AND

CRESSIDA

A

TRAGEDY.

Printed in the YEAR 1709.

Helen, Wife to Menelaus, in Love with Paris.
Andromache, Wife to Hector.

Creffida, Daughter to Calchas, in Love with

Troilus.

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, with other Attendants.

SCENE Troy and the Grecian Camp.

TROH

TRO ILUS

A N D

CRESSID A

ACTI SCENE I

SCENE Troy.

Enter Pandarus and Troilus.

TROIL V S.

ALL here my Varlet, I'll unarm again.
Why should I war without the Walls of
Troy,

That find fuch cruel Battel 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 ftrength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenefs valiant:

But I am weaker than a Woman's Tear,
Tamer than Sleep, fonder than Ignorance;
Lefs valiant than the Virgin in the Night,
And skillefs as unpractis'd Infancy.
VOL. IV.

T13

Pan.

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 needs tarry the Grinding.

Troi. Have I not tarried?

Pan. Ay, the Grinding; but you must 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 stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your Lips.

Troi. Patience her felf, what Goddefs e'er the be,
Doth leffer blench at Sufferance, than I do :
At Priam's Royal Table I do fit;

And when fair Creffid comes into my Thoughts,-
So, Traitor!When fhe comes, when he is thence
Pan. Well,

She look'd yesternight fairer than ever I faw her look,
Or Woman else.

any

Trei. I was about to tell thee, when my Heart,
As wedged with a figh, would rive in twain,
Left Hector, or my Father fhould perceive me,
I have (as when the Sun doth light a Storm)
Buried this figh, in wrinkle of a smile:

But Sorrow, that is couch'd in ferming Gladness,
Is like that Mirth Fate turns to fudden Sadness.

Pan. And her Hair were not fomewhat darker than Helen'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 it but I would fome Body had heard her talk yesterday, as I did: I will not difpraise your Sifter 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 intrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Crefid's Love. Thou answer'st, she is Fair,
Pour'ft in the open Ulcer of my Heart,

Her Eyes, her Hair, her Cheek, her Gate, her Voice,

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