Introductory matter

1 ^note.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ Priam, king of Troy. Hector, his son. Troilus, his son. Paris, his son. Deiphobus, his son. Helenus, his son. Margarelon, a bastard son of Priam^{2 note}. Æneas [Aeneas], Trojan commander. Antenor, Trojan commander. Calchas, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks. Pandarus, uncle to Cressida. Agamemnon, the Grecian general. Menelaus, his brother. Achilles, Grecian commander. Ajax, Grecian commander. Ulysses, Grecian commander. Nestor, Grecian commander. Diomedes, Grecian commander. Patroclus, Grecian commander. Thersites, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian. Alexander, servant to Cressida^{2 note}. Servant to Troilus^{2 note} [Servant 1]. Servant to Paris [Servant 2]. Servant to Diomedes [Servant 3]. Helen, wife to Menelaus. Andromache, wife to Hector. Cassandra, daughter to Priam; a prophetess^{2 note}. Cressida, daughter to Calchas. Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants. [Servant], [Servant 3], [Myrmidon], [Boy] Scene: Troy, and the Grecian camp.

^note

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. [Footnote: ^note.

THE PROLOGUE [Footnote:
In Troy there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
The princes orgulous ^note, 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 ^note
The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,
With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.
To Tenedos they come;
And the deep-drawing barks ^note 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 ^note city,
Dardan, and Timbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien ^note,
And Antenorides ^note, with massy staples,
And corresponsive and fulfilling ^note bolts,

Sperr ^note 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 ^note middle; starting thence away ^note
To what may be digested in a play.
Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are:
Now good or bad ^note, 'tis but the chance of war. ACT I. Scene I. Troy. Before Priam's palace. ^note Enter ^note Pandarus and Troilus.

Tro.
Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again:
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
That find such cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan ^note that is master of his heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas, hath none!

Pan.
Will this gear ne'er be mended?

Tro.
The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill and to their fierceness valiant,
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep ^note, fonder than ignorance,

Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpractised infancy.

Pan.

Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no ^note farther. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must needs ^note tarry the grinding.

Tro.

Have I not tarried?

Pan.

Ay ^note, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.

Tro.

Have I not tarried?

Pan.

Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.

Tro.

Still have I tarried.

Pan.

Ay, to the leavening; but here's ^note yet in the word ‘hereafter,’ the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven ^note, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you ^note may chance to burn ^note your lips.

Tro.
Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
Doth lesser ^note blench at sufferance than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I sit; ^note
And when fair Cressid ^note comes into my thoughts,—
So, traitor!—‘When she comes!’—When is she thence ^note?

Pan.

Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. ^note

Tro.
I was about to tell thee:—when ^note my heart,
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have, as when the sun doth light a storm ^note,
Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile:

But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.

Pan.

An ^note her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's—well, go to—there were no more comparison between the women: ^note but, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her ^note: but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but—

Tro.
O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,—
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms ^note deep
They lie indrench'd ^note. I tell thee, I am mad
In Cressid's love: ^note thou answer'st ‘she is fair;’
Pour'st ^note in the open ulcer of my heart ^note
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice,
Handlest ^{note note} in thy discourse, O, that her hand, ^note
In whose comparison all whites are ink
Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit ^note of sense ^note
Hard as the palm of ploughman: ^note this thou tell'st me,
As ^note true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me

The knife that made it.

Pan.

I speak no more than truth.

Tro.

Thou dost not speak so much.

Pan.

Faith, I'll not meddle in't ^note. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an ^note she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.

Tro.

Good Pandarus, how now, ^note Pandarus!

Pan.

I have had my labour for my travail; ill-thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you ^note: gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.

Tro.

What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?

Pan.

Because she's kin ^note to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen: an ^{note note} she were not ^note kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday ^note as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? ^note I care not an ^note she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me.

Tro.

Say I she is not fair?

Pan.

I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i' ^note the matter.

Tro.

Pandarus,—

Pan.

Not I.

Tro.

Sweet Pandarus,—

Pan.

Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I found it, and there ^note an end.

Tro.
Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds!
Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument;
It is too starved a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus—O gods, how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar ^note;

And he's as tetchy ^note to be woo'd to woo
As she is stubborn-chaste ^note against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl:
Between our Ilium and where she resides ^note,
Let it be call'd the wild ^note and wandering flood,
Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar
Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark. ^noteAlarum. Enter Æneas.

