SCENE II.
The Camp.
Alarm within. Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Menelaus, Souldiers.
Agam.
Thus far the promise of the day is fair:
Æneas rather loses ground than gains,
I saw him overlabour'd, taking breath;
And leaning on his spear, behold our Trenches
Like a fierce Lyon looking up to toyls,
Which yet he durst not leap.
Ulyss.
And therefore distant death does all the work:
The flights of whistling darts make brown the sky,
Whose clashing points strike fire, and guild the dusk:
Those that reach home, from neither host are vain,
So thick the prease; so lusty are their arms,
That death seem'd never sent with better will!
Nor was with less concernment entertain'd.
Enter Nestor.
Agam.
Now Nestor, what's the news?
Nestor.
I have descry'd,
A clow'd of dust that mounts in pillars upwards;
Expanding as it travells to our Camp,
And from the midst I heard a bursting showt,
That rent the Heavens! as if all Troy were swarm'd,
And on the wing this way.
Menel.
Let 'em come, let 'em come.
Agam.
Where's the great Achilles!]
-- 62 --
Ulyss.
Think not on Achilles:
Till Hector drag him from his Tent to fight,
(Which sure he will, for I have laid the train.)
Nest.
But young Patroclus leads his Myrmydons;
And in their front, ev'n in the face of Hector,
Resolves to dare the Trojans.
Agam.
Haste Ulysses, bid Ajax issue forth, and second him.
Ulyss.
Oh Noble General, let it not be so.
Oppose not rage, while rage is in its force;
But give it way awhile; and let it waste:
The rising deluge is not stopt with dams,
Those it orebears, and drowns the hopes of harvest.
But wisely manag'd its divided strength
Is sluc'd in channels, and securely drain'd:
First, let small parties dally with their fury.
But when their force is spent and unsupply'd
The residue with mounds may be restrain'd,
And dry-shod, we may pals the naked ford.
Enter Thersites.
Thers.
Ho, ho, ho!
Menel.
Why dost thou laugh, unseasonable fool!
Thers.
Why thou fool in season, cannot a man laugh, but thou thinkst
he makes horns at thee! Thou Prince of the Herd, what hast thou to
do with laughing! Tis the prerogative of man to laugh! Thou Risibility
without Reason: thou subject of laughter; Thou fool Royall:
Ulyss.
But tell us the occasion of thy mirth?
Thers.
Now a man asks me, I care not if I answer to my own kinde:
why the Enemies are broken into our Trenches: Fools like Menelaus
fall by thousands; yet not a humane Soul departs on either side. Troilus
and Ajax have almost beaten one anothers heads off; but are both
immortal for want of brains. Patroclus has kill'd Sarpedon; and Hector
Patroclus: So there's a towardly springing fop gone off: He might
have made a Prince one day: But now he's nipt in the very budd and
promise of a most prodigious Coxcomb.
Agam.
Bear off Patroclus body to Achilles:
Revenge will arm him now, and bring us ayd.
Th' alarm Sounds near; and shouts are driv'n upon us,
As of a crowd confus'd in their retreat.
Ulyss.
Open your Ranks, and makethese mad men way:
Then close again, to charge upon their backs:
And quite consume the Reliques of the warr.
[Exeunt all but Thersites.
Thers.
What shoales of fools one battle sweeps away!
How it purges families of younger Brothers! Highways of Robbers,
-- 63 --
and Cities of Cuckold-makers! There's nothing like a pitch'd Battle,
for these brisk Addle-heads! Your Physitian is a pretty fellow; but
his fees make him tedious; he rids not fast enough; the fools grow
upon him, and their horse bodies are poyson proof. Your Pestilence is
a quicker Remedy; but it has not the grace to make distinction; it
huddles up honest men and Rogues together. But your battle has discretion;
it picks out all the forward fools. And sowses 'em together
into Immortality.
[Shouts and alarm within.
Plague upon these drums and Trumpets! these sharp sawces of the
War, to get fools an Appetite to fighting! what do I among 'em? I
shall be mistaken for some valiant Asse, and dye a Martyr, in a wrong
Religion!
Here Grecians fly over the stage, pursued by Trojans: One Trojan turns back upon Thersites who is flying too.
Trojan.
Turn slave and fight.
Thers. turning.
What art thou!
Troj.
A Bastard Son of Priam's.
Thers.
I am a Bastard too: I love Bastards: I am Bastard in body,
Bastard in minde, Bastard in valour; in every thing illegitimate. A
Bear will not fasten upon a Bear; why should one Bastard offend another!
let us part fair, like true Sons of Whores; and have the fear
of our Mothers before our eyes.
Troj.
The Devil take thee Coward.
Exit Trojan
Thers.
