Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit
Is ‘plain and true’; there’s all the reach of it.
Welcome, Sir Diomed! Here is the lady
Which for Antenor we deliver you;
At the port, lord, I’ll give her to thy hand,
And by the way possess thee what she is.
Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek,
If e’er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Creſſid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Ilion.
_Diom_. Fair Lady Creſſid,
So please you, save the thanks this prince expects.
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,
Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
_Troy_. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously
To shame the zeal of my petition to the
In praising her. I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She is as far high-soaring o’er thy praises
As thou unworthy to be call’d her servant.
I charge thee use her well, even for my charge;
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
I’ll cut thy throat.
_Diom_. O, be not mov’d, Prince Troylus.
Let me be privileg’d by my place and message
To be a speaker free: when I am hence
I’ll answer to my lust. And know you, lord,
I’ll nothing do on charge: to her own worth
She shall be priz’d. But that you say ‘Be’t so,’
I speak it in my spirit and honour, ‘No.’
_Troy_. Come, to the port. I’ll tell thee, Diomed,
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.
Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
Exeunt Troylus, _Creſſid_, and Diomedes
[Sound
trumpet]
_Par_. Hark! Hector’s trumpet.
_Æne_. How have we spent this morning!
The Prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him to the field.
_Par_. ’Tis Troylus’ fault. Come, come to field with him.
_Dieph_. Let us make ready straight.
_Æne_. Yea, with a bridegroom’s fresh alacrity
Let us address to tend on Hector’s heels.
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
On his fair worth and single chivalry.
Exeunt
Enter Aiax, armed; Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, Menelaus, Vlyſſes,
Nestor, and others
_Agam_. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,
Anticipating time with starting courage.
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Aiax, that the appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant,
And hale him hither.
_Aiax_. Thou, trumpet, there’s my purse.
Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe;
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek
Out-swell the colic of puff Aquilon’d.
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood:
Thou blowest for Hector. [Trumpet sounds]
_Vlyſ_. No trumpet answers.
_Achil_. ’Tis but early days.