Part 28

Cre. O you immortal gods! I will not go.

Pan. Thou must.

Cre. I will not, uncle. I have forgot my father; I know no touch of consanguinity, No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me As the sweet Troylus. O you gods divine, Make Creſſid’s name the very crown of falsehood, If ever she leave Troylus! Time, force, and death, Do to this body what extremes you can, But the strong base and building of my love Is as the very centre of the earth, Drawing all things to it. I’ll go in and weep-

Pan. Do, do.

Cre. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks, Crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart, With sounding ‘Troylus.’ I will not go from Troy. Exeunt

Enter Paris, Troylus, Æneas, Diephœbus, Antenor, and Diomedes

Par. It is great morning; and the hour prefix’d For her delivery to this valiant Greek Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troylus, Tell you the lady what she is to do And haste her to the purpose.

Troy. Walk into her house. I’ll bring her to the Grecian presently; And to his hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar, and thy brother Troylus A priest, there off’ring to it his own heart. Exit

Par. I know what ’tis to love, And would, as I shall pity, I could help! Please you walk in, my lords. Exeunt

Enter Pandarus and Creſſid

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.

Cre. 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 temporize with my affections 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 Troylus

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

Cre. O Troylus! Troylus! [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!

Troy. Creſſid, I love thee in so strain’d a purity That the bless’d gods, as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me.

Cre. Have the gods envy?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay; ’tis too plain a case.

Cre. And is it true that I must go from Troy?

Troy. A hateful truth.

Cre. What, and from Troylus too?

Troy. From Troy and Troylus.

Cre. Is’t possible?

Troy. And suddenly; where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents Our lock’d 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 consign’d kisses to them, He fumbles up into a loose adieu, And scants us with a single famish’d kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears.

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

Troy. Hark! you are call’d. 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 th’ root? Exit