Troi. I pr'ythee now, to bed. Cre. Are you a weary of me? Troi. O Creffida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, has rouz'd the ribald crows, Cre. Night hath been too brief. [ftays, Troi. Befhrew the witch! with venomous wights the 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 tarryO foolish Crefida-I might have ftill 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 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 Crefida? Cre. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle: You bring me to do and then you flout me too. Pan. To do what? to do what? let her fay what: What have 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 Capecchio ;(32) haft not flept to-night? would he not (a naughty man) let it fleep? a bugbear take him! [One knocks. (32) A poor Chipochia,] This word, I am afraid, has suffer'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 niece, in a jeering fort 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 Englife-Poor innocent! poor fool! ba'ft not slept to night? These appellations are very well answer'd by the Italian word Capocchio: for Capocchio fignifies the thick head of a club; and thence metaphorically, a head of not much brain, a fot, dullard, heavy gull; un balordo, lordauty tête fans cervelle; or carbeça fin fefo, as the Spaniards express it. 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. Troi. Ha, ha Cre. Come, you are deceived, I think of no fuch thing. How earnestly they knock-pray you, come in. [ Knock. I would not for half Troy have feen you here. [Exeunt. l'an. Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? how now? what's the matter? Enter Eneas. Ene. Good morrow, Lord, good morrow. Pan Who's there? my Lord Æneas? by my troth, I knew you not; what news with you fo early? Ene. Is not Prince Troilus here? Pan. Here! what should he do here? Ene Come, he is here, my Lord. do not deny him. It doth import him much to fpeak with me. Pan. Is he here, fay you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be worn 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 false 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, My matter is fo rafh: there is at hand Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, The Grecian Diomede, and our Antenor We must give up to Diomedes' hand Troi. Is it concluded fo? Ene. By Priam, and the general state of Troy. They are at hand, and ready to effect it. Troi. How my atchievements mock me! 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 nature (33) Have not more gift in taciturnity. Enter Creffida to Pandarus. [Exeunt. Pan. Is't poflible? 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? Cre. Why figh you fo profoundly? where's my Lord? gone! tell me, fweet 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 hadst ne'er been born: I knew, thou wouldst be his death. O poor gentleman! a plague upon antenor ! Have not more gift in taciturnity.] This is the reading of both: the elder folio's; but the first verfe manifeftly halts, and betrays its being defective. Mr. Pope fubftitutes The fecrets of neighbour Pandar. If this be a reading ex fide codicum (as he profeffes all his various 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: verse thus ; The fecret'ft things of nature, &c. i e. the Arcana Natura, the myfteris of Nature, of occult philosophy, or of religious ceremonies. Our Poet has allufions of this fort in feveral other paffages. Plutus him felf, That knows the tinct and mul plying medicine, Hath not in Nature's mystery more fcience, &c. All's Well, &c. Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth, Will not have Earth to know. Coriolanus There are more things in Heav'n and Earth, Horatio, Hamlet. S 6 Cre. Cre. Good uncle, I befeech 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 must go to thy fa ther, 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. Cre. I will not, uncle: I've forgot my father. No kin, no love, no blood, no foul fo near me, If ever the leave Troilus. Time, Force, and Death, (34) But the ftrong base and building of my love Drawing all to it. I'll go and weep, Pan. Do, do. [cheeks, Cre. Tear my bright hair, and fcratch my praised Crack my clear voice with fobs, and break my heart With founding Troilus. I'll not go from Troy. [Exeunt. SCENE, before Pandarus's House. Enter Paris, Troilus, Eneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes. Par. T T is great morning, and the hour prefixt IT Comes faft upon us: good my brother Troilus, (34) -Time and Death Do to this body, &c.] The firft folio reads, Time, orce and Death. When the fecond 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 Latins call'd fæva neceffitas. Tell Tell you the Lady what she is to do, Troil. Walk into her house: I'll bring her to the Grecian presently; And would, as I fhall pity, I could help! you, [Exeunt. SCENE, an Apartment in Pandarus's House. Pan, Enter Pandarus and Creffida. E moderate, be moderate. BE Cre. Why tell you me of moderation ? Enter Troilus. No more my grief, in fuch a precious lofs. Cre. O Troilus, Troilus! a, fweet duck!— [brace too: Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! let me em O heart, (as the goodly faying is;) O heart, O heavy heart, Why figh'ft thou without breaking? where he answers again; Because thou canst not ease thy smart, 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, That |