Now wou'd I were either Invisible, or invulnerable? these
Gods have a fine time on't; they can see and make mischief, and never
feel it.
[Clattring of swords at both doors; he runs each way, and meets the noise.
A pox clatter you; I am compass'd in! Now wou'd I were that blockhead
Ajax for a minute: some sturdy Trojan will poach me up with a
long pole! and then the Rogues may kill one another upon free cost,
and have no body left to laugh at 'em:
Now Destruction! now Destruction!
Enter Hector and Troilus driving in the Greeks.
Hect. to Ther.
Speak what part thou fightst on!
Thers.
I fight not at all: I am for neither side.
Hect.
Thou art a Greek: art thou a match for Hector.
Art thou of blood and honour?
Thers.
No, I am a rascall: a scurvy railing knave; a very filthy
Rogue.
Hect.
I do believe thee; live.
Thers.
God a mercy, that thou wilt believe me: but the Devil
break thy neck for fighting me:
[aside.
-- 64 --
Troilus returning.
What prisoner have you there?
Hect.
A gleaning of the war: a Rogue he says.
Troil.
Dispatch him and away.
[going to kill him.
Thers.
Hold, hold: what is't no more but dispatch a man and away!
I am in no such hast: I will not dye for Greece; I hate Greece, and by
my good will wou'd nere have been born there; I was mistaken into
that Country, and betray'd by my parents to be born there. And besides
I have a mortal Enemy amongst the Grecians, one Diomede a damned
villain, and cannot dye with a safe conscience till I have first murther'd
him.
Troil.
Shew me thrt Diomede and thou shalt live.
Thers.
Come along with me and I'le conduct thee to Calchas his
Tent, where I believe he's now making warre with the Priests
daughter.
Hect.
Here we must part, our destinies divide us;
Brother and friend, farewell.
Troil.
When shall we meet?
Hect.
When the Gods please: if not, we once must part.
Look; on you hill their squander'd Troops unite;
Troil.
If I mistake not, 'tis their last Reserve:
The storm's blown ore; and those but after drops.
Hect.
I wish our Men be not too far ingag'd:
For few we are and spent; as having born
The burden of the Day: but hap what can
They shall be charg'd: Achilles must be there;
And him I seek, or death.
Divide our Troops; and take the fresher half.
Troil.
O Brother,
Hect.
No dispute of Ceremony!
These are enow for me; in faith enow:
There bodies shall not flag while I can lead;
Nor wearied limbs confess mortality,
Before those Ants that blacken all yon hill
Are crept into their Earth: Farewell.
Exit Hector.
Troil.
Farewell; come Greek:
Thers.
Now these Rival-rogues will clapperclaw one another, and
I shall have the sport on't.
Exit Troil. with Thersites.
Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.
Achil.
Which way went Hector?
Myrmyd.
Up yon sandy hill:
You may discern 'em by their smoaking track;
A wavering body working with bent hams
Against the rising, spent with painfull march,
And by loose-footing cast on heaps together.
-- 65 --
Achill.
O thou art gone! thou sweetest, best of friends;
Why did I let thee tempt the shock of war
Ere yet thy tender nerves had strung thy limbs,
And knotted into strength. Yet, though too late,
I will, I will revenge the, my Patroclus!
Nor shall thy Ghost thy Murtherer's long attend,
But thou shalt hear him calling Charon back,
Ere thou art wasted to the farther shore.
Make hast, my Soldiers: give me this days pains.
For my dead friend: strike every hand with mine,
Till Hector breathless, on the ground we lay!
Revenge is honour, the securest way.
Exit with Myrmidons.
[Enter Thersites, Troilus, Trojans.
Thers.
That's Calcha's tent.
Troil.
Then that one spot of Earth contains more falshood
Than all the Sun sees in his race beside.
That I shou'd trust the Daughter of a Priest!
Priesthood, that makes a Merchandise of Heaven!
Priesthood that sells eve'n to their prayr's and blessings!
And forces us to pay for our own cousnage!
Thers.
Nay cheats Heav'n too with entrails and with offals;
Gives it the garbidge of a Sacrifice
And keeps the best for private Luxury.
Troil.
Thou hast deserv'd thy life, for cursing Priests:
Let me embrace thee; thou art beautifull:
That back, that nose; those eyes are beautiful:
Live, thou art honest; for thou hat'st a Priest.
Thers. aside.
Farewell Trojan; if I scape with life, as I hope; and
thou art knock'd o'th head, as I hope too; I shall be the first that ever
scap'd the revenge of a Priest, after cursing him; and thou wilt not be
the last, I Prophecy that a Priest will bring to ruin.
[Exit Ther.
Troil.
Me thinks my soul is rowz'd to her last work:
Has much to do, and little time to spare.
She starts within me, like a Traveller
Who sluggishly out-slept his morning hour
And mends his pace, to reach his Inn betimes.
