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James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
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SCENE II. The Same. Before Calchas' Tent. Enter Diomedes.

Dio.

What are you up here, ho? speak.

Cal. [Within.]

Who calls?

Dio.

Diomed.—Calchas, I think.—Where's your daughter?

Cal. [Within.]

She comes to you.

Enter Troilus and Ulysses, at a distance; after them Thersites.

Ulyss.

Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Enter Cressida.

Tro.
Cressid comes forth to him.

Dio.
How now, my charge?

Cres.
Now, my sweet guardian!—Hark! a word with you.
[Whispers.

Tro.

Yea, so familiar!

Ulyss.
She will sing any man at first sight7 note.

-- 407 --

Ther.

And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff8 note




; she's noted.

Dio.

Will you remember?

Cres.

Remember? yes.

Dio.

Nay, but do then9 note; and let your mind be coupled with your words.

Tro.

What should she remember?

Ulyss.

List!

Cres.
Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.

Ther.

Roguery!

Dio.
Nay, then,—

Cres.
I'll tell you what:

Dio.
Pho! pho! come, tell a pin: You are forsworn* note.—

Cres.
In faith, I cannot: What would you have me do?

Ther.
A juggling trick, to be—secretly open.

Dio.
What did you swear you would bestow on me?

Cres.
I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath;

-- 408 --


Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.

Dio.
Good night.

Tro.
Hold, patience!

Ulyss.
How now, Trojan?

Cres.
Diomed,—

Dio.
No, no, good night: I'll be your fool no more.

Tro.
Thy better must.

Cres.
Hark! one word in your ear.

Tro.
O plague and madness!

Ulyss.
You are mov'd, prince; let us depart, I pray you,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly; I beseech you, go.

Tro.
Behold, I pray you!

Ulyss.
Now, good my lord, go off:
You flow to great destruction1 note





; come, my lord.

Tro.
I pr'ythee, stay.

Ulyss.
You have not patience; come.

Tro.
I pray you, stay; by hell, and all hell's torments,
I will not speak a word.

-- 409 --

Dio.
And so, good night.

Cres.
Nay, but you part in anger.

Tro.
Doth that grieve thee?
O wither'd truth!

Ulyss.
Why, how now, lord?

Tro.
By Jove,
I will be patient.

Cres.
Guardian!—why, Greek!

Dio.
Pho, pho! adieu; you palter2 note
.

Cres.
In faith, I do not; come hither once again.

Ulyss.
You shake, my lord, at something; will you go?
You will break out.

Tro.
She strokes his cheek!

Ulyss.
Come, come.

Tro.
Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word:
There is between my will and all offences
A guard of patience:—stay a little while.

Ther.

How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potatoe finger, tickles these together3 note 10Q0013! Fry, lechery, fry!

Dio.

But will you then?

Cres.
In faith, I will, la: never trust me else.

Dio.
Give me some token for the surety of it.

Cres.
I'll fetch you one.
[Exit.

Ulyss.
You have sworn patience.

Tro.
Fear me not, my lord* note;
I will not be myself, nor have cognition
Of what I feel; I am all patience.

-- 410 --

Re-enter Cressida.

Ther.
Now the pledge; now, now, now!

Cres.
Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve4 note






.

-- 411 --

Tro.
O beauty! where's thy faith?

Ulyss.
My lord,—

Tro.
I will be patient; outwardly I will.

Cres.
You look upon that sleeve; Behold it well.—
He loved me—O false wench!—Give't me again.

Dio.
Who was't?

Cres.
It is no matter, now5 note I have't again.
I will not meet with you to-morrow night:
I pr'ythee, Diomed, visit me no more.

Ther.
Now she sharpens;—Well said, whetstone.

Dio.
I shall have it6 note.

Cres.
What, this?

Dio.
Ay, that.

Cres.
O, all you gods!—O pretty pretty pledge!
Thy master now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee, and me; and sighs, and takes my glove,
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it,
As I kiss thee7 note




.—Nay, do not snatch it from me;
He, that takes that, must take my heart withal.

Dio.
I had your heart before, this follows it.

Tro.
I did swear patience.

Cres.
You shall not have it, Diomed; 'faith you shall not;
I'll give you something else.

Dio.
I will have this; Whose was it?

Cres.
'Tis no matter.

Dio.
Come, tell me whose it was.