Æne.
How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore not afield ^note? ^note

Tro.
Because not there: this woman's answer sorts,
For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?

Æne.
That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

Tro.
By whom, Æneas?

Æne.
Troilus, by Menelaus.

Tro.
Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum.

Æne.
Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day!

Tro.
Better at home, if ‘would I might’ were ‘may.’
But to the sport abroad: are you bound thither?

Æne.
In all swift haste.

Tro.
Come, go we then together. [Exeunt.

^note Scene II. [Footnote: The same. A street. Enter ^note Cressida and Alexander her man.

Cres.
Who were those went by?

Alex. ^note
Queen Hecuba and Helen.

Cres.
And whither go they?

Alex.
Up to the eastern tower,
Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
To see the battle ^note. Hector, whose patience
Is as ^note a virtue ^note fix'd, to-day was moved:
He chid ^note Andromache and ^note struck his armourer;
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the sun rose he was harness'd light ^note,
And to the field goes he; where every flower
Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw
In Hector's wrath.

Cres.
What was his cause of anger?

Alex.
The noise goes, this ^note: there is among the Greeks ^note
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;
They call him Ajax.

Cres.
Good; and what of him?

Alex.
They say he is a very man ^note per se,
And stands alone ^note.

Cres.

So do all men, unless they ^note are drunk, sick, or have no legs.

Alex.

This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of

their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crushed into ^note folly, his folly sauced ^note with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of it: he is melancholy without cause and merry against the hair; he hath the joints of every thing; but every thing so out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use ^note, or purblind ^note Argus, all eyes and no sight.

Cres.

But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry?

Alex.

They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and struck him down, the disdain ^note and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.

Cres.

Who comes here?

Alex.

Madam, your uncle Pandarus.

Cres.

Hector's a gallant man.

Alex.

As may be in the world, lady.

Pan.

What's that? what's that?

Cres.

Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Pan.

Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of? Good morrow, Alexander ^note. How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium ^note?

Cres.

This morning, uncle.

Pan.

What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector armed and gone ere you ^note came to Ilium ^note? Helen was not up, was she?

Cres.

Hector was gone; but Helen was not up. ^note

Pan.

E'en so: Hector was stirring early.

Cres.

That were we talking of, and of his anger.

Pan.

Was he angry?

Cres.

So he says here.

Pan.

True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there's Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too.

Cres.

What, is he angry too?

Pan.

Who, Troilus? ^note Troilus is the better man of the two.

Cres.

O Jupiter! there's no comparison.

Pan.

What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him?

Cres.

Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him.

Pan.

Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.

Cres.

Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector. ^note

Pan.

No, nor Hector ^note is not Troilus in some degrees ^note.

Cres.

'Tis just to each of them; ^note he is himself.

Pan.

Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were. ^note

Cres.

So he is.

Pan.

Condition ^note, I had gone barefoot to India.

Cres.

He is not Hector.

Pan.

Himself! no, ^note he's not himself: would a' ^note were himself! Well, the gods are above; time must friend or end: well, Troilus, well, I would my heart were in her body! No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.

Cres.

Excuse me.

Pan.

He is elder.

Cres.

Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan.

Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me another

tale, when th' other's ^note come to't. Hector shall not have his wit ^note this year.

Cres.

He shall not need it, if he have his own.

Pan.

Nor his qualities.

Cres.

No matter.

Pan.

Nor his beauty.

Cres.

'Twould not become him; his own's better.

Pan.

You have no judgement, niece: Helen herself swore th' other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour—for so 'tis, I must confess,—not brown neither,—

Cres.

No, but brown ^note.

Pan.

Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.

Cres.

To say the truth, true and not true.

Pan.

She praised his complexion above Paris ^note.

Cres.

Why, Paris hath colour enough.

Pan.

So he has.

Cres.

Then Troilus should have too much: if she praised ^note him above, his complexion is ^note higher than his; he having colour enough, and ^note the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief ^note Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose.

Pan.

I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris. ^note

Cres.

Then she's a merry Greek indeed.

Pan.

Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other day into the compassed window,—and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin,—

Cres.

Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total.

Pan.

Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within three pound, lift ^note as much as his brother Hector.

Cres.

Is he so ^note young a man and so old a lifter?

Pan.

But, to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin—

Cres.

