Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I?

Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.

Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents; I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools. [Exit.

Patr. A good riddance.

Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through
all our host:

That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,
Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,
That hath a stomach; and such a one that dare
Maintain-I know not what; 'tis trash. Farewell.
Ajax. Farewell.
Who shall answer him?
Achil. I know not, it is put to lottery; other-
wise,

He knew his man.

Ajax. O, meaning you :-I'll go learn more

of it.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Troy. A Room in Priam's

Palace.

Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS.

Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches

spent,

Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: Deliver Helen, and all damage clse

As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed

In hot digestion of this cormorant war,

Shall be struck off:—Hector, what say you to't?

Hect. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I,

As far as toucheth my particular, yet, dread Priam,

There is no lady of more softer bowels,

More spongy to suck in the sense of fear,
More ready to cry out-Who knows what follows?
Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd

The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst.
Let Helen go:

Since the first sword was drawn about this

question,

Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes,
Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours:
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,

To guard a thing not ours; nor worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten;
What merit's in that reason which denies
The yielding of her up?

Tro.

Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king

So great as our dread father, in a scale

Of common ounces? will you with counters sum The past-proportion of his infinite?

And buckle-in a waist most fathomless

With spans and inches so diminutive

As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame!
Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at

reasons,

You are so empty of them.

father

Should not our

Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, Because your speech hath none, that tells him so? Tro. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother

priest,

You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your

reasons:

You know an enemy intends you harm;
You know a sword employ'd is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm;
Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels;
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
Or like a star dis-orb'd?—Nay, if we talk of

reason,

Let's shut our gates, and sleep: manhood and

honour

Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat their thoughts

With this cramm'd reason; reason and respect Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.

Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost

The holding.

Tro.

What's aught but as 'tis valued? Hect. But value dwells not in particular will; It holds his estimate and dignity

As well wherein 'tis precious of itself

As in the prizer; 'tis mad idolatry

To make the service greater than the god;
And the will dotes that is inclinable
To what infectiously itself affects,
Without some image of the affected merit.

Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment: how may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose? there can be no evasion

To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour: We turn not back the silks upon the merchant When we have spoil'd them: nor the remainder viands

We do not throw in unrespective same,

Because we now are full. It was thought meet, Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks: Your breath of full consent bellied his sails;

The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce, And did him service: he touch'd the ports desired;

And, for an old aunt, whom the Greeks held captive,

He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness

Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning. Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt: Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl, Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships,

And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants.

If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went,
(As you must needs, for you all cried-Go, go,)
If you'll confess he brought home noble prize,
(As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your
hands,

And cried-Inestimable !) why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate;
And do a deed that fortune never did,-
Beggar the estimation which you prized
Richer than sea and land? O theft most base;
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep!
But thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen,
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place!
Cas. [within.] Cry, Trojans, cry!

Pri.

What noise? what shriek is this?

Tro. 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice. Cas. [within.] Cry, Trojans !

Hect. It is Cassandra.

Enter CASSANDRA, raving.

Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand

eyes,

And I will fill them with prophetic tears.

Hect. Peace, sister, peace.

Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age, and wrinkled eld,

Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,
Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mass of moan to come.
Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears!
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand;
Our fire-brand brother, Paris, burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen, and a woe:
Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go.

[Exit. Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains

Of divination in our sister work

Some touches of remorse? or is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason,
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,

Can qualify the same?

Tro. Why, brother Hector, We may not think the justness of each act Such and no other than event doth form it; Nor once deject the courage of our minds Because Cassandra's mad; her brain-sick rap

tures

Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel
Which hath our several honours all engaged