1 Pan. Who's there? my lord Æneas? by my troth, 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, fay you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be fworn; for my own part, I came in late: what fhould he do here? Ene. Pho!nay, then: come, come, you'll do him wrong, ere y'are aware: you'll be fo true to him, to be falfe to him: do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither, go. [As Pandarus is going out, Enter Troilus. Troi. How now? what's the matter? Ene. My lord, I fcarce have leifure to falute you, The Grecian Diomede, and our Antenor Troi. Is it concluded fo? Ene. By Priam, and the general State of Troy. 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 fecret'ft things of Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt. Enter (33) The Secrets of Nature Have not more Gift in Taciturnity.] This is the Reading of both the Elder Folio's; but the first Verse manifeftly halts, and betrays its being defective. Mr. Pope fubftitutes The Secrets of Neighbour Pandar. If This be a Reading ex fide Codicum (as he profeffes all his various Read Enter Creffida to Pandarus. Pan. Is't poffible? no fooner got, but loft: the Devil take Antenor! the young Prince will go mad: a plague upon Antenor! I would, they had broke's neck. Cre. How now? what's the matter? who was here? Pan. Ah, ah! Cre. Why figh you fo 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! Cre. O the Gods! what's the matter? Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in; would, thou hadft ne'er been born: I knew, thou would'st be his death. O poor gentleman! a plague upon Antenor! Cre. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees, I befeech you, what's the matter? Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone: thou art chang'd for Antenor; thou muft go to thy father, and be gone from Troilus: 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it. Cre. O you immortal Gods! I will not go. Pan. Thou must. Cre. I will not, uncle: I've forgot my father. I know no touch of Confanguinity: Readings to be) it is founded on the Credit of fuch Copies, as it has not been my Fortune to meet with. I have ventur❜d to make out the Verfe thus; The Secret'ft Things of Nature, &c. i.e. the Arcana Natura, the Mysteries of Nature, of occult Philofophy, or of religious Ceremonies. Our Poet has Allufions of this Sort in feveral other Paffages. Plutus himself, That knows the Tin&t and multiplying Medicine, Hath not in Nature's Mystery more Science, &c. Cats, that can judge as fitly of bis Worth, All's Well, &c. Coriolanus. There are more Things in Heav'n and Earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your Philofophy. VOL. VII. F Hamlet. No kin, no love, no blood, no foul so near me, Make Crefid's name the very Crown of falfhood, If ever the leave Troilus. Time, Force, and Death, (34) Do to this body what extreams you can ; But the strong Bafe and Building of my Love Is, as the very centre of the earth, Drawing all to it. I'll go and weep, Pan: Do, do. Cre. Tear my bright hair, and fcratch my praised cheeks, Crack my clear voice with fobs, and break my heart. SCENE, before Pandarus's House. [Exe. Enter Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes. Par. T is great morning, and the hour prefixt I Of her Delivery to this valiant Greek Troi. Walk into her house: I'll bring her to the Grecian prefently; And would, as I fhall pity, I could help! Do to this Body, &c.] The firft Folio reads, Time, orce and Death [Exeunt. When the Second Impreffion came to be publish'd, the Editors, I prefume, were at a Lofs, and fo funk the Word upon us which they could not make out. There is no Doubt, but the Poet wrote; Time, Force, and Death, i. e. The Compulfion of Fate; That, which the Latines call'd Seva Neceffitas. SCENE, SCENE, an Apartment in Pandarus's Houfe. Enter Pandarus and Creffida. E moderate, be moderate. Cre. Why tell you me of moderation? Enter Troilus. No more my grief, in fuch a precious lofs. Pan. Here, here, here he comes,-a, fweet duck!Cre. O Troilus, Troilus! Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! let me em brace too: Ob beart, (as the goodly faying is ;) O heart, O heavy heart, Why figh'st thou without breaking? where he answers again; Because thou can't not ease thy fmart, There was never a truer rhyme. Let us caft away nothing, for we may live to have need of fuch a verse; we fee it, we fee it. How now, lambs? Troi. Creffid, I love thee in fo ftrange a purity, Pan. Ay, ay, 'tis too plain a cafe. Cre. And is it true, that I must go from Troy? Cre. What, and from Troilus too? Troi. From Troy, and Troilus. Troi. And fuddenly: while injury of chance Eneas within.] My lord, is the lady ready? Troi. Hark! you are call'd. Some fay, the Genius fo Cries, come, to him that inftantly muft die. Bid them have patience; fhe fhall come anon. Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root. [Exit Pandarus. Cre. I muft then to the Grecians? Troi. No remedy. Cre. A woeful Crefid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When fhall we see again? Troi. Hear me, my love; be thou but true of heart— Cre. I true? how now? what wicked Deem is this? Troi. Nay, we must use expoftulation kindly, For it is parting from us: I fpeak not, be thou true, as fearing thee: |