Juno have mercy! how came it cloven?

Pan.

Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.

Cres.

O, he smiles valiantly ^note.

Pan.

Does he not?

Cres.

O yes, an ^note 'twere a cloud in autumn.

Pan.

Why, go to, then: but to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus,—

Cres.

Troilus will stand to the ^note proof, if you'll prove it so. ^note

Pan.

Troilus! why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.

Cres.

If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the shell.

Pan.

I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin; indeed, she has a marvellous ^note white hand, I must needs confess,—

Cres.

Without the rack.

Pan.

And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.

Cres.

Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.

Pan.

But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran ^note o'er.

Cres.

With mill-stones.

Pan.

And Cassandra laughed.

Cres.

But there was more ^note temperate fire under the pot ^note of her eyes: did her eyes run o'er too?

Pan.

And Hector laughed.

Cres.

At what was all this laughing?

Pan.

Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' ^note chin.

Cres.

An't ^note had been a green hair, I should have laughed too.

Pan.

They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.

Cres.

What was his answer?

Pan.

Quoth she, ‘Here's but two ^note and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.’

Cres.

This is her question.

Pan.

That's true; make no question of that. ‘Two ^note and fifty hairs,’ quoth he, ‘and one white: that white hair is my ^note father, and all the rest are his sons.’ ‘Jupiter!’ quoth she, ‘which of these hairs is Paris my husband?’ ‘The forked one,’ quoth he, ‘pluck't ^note out, and give it him.’ But there was such laughing! and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the rest so laughed, that it passed.

Cres.

So let it now; for it has ^note been a great while ^note going by. ^note

Pan.

Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on't. ^note

Cres.

So I do ^note.

Pan.

I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, an ^note 'twere a man born in April.

Cres.

And I'll spring up in his tears, an ^note 'twere a nettle against May.

Pan.

Hark! they are coming from the field: shall we stand up here, and see them as they pass toward ^note Ilium ^note? good niece, do, sweet niece Cressida.

Cres.

At your pleasure.

Pan.

Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may see most bravely: I'll tell you them all by their names as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest.

Cres.

Speak not so loud.

Pan.

That's Æneas: is not that a brave man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell ^note you: but mark Troilus; you shall see anon.

Cres.

Who's that ^note?

Pan.

That's Antenor: he has a shrewd ^note wit, I can tell you; and he's a man ^note good enough: he's one o' the soundest judgements ^note in Troy, whosoever, and a proper man of person ^note. When comes Troilus? I'll show you Troilus anon: if he see me, you shall see him ^note nod at me.

Cres.

Will he give you the nod?

Pan.

You shall see.

Cres.

If he do, the rich shall have more ^note.

Pan.

That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a fellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man, niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks! there's a countenance! is't not a brave man?

Cres.

O, a brave ^note man!

Pan.

Is a' ^note not? it does a man's ^note heart good. Look you what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do you see? look you there: there's no jesting; there's laying ^note on, take't off who will ^note, as they say: there be hacks!

Cres.

Be those with swords?

Pan.

Swords! any thing, he cares not; an ^note the devil come to him, it's all one: by God's lid, it does one's heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris.

Paris passes. ^note Look ye yonder, niece; is't not a gallant man too, is't not? Why, this is brave now. Who said he came hurt home ^note to-day? he's not hurt: why, this will do Helen's heart good now, ha! ^note Would I could see Troilus now! you shall see ^note Troilus anon.

Cres.

Who's that?

Pan.

That's Helenus: I marvel where Troilus is. That's Helenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus.

Cres.

Can Helenus fight, uncle?

Pan.

Helenus! no; yes, he'll fight indifferent well. ^note I marvel where Troilus is ^note. Hark! do you not hear the people cry ‘Troilus’? Helenus is a priest.

Cres.

What sneaking fellow comes yonder?

Pan.

Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus! there's a man, niece! Hem! Brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry!

Cres.

Peace, for shame, peace!

Pan.

Mark him; note him ^note. O brave Troilus! Look well upon him, niece; look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hacked than Hector's; and how he looks, and how he goes! O admirable youth! he never ^note saw three-and-twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way! Had I a sister were a grace, or ^note a daughter a goddess, he should take

his choice. O admirable man! ^note Paris? Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye ^note to boot.

Cres.

Here come ^note more.

Pan.

Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die i' the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone: crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece.

Cres.

There is among ^note the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.

Pan.

Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very camel.

Cres.

Well, well.

Pan.

Well, well! Why, have you any discretion? have you any eyes? do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like ^note, the spice and salt that season ^note a man?

Cres.

Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked with no date in the pie, for then the man's date is ^note out.

Pan.

You are such a woman ^note! one knows not at what ward you lie.

Cres.

Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles ^note; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you ^note, to defend all these: and at all these wards I lie, at ^note a ^note thousand watches.

Pan.

Say one of your watches.

Cres.

Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the

chiefest of them too ^note: if I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it's ^note past watching.

Pan.

You ^note are such another!

Boy.

Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.

Pan.

Where?

Boy.

At your own house; there he unarms him ^note.

Pan.

Good boy, tell him I come. [Exit Boy. ^note] I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.

Cres.

Adieu, uncle.

Pan.

I will be ^note with you, niece, by and by.

Cres.

To bring, uncle? ^note

Pan.

Ay, a token from Troilus.

Cres.
By the same token, you are a bawd. [Exit Pandarus. ^note
Words, vows, gifts ^note, tears, and love's full sacrifice,
He offers in another's enterprise:
But more in Troilus thousand fold I see
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be;
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing:
Things won are done; joy's soul lies ^note in the doing ^note:
That she beloved knows nought ^note that knows not this:
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is:
That she was never yet that ever knew
Love got ^note so sweet as when desire did sue:

^note
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach:
Achievement is ^note command; ungain'd, beseech.
Then ^note though my heart's content ^note firm love doth bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. [Exeunt. ^{note note} Scene III. [Footnote: The Grecian ^note camp. Before Agamemnon's tent. Sennet. ^note Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulysses, ^note Menelaus, with others.

Agam.
Princes ^note,
What grief hath set the ^note jaundice on ^note your cheeks?
The ample proposition that hope makes ^note
In all designs begun on earth below
Fails in the promised largeness: checks and disasters
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd,
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,
Infect ^note the sound pine and divert ^note his grain
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us
That we come short of our suppose so far
That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand;
Sith every ^note action that hath gone before,
Whereof we have record, trial did draw
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim
And that unbodied figure of the thought
That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes,

Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works ^note,
And call them shames ^note? which are indeed nought else
But the protractive trials of great Jove
To find persistive constancy in men:
The fineness of which metal is not found
In fortune's love; for then the bold and coward,
The wise and fool, the artist and unread,
The hard and soft, seem all affined and kin:
But in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Distinction with a broad ^note and powerful fan
Puffing at all winnows the light away,
And what hath mass or matter, by itself ^note
Lies rich in virtue and unmingled.

Nest.
With due observance of thy godlike ^note seat,
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply ^note
Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance ^note
Lies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth,
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
Upon her patient ^note breast, making their way
With those of nobler ^note bulk! ^note
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and anon behold
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut ^note,
Bounding between the two moist elements,
Like Perseus' horse: where's then the saucy boat,
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
Co-rivall'd greatness? either to harbour fled,
Or made a toast ^note for Neptune. Even so
Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide

In storms of fortune: for in her ray and brightness ^note
The herd hath more annoyance by the breese ^note
Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind
Makes ^note flexible the knees of knotted oaks,
And flies fled ^note under shade, why then ^note the thing of courage ^note
As roused with rage with rage doth sympathize,
And with an accent tuned ^note in selfsame key
Retorts ^note to chiding fortune.

Ulyss.
Agamemnon,
Thou great commander, nerve ^note and bone of Greece,
Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit ^note,
In whom the tempers and the minds of all
Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks.
Besides the applause and approbation
The which, [To Agamemnon ^note] most mighty for thy place and sway ^note, [To Nestor ^note]
And thou most reverend for thy ^note stretch'd-out life,
I give to both your speeches, which were such
As Agamemnon and the hand ^note of Greece
Should hold up high in brass, and such again
As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver,
Should with a bond of air ^note, strong as the axletree
On ^note which heaven rides ^note, knit all the Greekish ^note ears

To his experienced tongue, yet ^note let it please ^note both,
Thou ^note great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak.

Agam.
Speak, Prince of ^note Ithaca; and be't of ^note less ^note expect ^note
That matter needless, of importless burthen,
Divide thy lips, than ^note we are confident,
When rank Thersites opes his mastic ^note jaws,
We shall hear music, wit and oracle.

