Patr. Your answer, sir. Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What musick will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on." Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable creature. 8 Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself see not the bottom of it. Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ig[Exit. norance. ACT IV. SCENE I. Troy. A Street. Enter, at one side, ÆNEAS and Servant, with a Torch; at the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES, and Others, with Torches. Par. See, ho! who's that there? Dei. "Tis the lord Encas. Ene. Is the prince there in person?— Had I so good occasion to lie long, to make catlings on.] A catling signifies a small lutestring made of catgut. the more capable creature.] The more intelligent creature. As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mare of my company. Dio. That's my mind too.-Good morrow, lord Æneas. Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand: Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told-how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field. Ene. But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance, Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life, Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse. Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.What business, lord, so carly? 9 During all question -] Question means intercourse, interchange of conversation. Ene. I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not. Par. His purpose meets you;' "Twas to bring this Greek To Calchas' house; and there to render him, Ene. Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece, Par. The bitter disposition of the time That I assure you; There is no help; [Exit. Will have it so, On, lord; we'll follow you. Ene. Good morrow, all. Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,- He merits well to have her, that doth seck her His purpose meets you ;] I bring you his meaning and his orders. JOHNSON. You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins 3 Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman. Dio. She's bitter to her country: Hear me, Paris.For every false drop in her bawdy veins A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple A Trojan hath been slain; since she could speak, SCENE II. [Exeunt. The same. Court before the House of Pandarus. Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA. Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down; He shall unbolt the gates. Tro. Trouble him not; To bed, to bed: Sleep kill those pretty eyes, a flat tamed piece ;] i. e. a piece of wine out of which the spirit is all flown. 3 Both merits pois'd, &c.] The sense appears to be this: the merits of either are sunk in value, because the contest between them is only for a strumpet. Cres. Tro. 'Pr'ythee now, to bed. Good morrow then. Are you aweary of me? Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee. Cres. Night hath been too brief. Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays, As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love, With wings more momentary-swift than thought. You will catch cold, and curse me. Cres. You men will never tarry. Pr'ythee, tarry ; O foolish Cressid!-I might have still held off, one up. Pan. [Within.] What, are all the doors open here? Tro. It is your uncle. Enter PANDARUS. Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking: I shall have such a life, Pan. How now, how now? how go maidenheads? -Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid? Cres. 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 say what what have I brought you to do? Cres. Come, come; beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good, Nor suffer others. |