Noise within, follow, follow.
A Noise of Arms! the Traitor may be there:
Or else, perhaps, that conscious scene of Love,
The Tent may hold him, yet I dare not search
For oh I fear to find him in that place.
[Exit. Troilus.
Enter Calchas, Cressida.
Ceess.
Where is he? I'le be justify'd or dye.
-- 66 --
Calch.
So quickly vanish'd! he was here but now:
He must be gone to search for Diomede,
For Diomede told me, here they were to fight.
Cress.
Alas! (Calch.) you must prevent, and not complain.
Cress.
If Troilus dye, I have no share in life.
Calch.
If Diomede sink beneath the sword of Troilus,
We lose not only a Protector here,
But are debard all future means of flight.
Cressi.
What then remains!
Calch.
To interpose betimes
Betwixt their swords; or if that cannot be
To intercede for him, who shall be vanquish'd,
Fate leaves no middle course.—
Exit. Calchas.
Clashing within.
Cressi.
Ah me I hear e'm;
And fear 'tis past prevention.
Enter Diomede, retiring before Troilus, and falling as he enters.
Troil.
Now beg thy life, or dye.
Diom.
No: use thy fortune:
I loath the life, which thou canst give, or take.
Troil.
Scornst thou my mercy villain!—take thy wish.—
Cressi.
Hold, hold your hand my Lord, and hear me speak.
Troilus turns back: in which time Diomede rises: Trojans and Greeks enter, and rank themselves on both sides of their Captains.
Troil.
Did I not hear the voice of perjur'd Cressida?
Com'st thou to give the last stab to my heart?
As if the proofs of all thy former falshood
Were not enough convincing, com'st thou now
To beg my Rivals life!
Whom, oh, if any spark of truth remain'd,
Thou coud'st not thus, ev'n to my face prefer!
Cressi.
What shall I say! that you suspect me false
Has struck me dumb! but let him live my Troilus,
By all our loves, by all our past endearments
I do adjure thee spare him.
Troil.
Hell, and death!
Cressi.
If ever I had pow'r to bend your mind,
Believe me still your faithful Cressida:
And though my innocence appear like guilt,
Because I make his forfeit life my suit,
'Tis but for this, that my return to you
Wou'd be cut off for ever by his death.
My father, treated like a slave and scorn'd,
-- 67 --
My self in hated bonds a Captive held.
Troil.
Cou'd I believe thee, cou'd I think thee true
In triumph wou'd I bear thee back to Troy,
Though Greece could rally all her shatter'd troops,
And stand embatteld to oppose my way.
But, Oh, thou Syren, I will stop my ears
To thy enchanting notes; the winds shall bear
Upon their wings, thy words more light then they.
Cressi.
Alass I but dissembled love to him;
If ever he had any proof beyond
What modesty might give.—
Diom.
No! witnesse this—(the Ring shown.)
There, take her Trojan; thou deserv'st her best,
You good, kind-natur'd, well-believing fools
Are treasures to a woman.
I was a jealous, hard vexatious Lover
And doubted ev'n this pledge till full possession:
But she was honourable to her word;
And I have no just reason to complain.
Cressi.
O, unexampled, frontlesse impudence!
Troil.
Hell show me such another tortur'd wretch, as Troilus!
Diom.
Nay, grieve not: I resigne her freely up:
I'm satisfi'd: and dare engage for Cressida,
That if you have a promise of her person,
She shall be willing to come out of debt.
Cressi. [kneeling.]
My only Lord: by all those holy vows
Which if there be a pow'r above are binding,
Or, if there be a Hell below, are fearful,
May every imprecation, which your rage
Can wish on me, take place, if I am false.
Diom.
Nay, since you're so concern'd to be believ'd,
I'm sorry I have press'd my charge so far;
Be what you wou'd be thought: I can be grateful.
Troil.
Grateful! Oh torment! now hells blewest flames
Receive her quick; with all her crimes upon her.
Let her sink spotted down. Let the dark host
Make room; and point: and hisse her, as she goes.
Let the most branded Ghosts of all her Sex
Rejoyce, and cry, here comes a blacker fiend.
Let her—
Cressi.
Enough my Lord; you've said enough:
This faithlesse, perjur'd, hated Cressida,
Shall be no more, the subject of your Curses:
Some few hours hence, and grief had done your work;
But then your eyes had miss'd the Satisfaction
-- 68 --
Which thus I give you—thus—
[She stabs her self they both run to her.
Diom.
Help; save her, help.
Cressi.
Stand off; and touch me not, thou Traitor, Diomede:
But you, my only Troilus come near:
Trust me the wound which I have giv'n this breast
Is far lesse painful, then the wound you gave it.
Oh, can you yet believe, that I am true!
