HELEN, Wife to Menelaus, in Love with Paris.
ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector.

CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess.
CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas, in Love with Troilus.
ALEXANDER, Servant to Creffida.

Bay, Page to Troilus.

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, with other Attendants.
SCENE Troy and the Grecian Camp.

The Story originally written by Lollius an old Lombard Author, and fince by Chaucer.

It is alfo found in an old English Story-book of the three deftructions of Troy, from which many of the circumstances in this Play are borrow'd, they being to be found no where effe.

Troilus

Priam's Palace within the walls of Troy, but fuppofed to bave a fituation a little diftant from the rest of the City. Enter Pandarus and Troilus.

Troi.

C

ALL here my varlet, 'unarm again.

Why fhould I war without the walls of Troy,
That find fuch cruel battle here within?

Each Trojan that is mafter of his heart,
Let him to field, Troilus alas! hath none.
Pan, Will this geer ne'er be mended?

Troi, The Greeks are ftrong, and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenefs valiant

But I am weaker than a woman's tear,

Tamer than fleep, fonder than ignorance ;
Lefs valiant than the virgin in the night,

And skill-lefs as unpractis'd infancy.

Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make any farther. He that will have a cake out of the wheat, muft tarry the grinding.

Troi. Have I not tarried?

Before this Play of Troilus and Creda printed in 16c9 is a Bookfeller's preface, fhewing that first impreffion to have been before the Play had been acted, and that it was publifhed without Shakespear's knowledge from a copy that had fallen into the Bookfeller's hands. Mr. Dryden thinks this one of the firft of our Author's Plays: But on the contrary, it may be judg' from the foremention'd Preface that it was one of his laft; and the great number of obfervations, both moral and politick, (with which this piece is crowded more than any other of his) feems to confirm that opinion.

N. 2

Pan.

Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you muft tarry the boulting.
Troi, Have I not tarried?

Pan. Ay, the boulting; but you must tarry the leav'ning.
Troi. Still have I tarried.

Pan. Ay, to the leav'ning: but here's yet in the word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must flay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips.

Troi. Patience her felf, what Goddess e'er the be, Doth not lefs blench at fufferance than I do :

At Priam's royal table I do fit ;

And when fair Creffid comes into my thoughts,-
So, traitor!-when he comes? when is the thence?
Pan. Well, fhe look'd yesternight fairer than ever I faw
her look, or any woman elfe.

Troi. I was about to tell thee, when my heart
As wedg'd with a figh would rive in twain,
Left Hector or my father should perceive me
I have (as when the fun doth light a storm)
Buried this figh in wrinkle of a smile:

But forrow, that is couch'd in feeming gladness,
Is like that mirth fate turns to fudden sadness.

"Pan. An her hair were not fomewhat darker than He len's-well, go to, there were no more comparison between the women. But for my part fhe is my kinfwoman, I would not (as they term it) praise her but I would fomebody had heard her talk yefterday, as I did: I will not difpraife your fifter Caffandra's wit, but

Troi. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus

When I do tell thee, there my hopes lye drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep

They lye indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad

In Crefid's love thou answer'ft, fhe is fair;
Pour it in the open ulcer of my heart

Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gate, her voice;
Handleft in thy difcourfe-O that! her hand!

In whofe comparison, all whites are ink

Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, to th' fpirit of fenfe
Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'ft me,

As

As true thou tell'ft me, when I fay I love her :
But faying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'ft in every gafh that love hath given me,
The knife that made it.

Pan. I fpeak no more than truth.

Troi. Thou doft not speak fo much.

Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't.

Let her be as the is,

if the be fair, 'tis the better for her; an fhe be not, she has the 'mends in her own hands.

Troi. Good Pandarus; how now,

Pandarus?

Pan. I have had my labour for my travel, ill thought on of her, and ill thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.

Troi. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me? Pan. Becaufe fhe is kin to me, therefore fhe's not fo fair as Helen; an fhe were not kin to me, fhe would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I I care not an fhe were a black-a-moor, 'tis all one to me. Troi. Say I, he is not fair?

Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to ftay behind her father: let her to the Greeks, and fo I'il tell her the next time I fee her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i'th' matter.

Troi. Pandarus

Pan. Not I.

Troi, Sweet Pandarus

Pan. 'Pray you fpeak no more to me; I will leave all as I found it, and there's an end,

[Exit Pandarus. [Sound Alarum.

Troi. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude founds!

Fools on both fides. Helen muft needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this Argument,

It is too ftarv'd a fubject for my fword:

But Pandarus O Gods! how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Greffid, but by Pandarus;
And he's as teachy to be woo'd to wooe,
As he is ftubborn, chaft, against all fuit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Crefid is, what Pandar, and what we >
N 3

He

Her bed is India, there the lyes a pearl ;
Between our Ilium, and where the refides,
Let it be call'd the wild and wandring flood,
Our self the merchant, and this failing Pandar
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark,
SCENE
Enter Æneas.

[Alarum.]

II.

ne. How now, Prince Troilus? wherefore not i'th'field! Troi. Because not there; this woman's answer forts, For womanish it is to be from thence:

What news, Eneas, from the field to-day?

Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Troi. By whom, Eneas?

ne. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed,, 'tis but a fear to fcorn, Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.

[Alarum. ne. Hark, what good fport is out of town to-day? Troi. Better at home, if, would I might! were, may. are you bound thither?

But to the fport abroad

ne. In all fwift hafte.

Troi. Come, go we then together.

[Exeunte

SCENE III. Between the Palace and the City.
Enter Creffida and a Servant, named Alexander.
Cre. Who were thofe went by?

Ser. Queen Hecuba and Helen.
Cre. And whither go they?

Ser. Up to th' eastern tower,

Whofe height commands as fùbject all the vale,
To fee the fight. Heftor, whofe patience
Is, as the virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd:
He chid Andromache, and ftruck his armorer,
And like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the fun rofe, he was harness-dight,
And to the field goes he; where ev'ry flower
Did as a prophet weep what it forefaw,
In Hector's wrath...

Cre. What was his caufe of anger?

Ser. The noife goes thus; There is among the Greeks, A Lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector, They call him Ajax.

Cre