.

_Cres._ How can I answer this to love and Troilus?

_Calch._ Why, 'tis for him you do it; promise largely; That ring he saw you wear, he much suspects Was given you by a lover; let him have it.

_Diom._ [_Within._] Ho, Calchas, Calchas!

_Calch._ Hark! I hear his voice. Pursue your project; doubt not the success.

_Cres._ Heaven knows, against my will; and yet my hopes, This night to meet my Troilus, while 'tis truce, Afford my mind some ease.

_Calch._ No more: retire. [_Exit_ CRESSIDA.

_Enter_ DIOMEDE: TROILUS _and_ ULYSSES _appear listening at one Door, and_ THERSITES _watching at another._

_Diom._ I came to see your daughter, worthy Calchas.

_Calch._ My lord, I'll call her to you. [_Exit_ CALCHAS.

_Ulys._ [_To_ TROIL.] Stand where the torch may not discover us.

_Enter_ CRESSIDA.

_Troil._ Cressida comes forth to him!

_Diom._ How now, my charge?

_Cres._ Now, my sweet guardian; hark, a word with you. [_Whisper._

_Troil._ Ay, so familiar!

_Diom._ Will you remember?

_Cres._ Remember? yes.

_Troil._ Heavens, what should she remember! Plague and madness!

_Ulys._ Prince, you are moved: let us depart in time, Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous; The time unlit: beseech you, let us go.

_Troil._ I pray you stay; by hell, and by hell's torments, I will not speak a word.

_Diom._ I'll hear no more: good night.

_Cres._ Nay, but you part in anger!

_Troil._ Does that grieve thee? O withered truth!

_Diom._ Farewell, cozener.

_Cres._ Indeed I am not: pray, come back again.

_Ulys._ You shake, my lord, at something: will you go? You will break out.

_Troil._ By all the gods I will not. There is, between my will and all my actions, A guard of patience: stay a little while.

_Thers._ [_aside._] How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potato-finger, tickles these together!--Put him off a little, you foolish harlot! 'twill sharpen him the more.

_Diom._ But will you then?

_Cres._ I will, as soon as e'er the war's concluded.

_Diom_ Give me some token, for the surety of it; The ring I saw you wear.

_Cres._ [_Giving it._] If you must have it.

_Troil._ The ring? nay, then, 'tis plain! O beauty, where's thy faith!

_Ulys._ You have sworn patience.

_Thers._ That's well, that's well, the pledge is given; hold her to her word, good devil, and her soul's thine, I warrant thee.

_Diom._ Whose was't?

_Cres._ By all Diana's waiting train of stars, And by herself, I will not tell you whose.

_Diom._ Why then thou lov'st him still: farewell for ever: Thou never shalt mock Diomede again.

_Cres._ You shall not go: one cannot speak a word, But straight it starts you.

_Diom._ I do not like this fooling.

_Thers._ Nor I, by Pluto: but that, which likes not you, pleases me best.

_Diom._ I shall expect your promise.

_Cres._ I'll perform it. Not a word more, good night--I hope for ever: Thus to deceive deceivers is no fraud. [_Aside._ [_Exeunt_ DIOMEDE _and_ CRESSIDA _severally._

_Ulys._ All's done, my lord.

_Troil_ Is it?

_Ulys._ Pray let us go.

_Troil._ Was Cressida here?

_Ulys._ I cannot conjure, Trojan.

_Troil._ She was not, sure! she was not; Let it not be believed, for womanhood: Think we had mothers, do not give advantage To biting satire, apt without a theme For defamation, to square all the sex By Cressid's rule; rather think this not Cressida.

_Thers._ Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?

_Troil._ This she! no, this was Diomede's Cressida. If beauty have a soul, this is not she:-- I cannot speak for rage;--that ring was mine:-- By heaven I gave it, in that point of time, When both our joys were fullest!--If he keeps it, Let dogs eat Troilus.

_Thers._ He'll tickle it for his concupy: this will be sport to see! Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore; a parrot will not do more for an almond, than he will for a commodious drab:--I would I could meet with this rogue Diomede too: I would croak like a raven to him; I would bode: it shall go hard but I'll find him out. [_Exit_ THERSITES.

_Enter_ ÆNEAS.

