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Enter at one door Æneas, with a torch; at another, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomede; Grecians, with Torches.

PARIS.

S

EE, ho! who is that there?

Dei. It is the lord Eneas.

Ene. Is the Prince there in person?
Had I fo good occafion to lie long,

As you, Prince Paris, nought but heav'nly

Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

[business Dio. That's my mind too: good morrow, lord Æneas. Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand; Witness the process of your speech, wherein (30) You told, how Diomede a whole week, by days, Did haunt you in the field.

(30) Witness the Procefs of your Speech wherein

You told, how Diomede a whole Week by days

Did haunt You in the Field.] Allowing this Circumftance to be mere Invention in the Poet, it is a very artful Complement to Diomede, and a brave Confeffion of his Worth from the Mouth of an Enemy. Homer, in the 5th Book of his Ilias, makes Diomede rufh upon Eneas, tho he knew him protected by Apollo; and affault him four times, in fpight of that God's Interpofition.

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ἵετο δ' αιεί

I own, I have a Sufpicion, our Poet had Virgil in his Eye; and meant to copy that fine Praise which Diomede pays to Eneas's Valour, where Venulus comes from the Latines to follicit Diomede's Aid against Eneas.

Stetimus tela afpera contrà,

Contulimusq; manus: experto credite, quantus
In clypeum adfurgat, quo turbine torqueat haftam.

Eneid. xi,

Ane.

Ene. Health to you, valiant Sir,

During all question of the gentle Truce:
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and th'other Diomede 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.

Welcome to Troy

Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion that will flie (31)
With his face back.-
-In human gentleness,
-now, by Anchifes' life,
Welcome, indeed!--by Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in fuch a sort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dio. We fympathize.-Jove, let Æneas live
(If to my fword his Fate be not the Glory)
A thousand compleat courfes of the Sun:
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 most defpightful, gentle greeting;
The nobleft, hateful love, that e'er I heard of.
What business, lord, so early?

Ene. I was fent for to the King; but why, I know not.

(31) And thou shalt hunt a Lion that will fly

With his Face back in humane gentleness.] Thus Mr. Pope in his great Sagacity pointed this Paffage in his firft Edition. What Conception he had to himself of a Lion flying in human Gentleness, I won't pretend to affirm: I fuppofe, he had the Idea of as gently as a Lamb, or as what our Vulgar call an Effex Lion, a Calf. If any other Lion fly with his Face turn'd backward, it is, fighting all the way as he retreats: And in this Manner it is, Æneas profeffes that he fhall fly when he's hunted. But where then are the Symptoms of human Gentleness? My Correction of the Pointing reftores good Sense, and a proper Behaviour in Eneas. As foon as ever he has return'd Diomede's Brave, he ftops fhort and corrects himself for expreffing fo much Fury in a Time of Truce; from the fierce Soldier becomes the Courtier at once; and remembring his Enemy to be a Guest and an Ambassador, welcomes him as fuch to the Trojan Camp. - 1 made this Regulation in the Appendix to my SHAKESPEARE reftor'd, and Mr. Pope reform'd the Text from thence in his laft Edition.

Par.

Par. His purpose meets you; 'twas, to bring this

Greek

To Calchas' houfe, and there to render him.
(For the enfree'd Antenor) the fair Crefid.
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Hafte thee before. 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 the whole quality whereof; I fear,
We fhall be much unwelcome.

Ene. That affure you.

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Crefid 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.

Par. And tell me, noble Diomede; tell me true,

Ev'n in the foul of good found fellowship,
Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen moft?
My felf, or Menelaus?

Dio. Both alike.

He merits well to have her, that doth feek her,
(Not making any fcruple of her foilure,)
With fuch a hell of pain, and world of charge.
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the tafte 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 letcher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs no less nor more,
But he as he, which heavier for a whore.

[Exit.

Par. You are too bitter to your Country-woman.
Dio. She's bitter to her Country: hear me, Paris,
For ev'ry falfe drop in her baudy veins

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

A

A Trojan hath been flain. Since fhe could speak,
She hath not giv'n fo many good words breath,
As, for her, Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.
Par. Fair Diomede, you do as chapmen do,
Difpraise the thing that you defire to buy :
But we in filence hold this virtue well;
We'll not commend what we intend to fell.
Here lyes our way.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Pandarus's House.

Enter Troilus and Creffida.

EAR, trouble not your felf; 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- -fleep feal thofe pretty eyes,
And give as foft attachment to thy fenfes,
As infants empty of all thought!

Cre. Good morrow then.
Troi. I pr'ythee now, to bed.

Cre. Are you a weary of me?

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

Cre. Night hath been too brief.

Troi. Befhrew the witch! with venomous wights fhe stays,

Tedious as hell; but flies the grafps of love,

With wings more momentary-fwift than thought:
You will catch cold, and curse me.

Cre. Pr'ythee, tarry-you men will never tarry-
O foolish Crefida I might have still held off,

And then you would have tarried. Hark, there's one up.
Pan. within] What's all the doors open here?
Troi. It is your uncle.

Enter

Enter Pandarus.

Cre. A peftilence on him! now will he be mocking; I fhall have fuch a life

Pan. How now, how now? how go maiden-heads? Hear you, maid; where's my coufin Creffida?

Cre. Go hang your felf, 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?

Cre. Come, come, befhrew your heart; you'll never be good; nor fuffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha! alas, poor wretch; a poor Capocchia, (32) haft not slept to night? would he not (a naughty man) let it fleep? a bugbear take him! [One knocks. Cre. Did not I tell you?-would, he were knock'd o'th' head! -who's that at door? good uncle, go and fee. My lord, come you again into my chamber: you fmile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.

Troil. Ha, ha

Cre. Come, you are deceived, I think of no fuch thing.

How earnestly they knock

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[Exeunt.

I would not for half Troy have you seen here.

Pan. Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? how now? what's the matter?

Enter Æneas.

Ene. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

(32) A poor Chipochia,] This Word, I am afraid, has fuffer'd under the Ignorance of the Editors, for it is a Word in no living Language that I can find. Pandarus fays it to his Neice, in a jeering Sort of Tenderness, upon her having made wanton the Night with Troilus, as our Author expreffes it in his Othello. He would fay, I think, in English,--Poor Inocent! Poor Fool! haft not flept to Night? Thefe Appellations are very Well anfwer'd by the Italian Word Capocchia: for Capocchio fignifies the thick Head of a Club; and thence metaphorically, a Head of not much Brain, a Sot, Dullard, heavy Gull; un balordo, lourdaut, tête fans cervelle ; or cabeça fin- fefo, as the Spaniards express it.

Pans

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