Ulyss. ^note
Troy, yet upon his ^note basis ^note, had been down,
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master,
But for these instances ^note.
The specialty of rule hath been neglected:
And, look, how many Grecian tents do stand
Hollow upon ^note this plain, so many hollow factions ^note.
When that the general is not like the ^note hive
To whom ^note the foragers shall all repair,
What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded,
The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. ^note
The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre,
Observe degree, priority and place,
Insisture ^note, course, proportion, season, form,
Office and custom, in all line of order:
And therefore is the glorious planet Sol
In noble eminence enthroned and sphered

Amidst the other ^note; whose medicinable ^note eye
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil ^note,
And posts like the commandment of a king,
Sans check to good and bad: but when the planets
In evil mixture to disorder wander,
What plagues and what portents, what mutiny,
What raging of the sea, shaking of earth,
Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors,
Divert and crack, rend and deracinate
The unity and married ^note calm of states
Quite from their fixure ^note! O, when ^note degree is shaked ^note,
Which is the ladder to ^note all high designs,
The ^note enterprise is sick! How could communities,
Degrees in schools and brotherhoods in cities,
Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,
The primogenitive ^note and due of birth,
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,
But by degree, stand in authentic place?
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets ^note
In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters
Should ^note lift their bosoms higher than the shores,
And make a sop of all this solid globe:
Strength should ^note be lord of imbecility,
And the rude son should ^note strike his father dead:
Force should ^note be right; or rather, right and wrong,
Between whose endless jar justice resides ^{note note},
Should ^note lose their ^note names, and so should ^note justice too.

Then every thing includes ^note itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite;
And appetite, an universal wolf,
So doubly seconded with will and power,
Must make perforce an universal prey,
And last eat up himself ^note. Great Agamemnon ^note,
This chaos, when degree is suffocate,
Follows the choking. ^note
And this neglection of degree it is ^note
That by a pace goes backward, with ^note a purpose
It hath to climb ^note. The general's disdain'd
By him one step below; he by the next;
That next by him beneath: so every step,
Exampled by the first pace that is sick
Of his superior, grows to an envious fever
Of pale and bloodless emulation:
And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weakness stands ^note, not in her strength.

Nest.
Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd
The fever whereof all our power is sick.

Agam.
The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses,
What is the remedy?

Ulyss.
The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns
The sinew ^note and the forehand of our host,
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
Lies mocking our designs: with him, Patroclus,
Upon a lazy bed, the livelong day
Breaks scurril jests ^note;
And with ridiculous and awkward ^note action,
Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,

He pageants us. Sometime ^note, great Agamemnon,
Thy topless ^note deputation he puts on;
And, like a strutting player, whose conceit
Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and sound
'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage ^note,
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested ^note seeming
He acts thy greatness in: and when he speaks,
'Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms unsquared ^note,
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd,
Would ^note seem ^note hyperboles. At this fusty stuff,
The large Achilles, on his press'd bed ^note lolling,
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause;
Cries ‘Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just ^note.
Now play me Nestor; hem ^note, and stroke thy beard,
As he being dress'd ^note to some oration.’
That's done; as near as the extremest ends
Of parallels, as like as ^note Vulcan and his wife:
Yet god ^note Achilles still cries ‘Excellent!
'Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night alarm.’
And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age
Must be the scene of mirth; to cough and spit,
And, with a palsy fumbling ^note on his gorget,
Shake in and out the rivet: and at ^note this sport
Sir Valour dies; cries ‘O, enough, Patroclus;
Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split ^note all
In pleasure of my spleen.’ And in this fashion,
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,

Severals and generals of grace exact ^note,
Achievements, plots, orders, preventions,
Excitements to the field or speech for truce,
Success or loss, what is or is not, serves
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes ^note.

Nest.
And in the imitation of these twain,
Who ^note, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice, many are infect.
Ajax is grown self-will'd and bears his head
In such a rein, in full as proud a place ^note
As broad ^note Achilles; keeps ^note his tent like him;
Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war
Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites,
A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint,
To match us in comparisons with dirt,
To weaken and ^note discredit our exposure,
How rank ^note soever rounded in with danger.