_Æn._ I have been seeking you this hour, my lord: Hector by this is arming him in Troy.

_Ulys._ Commend me, gallant Troilus, to your brother: Tell him, I hope he shall not need to arm; The fair Polyxena has, by a letter, Disarmed our great Achilles of his rage.

_Troil._ This I shall say to Hector.

_Ulys._ So I hope. Pray heaven Thersites have informed me true!-- [_Aside._

_Troil._ Good night, my lord; accept distracted thanks! [_Exit_ ULYSSES.

_Enter_ PANDARUS.

_Pand._ Hear ye, my lord, hear ye; I have been seeing yon poor girl. There have been old doings there, i'faith.

_Troil._ [_Aside._] Hold yet, my spirits: let him pour it in: The poison's kind: the more I drink of it, The sooner 'twill dispatch me.

_Æn._ to _Pand._ Peace, thou babbler!

_Pand._ She has been mightily made on by the Greeks: she takes most wonderfully among 'em. Achilles kissed her, and Patroclus kissed her: nay, and old Nestor put aside his grey beard, and brushed her with his whiskers. Then comes me Agamemnon with his general's staff, diving with a low bow even to the ground, and rising again, just at her lips: and after him came Ulysses, and Ajax, and Menelaus: and they so pelted her, i'faith, pitter patter, pitter patter, as thick as hail-stones. And after that, a whole rout of 'em: never was a woman in Phrygia better kissed.

_Troil._ [_Aside._] Hector said true: I find, I find it now!

_Pand._ And, last of all, comes me Diomede, so demurely: that's a notable sly rogue, I warrant him! mercy upon us, how he laid her on upon the lips! for, as I told you, she's most mightily made on among the Greeks. What, cheer up, I say, man! she has every one's good word. I think, in my conscience, she was born with a caul upon her head.

_Troil._ [_Aside._] Hell, death, confusion, how he tortures me!

_Pand._ And that rogue-priest, my brother, is so courted and treated for her sake: the young sparks do so pull him about, and haul him by the cassock: nothing but invitations to his tent, and his tent, and his tent. Nay, and one of 'em was so bold, as to ask him, if she were a virgin; and with that, the rogue, my brother, takes me up a little god in his hand, and kisses it, and swears devoutly that she was; then was I ready to burst my sides with laughing, to think what had passed betwixt you two.

_Troil._ O I can bear no more! she's falsehood all: False by both kinds; for with her mother's milk She sucked the infusion of her father's soul. She only wants an opportunity; Her soul's a whore already.

_Pand._ What, would you make a monopoly of a woman's lips? a little consolation, or so, might be allowed, one would think, in a lover's absence.

_Troil._ Hence from my sight! Let ignominy brand thy hated name; Let modest matrons at thy mention start; And blushing virgins, when they read our annals, Skip o'er the guilty page that holds thy legend, And blots the noble work.

_Pand._ O world, world: thou art an ungrateful patch of earth! Thus the poor agent is despised! he labours painfully in his calling, and trudges between parties: but when their turns are served, come out's too good for him. I am mighty melancholy. I'll e'en go home, and shut up my doors, and die o' the sullens, like an old bird in a cage! [_Exit_ PANDARUS.

_Enter_ DIOMEDE _and_ THERSITES.

_Thers._ [_Aside._] There, there he is; now let it work: now play thy part, jealousy, and twinge 'em: put 'em between thy mill-stones, and grind the rogues together.

_Diom._ My lord, I am by Ajax sent to inform you, This hour must end the truce.

_Æn._ to _Troil._ Contain yourself: Think where we are.

_Diom._ Your stay will be unsafe.

_Troil._ It may, for those I hate.

_Thers._ [_Aside._] Well said, Trojan: there's the first hit.

_Diom._ Beseech you, sir, make haste; my own affairs call me another way.

_Thers._ [_Aside._] What affairs? what affairs? demand that, dolt-head! the rogue will lose a quarrel, for want of wit to ask that question.

_Troil._ May I enquire where your affairs conduct you?

_Thers._ [_Aside._] Well said again; I beg thy pardon.

_Diom._ Oh, it concerns you not.

_Troil._ Perhaps it does.

_Diom._ You are too inquisitive: nor am I bound To satisfy an enemy's request.