Troil.
This were too much, ev'n if thou hadst been false!
But, Oh, thou purest, whitest innocence,
(For such I know thee now) too late I know it!
May all my curses, and ten thousand more
Heavier than they, fall back upon my head,
Pelion and Ossa from the Gyants graves,
Be torn by some avenging Deity,
And hurld at me, a bolder wretch then they,
Who durst invade the Skys!
Cressi.
Hear him not Heavens!
But hear me bless him with my latest breath:
And since I question not your hard decree,
That doom'd my days unfortunate and few,
Add all to him, you take away from me;
And I dye happy that he thinks me true.
[Dyes.
Troil.
She's gone for ever, and she blest me dying!
Cou'd she have curs'd me worse! she dy'd for me;
And like a woman, I lament for her:
Distraction pulls me several ways at once,
Here pity calls me to weep out my eyes;
Despair then turns me back upon my self,
And bids me seek no more, but finish here:
[Sword to his breast.
Ha, smilst thou Traitor, thou instruct'st me best,
And turn'st my just revenge to punish thee.
Diom.
Thy worst, for mine has been before hand with thee,
I triumph in thy vain credulity,
Which levels thy despairing state to mine:
But yet thy folly to believe a foe;
Makes thine the sharper, and more shamefull loss.
Troil.
By my few moments of remaining life;
I did not hope for any future joy,
But thou hast given me pleasure ere I dye:
To punish such a Villain.—Fight a part.
[To his Souldiers.
For Heaven and hell have mark'd him out for me,
And I shou'd grudg ev'n his least drop of blood,
To any other hand.—
-- 69 --
[Troilus and Diomede fight, and both parties engage at the
same time: The Trojans make the Greeks retire, and Troilus
makes Diomede give ground and hurts him, Trumpets sound,
Achilles Enters with his Myrmidons, on the backs of the Trojans,
who fight in a Ring encompass'd round: Troilus singling Diomede
gets him down and kills him: and Achilles kills Troilus
upon him. All the Trojans dye upon the place, Troilus last.
Enter Agamemnon, Menelaus, Ulisses, Nestor, Ajax, and Attendants.
Achill.
Our toyls are done, and those aspiring Walls
(The work of Gods, and almost mateing Heaven,)
Must crumble into rubbish on the plain.
Agam.
When mighty Hector fell beneath thy Sword,
Their Old foundations shook, their nodding Towers
Threatned from high, the amaz'd Inhabitants:
And Guardian Gods for fear forsook their fanes.
Achill.
Patroclus, now be quiet: Hectors dead:
And as a second offring to thy Ghost,
Lyes Troilus high upon a heap of slain:
And noble Diomede beneath; whose death
This hand of mine reveng'd.
Ajax.
Reveng'd it basely.
For Troilus fell by multitudes opprest;
And so fell Hector, but 'tis vain to talk.
Ulyss.
Hayl Agamemnon! truly Victor now!
While secret envy, and while open pride,
Among thy factious Nobles discord threw;
While publique good was urg'd for private ends,
And those thought Patriots, who disturb'd it most;
Then like the headstrong horses of the Sun,
That light which shou'd have cheer'd the World, consum'd it:
Now peacefull order has resum'd the reynes,
Old time looks young, and Nature seems renew'd:
Then, since from homebred Factions ruine springs,
Let Subjects learn obedience to their Kings.
[Exeunt Omnes,
-- --
The Epilogue. Spoken by Thersites.
These cruel Critiques put me into passion;
For in their lowring looks I reade damnation:
Ye expect a Satyr, and I seldom fail,
When I'm first beaten, 'tis my part to rail.
You British fools, of the Old Trojan stock,
That stand so thick one cannot miss the flock,
Poets have cause to dread a keeping Pit,
When Womens Cullyes come to judge of Wit.
As we strow Rats-bane when we vermine fear,
'Twere worth our cost to scatter fool-bane here.
And after all our judging Fops were serv'd,
Dull Poets too shou'd have a dose reserv'd,
Such Reprobates, as past all sence of shaming
Write on, and nere are satisfy'd with damning,
Next, those, to whom the Stage does not belong
Such whose Vocation onely is to Song;
At most to Prologue, when for want of time
Poets take in for Journywork in Rhime.
But I want curses for those mighty shoales,
Of scribling Chlorisses, and Phillis fools,
Those Ophs shou'd be restraind, during their lives,
From Pen and Ink, as Madmen are from knives:
I cou'd rayl on, but 'twere a task as vain
As Preaching truth at Rome, or wit in Spain,
Yet to huff out our Play was worth my trying,
John Lilbourn scap'd his Judges by defying:
If guilty, yet I'm sure oth' Churches blessing,
By suffering for the Plot, without confessing.