Ulyss.
They tax our policy and call it cowardice,
Count wisdom as no member of the war,
Forestall prescience ^note and esteem no act
But that of hand: the still and mental parts
That do contrive how many hands shall strike
When fitness calls ^note them on, and know by measure
Of their observant toil the enemies' ^note weight ^note—
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity:
They call this bed-work, mappery ^note, closet-war;
So that the ram that batters down the wall,
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise,
They place before his hand that made the engine,

Or those that with the fineness ^note of their souls
By reason guide his ^note execution.

Nest.
Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
Makes many Thetis' sons. [Tucket. ^note

Agam.
What trumpet? ^note look, Menelaus ^note.

Men.
From Troy. ^noteEnter Æneas. ^note

Agam.
What would you 'fore our tent?

Æne.
Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you?

Agam.
Even this.

Æne.
May one that is a herald and a prince
Do a fair message to his kingly ears ^note?

Agam.
With surety stronger than Achilles' ^note arm
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice
Call Agamemnon head and general.

Æne.
Fair leave and large security. How may
A stranger to those most imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals?

Agam.
How!

Æne.
Ay: ^note
I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid ^note the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phœbus: ^note
Which is that god in office, guiding ^note men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?

Agam.
This Trojan scorns us; or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.

Æne.
Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd,

As bending angels; that's their fame ^note in peace:
But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,
Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord ^note,
Nothing ^note so full of heart. But peace, Æneas,
Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips!
The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
If that the ^note praised himself bring the praise forth:
But what ^note the repining enemy commends,
That breath fame blows ^note; that praise, sole pure, ^note transcends.

Agam.
Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Æneas?

Æne.
Ay, Greek, that is my name.

Agam.
What's your affair ^note, I pray you ^note?

Æne.
Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.

Agam.
He hears nought ^note privately that comes from Troy ^note.

Æne.
Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him ^note:
I bring a trumpet to awake his ear,
To set his sense on the ^note attentive bent,
And then to speak.

Agam.
Speak frankly as the wind;
It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour:
That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake,
He tells thee so himself.

Æne.
Trumpet, blow loud ^note,
Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;
And every Greek of mettle, let him know,

What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. [Trumpet sounds. ^note
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A prince call'd Hector—Priam is his father—
Who in this ^note dull and long-continued truce
Is rusty ^note grown: he bade me take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords!
If there be one among the fair'st of Greece,
That holds his honour higher than his ease,
That seeks ^note his praise more than he fears his peril,
That knows his valour and knows not his fear,
That loves his mistress more than in confession ^note
With truant vows to her own lips he loves,
And dare ^note avow her beauty and her worth
In other arms than hers—to him this challenge.
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it,
He ^note hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek did compass ^note in his arms;
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call
Midway between your tents and walls of Troy,
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love:
If any come, Hector shall honour him;
If none, he'll say in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth
The splinter of a lance. Even so much.

Agam.
This shall be told our lovers, Lord Æneas;
If none of them have soul in such a kind,
We ^note left them all at home: but we are soldiers;
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love!
If then one is, or hath, or ^note means to be,

That one meets Hector; if none else ^note, I am ^note he.

Nest.
Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man
When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now;
But if there be not in our Grecian host ^note
One noble man ^note that hath one spark ^note of fire,
To answer for his love, tell him from me
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver
And in my vantbrace ^note put this ^note wither'd ^note brawn ^note,
And meeting him will ^note tell him that my lady
Was fairer than his grandam and as chaste
As may be in the world: his youth in flood ^note,
I'll prove this truth ^note with my three drops of blood.

Æne.
Now heavens forbid ^note such scarcity of youth ^note!

Ulyss.
Amen. ^note

Agam. ^note
Fair Lord Æneas, let me touch your hand ^note;
To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir ^note. ^note
Achilles shall have word of this intent ^note;
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent:
Yourself shall feast with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a noble foe. [Exeunt ^note all but Ulysses and Nestor. ^note

Ulyss.
Nestor!

Nest.
What says Ulysses?

Ulyss.
I have a young conception in my brain;

Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

Nest.
What is't?

Ulyss.
This 'tis ^note:
Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded pride
That hath to this maturity blown ^note up
In rank Achilles must or now be cropp'd,
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil,
To overbulk us all.