-- 412 --

Cres.
'Twas one's that loved me better than you will.
But, now you have it, take it.

Dio.
Whose was it?

Cres.
By all Diana's waiting-women yonder8 note






,
And by herself, I will not tell you whose.

Dio.
To-morrow will I wear it on my helm;
And grieve his spirit, that dares not challenge it.

Tro.
Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on thy horn,
It should be challeng'd.

Cres.
Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past;—And yet it is not;
I will not keep my word.

Dio.
Why then, farewell;
Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.

Cres.
You shall not go:—One cannot speak a word,
But it straight starts you.

Dio.
I do not like this fooling.

Ther.

Nor I, by Pluto9 note: but that that likes not you, pleases me best.

Dio.
What, shall I come? the hour?

-- 413 --

Cres.
Ay, come:—O Jove!—
Do come:—I shall be plagu'd.

Dio.
Farewell till then.

Cres.
Good night. I pr'ythee, come.— [Exit Diomedes.
Troilus, farewell1 note





! one eye yet looks on thee;
But with my heart the other eye doth see2 note



.
Ah! poor our sex! this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind:
What error leads, must err; O then conclude,
Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude. [Exit Cressida.

Ther.
A proof of strength she could not publish more3 note,
Unless she said, My mind is now turn'd whore.

Ulyss.
All's done, my lord.

Tro.
It is.

Ulyss.
Why stay we then?

Tro.
To make a recordation to my soul

-- 414 --


Of every syllable that here was spoke.
But, if I tell how these two did co-act* note,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
An esperance so obstinately strong,
That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears4 note;
As if those organs had deceptious functions,
Created only to calumniate.
Was Cressid here?

Ulyss.
I cannot conjure, Trojan5 note.

Tro.
She was not sure.

Ulyss.
Most sure she was6 note
.

Tro.
Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.

Ulyss.
Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was here but now.

Tro.
Let it not be believ'd for womanhood7 note!
Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage
To stubborn criticks—apt, without a theme,
For depravation8 note


,—to square the general sex
By Cressid's rule: rather think this not Cressid.

Ulyss.
What hath she done, prince, that can soil our mothers?

-- 415 --

Tro.
Nothing at all, unless that this were she.

Ther.
Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?

Tro.
This she? no, this is Diomed's Cressida:
If beauty have a soul, this is not she;
If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies,
If sanctimony be the gods' delight,
If there be rule in unity itself9 note

,
This was not she. O madness of discourse,
That cause sets up with and against itself1 note!
Bi-fold authority2 note


! where reason can revolt
Without perdition, and loss assume all reason
Without revolt3 note

; this is, and is not, Cressid!
Within my soul there doth commence a fight4 note

Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate5 note

-- 416 --


Divides more wider6 note


than the sky and earth;
And yet the spacious breadth of this division
Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle
As Ariachne's broken woof, to enter7 note










.

-- 417 --


Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates;
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven:
Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself;
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and loos'd;
And with another knot, five-finger-tied8 note



,
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy reliques
Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound* note to Diomed9 note











.

Ulyss.
May worthy Troilus1 note be half attach'd

-- 418 --


With that which here his passion doth express?

Tro.
Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well
In characters as red as Mars his heart
Inflam'd with Venus: never did young man fancy
With so eternal and so fix'd a soul.
Hark, Greek;—As much as I do Cressid love,
So much by weight hate I her Diomed:
That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear on* note his helm;
Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill,
My sword should bite it2 note


: not the dreadful spout,
Which shipmen do the hurricano call3 note




Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun† note,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
in his descent, than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomed.

Ther.
He'll tickle it for his concupy4 note.

Tro.
O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false!
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,
And they'll seem glorious.

Ulyss.
O, contain yourself;
Your passion draws ears hither.

-- 419 --

Enter Æneas.

Æne.
I have been seeking you this hour, my lord:
Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy;
Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home.

Tro.
Have with you, prince:—My courteous lord adieu:—
Farewell, revolted fair!—and, Diomed,
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head5 note

!

Ulyss.
I'll bring you6 note


to the gates.

Tro.
Accept distracted thanks.
[Exeunt Troilus, Æneas, and Ulysses.

Ther.

'Would, I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like a raven; I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore: the parrot will not do more for an almond, than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery; nothing else holds fashion: A burning devil take them7 note

!

[Exit.

-- 420 --

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James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
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