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SCENE IV.-A Room in PANDARUS' House.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.

Cres. Why tell you me of moderation ?

The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste

And violenteth in a sense as strong

As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it?

If I could temporise with my affection,

Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying dross;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter TROILUS.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes.-Ah, sweet ducks!

Cres. O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him. Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too: O heart,-as the goodly saying is,—

-O heart, heavy heart,

Why sigh'st thou without breaking?

where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy smart,

By friendship nor by speaking.

There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse: we see it, we see it.-How now, lambs?

Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strained a purity, That the blessed gods-as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities—take thee from me. Cres. Have the gods envy?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 't is too plain a case.

Cres. And is it true, that I must go from Troy? Tro. A hateful truth.

Cres.

What, and from Troilus too!

Is it possible?

Tro. From Troy, and Troilus.

Cres.

Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lip
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our locked embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath.
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.

Injurious time now with a robber's haste

Crams his rich thievery up he knows not how :
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,

With distinct breath and consigned kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu;

And scants us with a single famished kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears.

Ene. [Within.] My lord, is the lady ready?

Tro. Hark! you are called: some say, the
Genius so

Cries 'Come!' to him that instantly must die.
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.

Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root !

Cres. I must then to the Grecians?
Tro.

[Exit.

No remedy.

Cres. A woful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?

Tro. Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart,

Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem is

this?

Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,

For it is parting from us :

I speak not, 'be thou true,' as fearing the

For I will throw my glove to Death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart;
But, 'be thou true,' say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation; be thou true,
And I will see thee.

Cres. O, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers

As infinite as imminent! but I'll be true.

Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.

Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you?

Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,

To give thee nightly visitation.

But yet, be true.

Cres.

O heavens !-'be true,' again?

Tro. Hear why I speak it, love:

The Grecian youths are full of quality;

Their loving well composed with gift of nature,
Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise :
How novelties may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy-

Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin-
Makes me afraid.

Cres.

O heavens! you love me not.

Tro. Die I a villain then !

In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,

To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:

But I can tell that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb discoursive devil
That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.
Cres. Do you think I will?

Tro. No.

But something may be done that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.

Ene. [Within.] Nay, good my lord,—

Tro.

Come, kiss; and let us part.

Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus!

Tro.

Good brother, come you hither; And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you. Cres My lord, will you be true?

Tro. Who, I alas, it is my vice, my fault : Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.

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