Nest.
Well, and how? ^note

Ulyss.
This challenge that the gallant Hector sends,
However it is spread in general name,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

Nest.
The purpose ^note is perspicuous even ^note as substance,
Whose grossness little characters sum up:
And, in the publication, make no strain, ^note
But that Achilles, were ^note his brain as barren
As banks of Libya,—though, Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough ^note—will, with great speed of judgement,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him ^note.

Ulyss.
And wake him to the answer, think you?

Nest.
Yes, 'tis ^note most meet: who ^note may you else oppose,
That can from Hector bring his honour ^note off,
If not Achilles? Though't be ^note a sportful combat,
Yet in this ^note trial much opinion dwells;
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
With their finest palate: and ^note trust to me, Ulysses,

Our imputation ^note shall be oddly poised
In this wild ^note action; for the success,
Although particular, shall give ^note a scantling
Of good or bad unto the general;
And in such indexes, although small pricks
To their subsequent volumes, there is seen
The baby figure of the giant mass
Of things to come at large. It is supposed
He that meets Hector issues from our choice:
And choice, being mutual act of all our souls,
Makes merit her election, and doth boil,
As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd
Out of our virtues; who miscarrying,
What heart from hence receives the ^note conquering part,
To steel ^note a strong opinion to themselves? ^note
Which entertain'd, limbs are his ^note instruments,
In no less working than are swords and bows
Directive by the limbs ^note.

Ulyss.
Give pardon to my speech;
Therefore 'tis meet ^note Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares,
And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not, ^note
The lustre of the better ^note yet to show,
Shall show the better ^note. Do not consent ^note
That ever Hector and Achilles meet;
For both our honour and our shame in this
Are dogg'd with two strange followers. ^note

Nest.
I see ^note them not with my old eyes: what are they?

Ulyss.
What glory our Achilles shares ^note from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should share ^note with him:
But he already is too insolent;
And we were ^note better parch in Afric ^note sun
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,
Should he 'scape Hector fair ^note: if he were foil'd,
Why then, we did ^note our main opinion crush
In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery;
And by device ^note let blockish Ajax draw
The sort to fight with Hector: among ^note ourselves
Give him allowance for the better ^note man;
For that will physic the great Myrmidon
Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall
His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll dress him up in voices: if he fail,
Yet go we under our opinion still
That we have better men. But, hit or miss,
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes,
Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes.

Nest.
Ulysses,
Now I begin to ^note relish thy advice ^note;
And I will give a taste of it ^note forthwith
To Agamemnon: go we to him straight.
Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone
Must tarre ^note the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone ^note. [Exeunt.

ACT II. ^note Scene I. [Footnote: The Grecian camp. ^note Enter Ajax and Thersites.

Ajax.

Thersites.

Ther.

Agamemnon—how if he had boils ^note—full, all ^noteover, generally?

Ajax.

Thersites!

Ther.

And those boils did run?—Say so,—did not the general run then ^note? were not that a botchy core ^note?

Ajax.

Dog!

Ther.

Then would ^note come some matter from him; I see none now.

Ajax.

Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Feel, then.

Ther.

The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord!

Ajax.

Speak then, thou ^note vinewed'st ^note leaven ^note, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness.

Ther.

I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con ^note an oration ^note than thou learn a prayer ^note without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain ^note o' thy ^note jade's tricks!

Ajax.

Toadstool ^note, learn me the proclamation.

Ther.

Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus?

Ajax.

The proclamation!

Ther.

Thou art proclaimed a ^note fool, I think.

Ajax.

Do not, porpentine ^note, do not; my fingers itch.

Ther.

I would thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another ^note.

Ajax.

I say, the proclamation!

Ther.

Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that thou barkest ^note at him.

Ajax.

Mistress ^note Thersites!

Ther.

Thou shouldst strike him.

Ajax.

Cobloaf ^note! ^note

Ther.

He would ^note pun ^note thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.

Ajax. ^note [Beating him ^note]

You whoreson cur!

Ther. ^note

Do, do. ^note

Ajax.

Thou stool for a witch!

Ther.

Ay, do, do; ^note thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain ^note than I have in mine ^note elbows; an assinego ^note may tutor thee: thou ^note scurvy-valiant ^note ass! thou art here but ^note

to thrash ^note Trojans; and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels ^note, thou!

Ajax.

You dog!

Ther.

You scurvy lord!

Ajax. [Beating him ^note]

You cur!

Ther.

Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel, do, do.