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Confort with me in loud and dear petition ;
Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt
Of bloody turbulence ; and this whole night
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of Naughter.

Caf. O, 'tis true.
Heat. Ho! bid my trumpet sound.
Caf. No notes of Ially, for the heav'ns, sweet brother.
Hist. Be gone, I say: the Gods have heard me swear.

Caf. The Gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows ;
They are polluted offerings, more abhorrid
Than spotied livers in the sacrifice.

And. O! be persuaded, do not count it holy
To hurt by being juft ; it were as lawful
For us to count we give what's gain’d by thefts,
And rob in the behalt of charity.

Cas. It is the purpose that makes Nrong the vow;
But vows to every purpose must not hold :
Unarm, sweet Hector.

Heat. Hold you still, I say ;
Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate ;
Life every man holds dear, but the brave man
Holds honour far more precious dear than life.

Enter Troilus.
How now, young man; mean'st thou to fight to day?
And. Colandra, call my father to persuade.

[Exit Cassandra.
Heal. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth:
I am to day i'th' vein of chivalry :
Let grow thy finews till their knots be strong,

tempt not yet the brushes of the war,
Unarm thee, go ; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
I'll stand, to day, for thee, and me, and Troy.
Troi. Brother, you have a vice of

mercy

in you ; Which better fits a lion, than a man.

Heit. What vice is that? good Troilus, chide me for it.

Troi. When many times the captive Grecians fall,
Ev'n in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
You bid them rise, and live.

Heft. O, 'tis fair play:
Troi. Fool's play, by Heaven, Hector.

Heel

Bit by my

Hect. How now ? how now!

Troi. For love of all the Gods,
Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mothers ;
And when we have our armoưr buckled on,
The venom’d vengeance ride upon our swords,
Spur them to rueful work, rein them from ruth.

Heet. Fie, favage, fie!
Troi. Hector, thus 'tis in wars.
Hett. Troilus, I would not have you fight to day,

Troi. Who should with hold me?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire ;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,
Their e; es o'er-galled with recourse of tears;
Nor you, my brother, with your true fword drawn
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way,

ruin.

Enter Priam and Cassandra.
Caf. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold hin fait :
He is thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy Scay,
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,
Fall all together.
Priam. Hector, come, go

back:
Thy wife hath dreamt: thy mother hath had visions ,
Casandra doth foresee ; and I myself
Am, like a prophet, suddenly enrapt
To tell thee, that this day is ominous :
Therefore come back.

Hect. Æneas is a-field,
And I do fand engag'd to many Greeks,
Evin in the faith of valour, to appear
This morning to them.

Priam. But thou shalt not go.
Hect. I must not break my

faith:
You know me dutiful, therefore, dear Sir,
Let me not shame respect; but give me leave
To take that course by your consent and voice,
Which

you do here forbid me, Royal Priam.
Caf. O, Priam, yield not to him.
And. Do not, dear father.
S 2

Helt

2

Heft. Andromache, I am offended with you. Upon the love you bear me, get you in. [Exit Androm.

Troi. This foolish, dreaming, fuperftitious girl Makes all these bodements.

Caf. O farewel, dear Hector : Look, how thou dieft ; look, how thy eyes turn pale! Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents ! Hark, how Troy roars ; how Hecuba cries out; How poor Andromache shrills her dolour forth! Behold, distraction, frenzy and amazement, Like witless anticks, one another meet, And all cry, Hector, Hektor's dead ! O Heslor!

Troi. Away! -Away!

Cas. Farewel : yet, foft: Hestor, I take my leave ; Thou doft thy self and all our Troy deceive. [Exit.

Hiet. You are amaz’d, my liege, at her exclaim : Go in and cheer the town, we'll forth and fight ; Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night. Priam. Farewel : the Gods with safety stand about thee!

[Alarum. Troi They're at it, hark : proud Diomede, believe, I come to lose my arm, or win my fleeve.

Enter Pandarus.
Pand. Do you hear, my lord ? do you hear?
Troi. What now?
Pand. Here's a letter come from yond poor girl.
Troi. Let me read.

Pand. A whorson ptifick, a whorlon rascally ptifick fo troubles me; and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing and what another, that I shall leave you one o' these days; and I have a rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ach in my bones that unless a man were curft, I cannot tell what to think on't. What says she, there? Troi. Words, words, meer words ; no matter from

the heart: Th' effect doth operate another way: [Tearing the letter. Go, wind to wind; there tum and change together : My love with words and errors still the feeds ; But edifies another with her deeds. Pand. Why, but hear you

Ther. N

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Troi. Hence, brothel-lacquey ! ignominy and shame (29) Pursue thy life, and live ay with thy name ! [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Field between Troy

and the Camp.

[ Alarum) Enter Therfites. Tber. OW they are clapper-clawing one another,

I'll

go look on : that dissembling abominable varlet, Diomede, has got that same scurvy, doating, foolish

young knave's fleeve of Troy, there, in his helm : I would fain see them meet; that, that fame young Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send that Greekish whore master villain, with the sleeve, back to the difsembling luxurious drab, of a fleeveless Errant. O'th other side, (30) the policy of those crafty sneering rafcals, that ftale old mouse-eaten dry cheese Neftor, and that faine dog-fox Ulysses, is not prov'd worth a blackberry. They set me up in policy that mungril cur Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles. And now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to day whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion.

Enter Diomede and Troilus.
Soft here comes fleeve, aud t'other.

Troi. Fly not ; for should't thou take the river Stjx,

(29) Hence, brorbel, lacquey !_] In this, and the Repetition of it, towards the Close of the Play, Troilus is made absurdly to call Pandarus -bawdy-boufe ; for Brotbel fignifies nothing else that I know of: but he meant to call him an Attendant on a Bawdy-house, a Messenger of obscene Errands: a Sense which I have retriev’d, only by clapping an Hypben betwixt the two Words,

(30) O'rb'or ber Side, the Policy of ebofe crafty swearing Rascals, &c.] But in what Sense are Neftor and Uly Des accus’d of being fwearing Rascals ? What, or to Whom, did they fwear? I am positive, I have restor’d the true Reading. They had collogued with Ajax, and trim'd him up with infincere Praises, oniy in Order to have ftir'd Acbilles's Emulation. In this, they were true Sneerers ; betraying the first, to gain their Ends on the Jat:er by that Artifice.

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I would swim after.

Dio. Thou doft miscall Retire:
I do not fly; but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of niultitude ;
Have at thee!

[They go of, figbting Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian ; now for thy whore, Trojan : now the sleeve, now the sleeve, now the fleeve!

Enter Hector. Heet. What art thou, Greek! are thou for Hector's

match ? Art thou of blood and honour ?

Ther. No, no : I am a rascal; a fcurvy railing knave; a very filthy rogue. Heet. I do believe thee live.

[Exit. Ther. God o' mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague break thy neck for frightning me! What's become of the wenching rogues ? I think, they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at that miraclea fort, letchery eats it self : I'll seek them. [Exit.

Enter Diomede and Servant.
Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horfe,
Present the fair Steed to my lady Cresid:
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty :
Tell her, I have chastis’d the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.
Ser. I go, my lord,

Enter Agamemnon.
Aga. Renew, renew : the fierce Polydamas
Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelor
Hath Dorens prisoner,
And stands Colofus-wise, waving his beam
Upon the pashed coarses of the

Kings,
Epifiropus and Odius. Polyxenus is flain ;
Amphimachus and Thoas deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta'en or flain, and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd ; the dreadful Sagittary
Appals our numbers : halte we, Diomede,
To reinforcement, or we perifh all.

Enter

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