|In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
|The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed,
|Have to the port of Athens sent their ships,
|Fraught with the ministers and instruments
|Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore
|Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay
|Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made
|To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures
|The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,
|With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.
|To Tenedos they come;
|And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
|Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan plains
|The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
|Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,
|Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,
|And Antenorides, with massy staples
|And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
|Sperr up the sons of Troy.
|Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
|On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,
|Sets all on hazard: and hither am I come
|A prologue arm'd, but not in confidence
|Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited
|In like conditions as our argument,
|To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
|Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,
|Beginning in the middle, starting thence away
|To what may be digested in a play.
|Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are:
|Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.