In the dialogue, considered as distinct from the plot, Dryden appears not to have availed himself fully of the treasures of his predecessor.  He has pitilessly retrenched the whole scene, in the 3d act, between Ulysses and Achilles, full of the purest and most admirable moral precept, expressed in the most poetical and dignified language[1].  Probably this omission arose from Dryden’s desire to simplify the plot, by leaving out the intrigues of the Grecian chiefs, and limiting the interest to the amours of Troilus and Cressida.  But he could not be insensible to the merit of this scene, though he has supplied it by one far inferior, in which Ulysses is introduced, using gross flattery to the buffoon Thersites.  In the latter part of the play, Dryden has successfully exerted his own inventive powers.  The quarrelling scene between Hector and Troilus is very impressive, and no bad imitation of that betwixt Brutus and Cassius, with which Dryden seems to have been so much charmed, and which he has repeatedly striven to emulate.  The parting of Hector and Andromache contains some affecting passages, some of which may be traced back to Homer; although the pathos, upon the whole, is far inferior to that of the noted scene in the Iliad, and destitute of the noble simplicity of the Grecian bard.

Mr Godwin has justly remarked, that the delicacy of Chaucer’s ancient tale has suffered even in the hands of Shakespeare; but in those of Dryden it has undergone a far deeper deterioration.  Whatever is coarse and naked in Shakespeare, has been dilated into ribaldry by the poet laureat of Charles the second; and the character of Pandarus, in particular, is so grossly heightened, as to disgrace even the obliging class to whom that unfortunate procurer has bequeathed his name.  So far as this play is to be considered as an alteration of Shakespeare, I fear it must be allowed, that our author has suppressed some of his finest poetry, and exaggerated some of his worst faults.

Troilus and Cressida was published in 1679.

Footnote: 
1.  I need only recall to the reader’s remembrance the following
   beautiful passage, inculcating the unabating energy necessary to
   maintain, in the race of life, the ground which has been already
   gained.

Ulys. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-siz’d monster of ingratitudes:  These scraps are good deeds past; which are devour’d As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done:  Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright:  To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.  Take the instant way; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast:  keep then the path; For emulation hath a thousand sons, That one by one pursue:  If you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter’d tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost.—­