_Troil._ You have a ring upon your finger, Diomede, And given you by a lady.

_Diom._ If it were, 'Twas given to one that can defend her gift.

_Thers._ [_Aside._] So, so; the boars begin to gruntle at one another: set up your bristles now, a'both sides: whet and foam, rogues.

_Troil._ You must restore it, Greek, by heaven you must; No spoil of mine shall grace a traitor's hand: And, with it, give me back the broken vows Of my false fair; which, perjured as she is, I never will resign, but with my soul.

_Diom._ Then thou, it seems, art that forsaken fool, Who, wanting merit to preserve her heart, Repines in vain to see it better placed; But know, (for now I take a pride to grieve thee) Thou art so lost a thing in her esteem, I never heard thee named, but some scorn followed: Thou wert our table-talk for laughing meals; Thy name our sportful theme for evening-walks, And intermissive hours of cooler love, When hand in hand we went.

_Troil._ Hell and furies!

_Thers._ [_Aside._] O well stung, scorpion! Now Menelaus's Greek horns are out o' doors, there's a new cuckold starts up on the Trojan side.

_Troil._ Yet this was she, ye gods, that very she, Who in my arms lay melting all the night; Who kissed and sighed, and sighed and kissed again, As if her soul flew upward to her lips, To meet mine there, and panted at the passage; Who, loth to find the breaking day, looked out, And shrunk into my bosom, there to make A little longer darkness.

_Diom._ Plagues and tortures!

_Thers._ Good, good, by Pluto! their fool's mad, to lose his harlot; and our fool's mad, that t'other fool had her first. If I sought peace now, I could tell 'em there's punk enough to satisfy 'em both: whore sufficient! but let 'em worry one another, the foolish curs; they think they never can have enough of carrion.

_Æn._ My lords, this fury is not proper here In time of truce; if either side be injured, To-morrow's sun will rise apace, and then--

_Troil._ And then! but why should I defer till then? My blood calls now, there is no truce for traitors; My vengeance rolls within my breast; it must, It will have vent,-- [_Draws._

_Diom._ Hinder us not, Æneas, My blood rides high as his; I trust thy honour, And know thou art too brave a foe to break it.-- [_Draws._

_Thers._ Now, moon! now shine, sweet moon! let them have just light enough to make their passes; and not enough to ward them.

_Æn._ [_Drawing too._] By heaven, he comes on this, who strikes the first. You both are mad; is this like gallant men, To fight at midnight; at the murderer's hour; When only guilt and rapine draw a sword? Let night enjoy her dues of soft repose; But let the sun behold the brave man's courage. And this I dare engage for Diomede,-- For though I am,--he shall not hide his head, But meet you in the very face of danger.

_Diom._ [_Putting up._] Be't so; and were it on some precipice, High as Olympus, and a sea beneath, Call when thou dar'st, just on the sharpest point I'll meet, and tumble with thee to destruction.

_Troil._ A gnawing conscience haunts not guilty men, As I'll haunt thee, to summon thee to this; Nay, shouldst thou take the Stygian lake for refuge, I'll plunge in after, through the boiling flames, To push thee hissing down the vast abyss.

_Diom._ Where shall we meet?

_Troil._ Before the tent of Calchas. Thither, through all your troops, I'll fight my way; And in the sight of perjured Cressida, Give death to her through thee.

_Diom._ 'Tis largely promised; But I disdain to answer with a boast. Be sure thou shalt be met.

_Troil._ And thou be found. [_Exeunt_ TROILUS _and_ ÆNEAS _one way;_ DIOMEDE _the other._

_Thers._ Now the furies take Æneas, for letting them sleep upon their quarrel; who knows but rest may cool their brains, and make them rise maukish to mischief upon consideration? May each of them dream he sees his cockatrice in t'other's arms; and be stabbing one another in their sleep, to remember them of their business when they wake: let them be punctual to the point of honour; and, if it were possible, let both be first at the place of execution; let neither of them have cogitation enough, to consider 'tis a whore they fight for; and let them value their lives at as little as they are worth: and lastly, let no succeeding fools take warning by them; but, in imitation of them, when a strumpet is in question, Let them beneath their feet all reason trample, And think it great to perish by example. [_Exit._