Pri.
After so many hours, lives, speeches spent,
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks:
Deliver Helen, and all damage else,
As honour, loss of time, travel, expence,
Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd
In hot digestion of this cormorant war,
Shall be struck off. Hector, what say you to't?

Hect.
Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I,
As far as touches my particular, yet, dread Priam,

There is no lady of more softer bowels,
More spungy to suck in the Sense of fear,
More ready to cry out, who knows what follows?
Than Hector is. The Wound of Peace is Surety,
Surety secure; but modest Doubt is call'd
Thy beacon of the wise; the tent that searches
To th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen go.
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Ev'ry tithe soul 'mongst many thousand dismes
Hath been as dear as Helen. I mean, of ours.
If we have lost so many tenths of ours
To guard a thing not ours, not worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten;
What merit's in that reason which denies
The yielding of her up?

Troi.
Fy, fy, my brother:
Weigh you the worth and honour of a King
So great as our dread father in a scale
Of common ounces? will you with counters sum
^{5 note}
The past-proportion of his infinite?
And buckle in a waist most fathomless,
With spans and inches so diminutive
As fears and reasons? Fy, for godly shame!

Hel.
No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons,
You are so empty of them. Should not our father
Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons;
Because your speech hath none, that tells him so?

Troi.
You are for dreams and slumbers, brother Priest,
You fur your gloves with reasons. Here are your reasons.
You know, an enemy intends you harm;
You know, a sword imploy'd is perilous;

And reason flies the object of all harm.
Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels,
^{6 note}
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
Or like a star disorb'd!—Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep: manhood and honour
Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cramm'd reason; reason and respect
Make livers pale, and lustyhood deject.

Hect.
Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost
The holding.

Troi.
What is aught, but as 'tis valued?

Hect.
But value dwells not in particular will;
It holds its estimate and dignity
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself,
As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry,
To make the service greater than the God;
^{7 note}

Troi.
I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores

Of Will and Judgment; how may I avoid,
Although my Will distaste what is elected,
The wife I chuse? there can be no evasion
To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour.
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,
When we have ^{9 note}
soil'd them; nor th' remainder viands
We do not throw in ^{1 note}

Richer than sea and land? O theft most base!
That we have stoll'n what we do fear to keep!
^{4 note}
But thieves, unworthy of a thing so stoll'n,
Who in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place!

Cas. [within.]
Cry, Trojans, cry!

Pri.
What noise? what shriek is this?

Troi.
'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice.

Cas. [within.]
Cry, Trojans!

Hect.
It is Cassandra.

Previous section

Next section