SCENE IV.
Enter Pandarus.
Cre.
Who comes here?
Ser.
Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Cre.
Hector's a gallant man.
Ser.
As may be in the world, lady.
Pan.
What's that? what's that?
Cre.
Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
Pan.
Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of?† note
how do you, cousin? when were you at Ilium?
Cre.
This morning, uncle.
Pan.
What were you talking of, when I came? was Hector
arm'd and gone, ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up? was she?
Cre.
Hector was gone, but Helen was not up.
Pan.
E'en so; Hector was stirring early.
-- 13 --
Cre.
That were we talking of, and of his anger.
Pan.
Was he angry?
Cre.
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.
Cre.
What, is he angry too?
Pan.
Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.
Cre.
Oh Jupiter, there's no comparison.
Pan.
What not between Troilus and Hector? do you know a
man if you see him?
Cre.
Ay, if I ever saw him before, and knew him.
Pan.
Well I say Troilus is Troilus.
Cre.
Then you say, as I say, for I am sure he is not Hector.
Pan.
No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees.
Cre.
'Tis just to each of them, he is himself.
Pan.
Himself? alas poor Troilus! I would he were.
Cre.
So he is.
Pan.
Condition I had gone bare-foot to India.
Cre.
He is not Hector.
Pan.
Himself? no, he's not himself, would he 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.
Cre.
Excuse me.
Pan.
He is elder.
Cre.
Pardon me, pardon me.
Pan.
Th' other's not come to't, you shall tell me another
tale when th' other's come to't: Hector shall not have his wit
this year.
Cre.
He shall not need it, if he have his own,
Pan.
Nor his Qualities.
-- 14 --
Cre.
No matter.
Pan.
Nor his beauty.
Cre.
'Twould not become him, his own's better.
Pan.
You have no judgement, neice; Helen her self swore
th' other day, that Troilus for a brown favour, (for so 'tis I must
confess) not brown neither—
Cre.
No but brown.
Pan.
Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
Cre.
To say the truth, true and not true.
Pan.
She prais'd his complexion above Paris.
Cre.
Why Paris hath colour enough.
Pan.
So he has.
Cre.
Then Troilus should have too much; if she prais'd him above,
his complexion is higher than his, he having colour enough,
and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good
complexion. I had as lieve Helen's golden tongue had commended
Troilus for a copper nose.
Pan.
I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris.
Cre.
Then she's a merry Greek indeed.
Pan.
Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other
day into the compast window; and you know he has not past
three or four hairs on his chin.
Cre.
Indeed a tapster's arithmetick may soon bring his particulars
therein to a total.
Pan.
Why he is very young, and yet will he within three
pound lift as much as his brother Hector.
Cre.
Is he so 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.
Cre.
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.
Cre.
Oh, he smiles valiantly.
-- 15 --
Pan.
Does he not?
Cre.
O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.
Pan.
Why, go to then—but to prove to you that Helen
loves Troilus.
Cre.
Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so.
Pan.
Troilus? why he esteems her no more, than I esteem an
addle egg.
Cre.
If you love an addle egg, as well as you love an idle head,
you would eat chickens i'th' shell.
Pan.
I cannot chuse but laugh to think how she tickled his
chin; indeed she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess.
Cre.
Without the rack.
Pan.
And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.
Cre.
Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.
Pan.
But there was such laughing. Queen Hecuba laught that
her eye run o'er.
Cre.
With milstones.
Pan.
And Cassandra laught.
Cre.
But there was more temperate fire under the pot of her
eyes; did her eyes run o'er too?
Pan.
And Hector laught.
Cre.
At what was all this laughing?
Pan.
Marry at the white hair, that Helen spied on Troilus's
chin.
Cre.
An't had been a green hair, I should have laught too.
Pan.
They laught not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.
Cre.
What was his answer?
Pan.
Quoth she, here's but two and fifty hairs on your chin,
and one of them is white.
Cre.
This is her question.
Pan.
That's true, make no question of that: two and fifty
hairs, quoth he, and one white; that white hair is the father, and
-- 16 --
all the rest are his sons. Jupiter, quoth she, which of these hairs is
Paris, my husband? the forked one, quoth he, pluck't out and
give it him: but there was such laughing, and Helen so blush'd,
and Paris so chaft, and all the rest so laught, that it past.
Cre.
So let it now, for it has been a great while going by.
Pan.
Well, cousin, I told you a thing Yesterday; think on't.
Cre.
So I do.
Pan.
I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you an 'twere a man
born in April.
[Sound a retreat.
Cre.
And I'll spring up in his tears, as 'twere a nettle against
May.
Pan.
Hark, they are coming from the field, shall we stand up
here and see them as they pass towards Ilium? good neice do,
sweet neice Cressida.
Cre.
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.
Æneas passes over the Stage.
Cre.
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 you; but mark Troilus, you shall see
anon.
Cre.
Who's that?
Antenor passes over the Stage.
Pan.
That's Antenor, he has a shrewd wit, I can tell you, and he's
a man good enough, he's one o'th' soundest judgment in Troy whosoever,
and a proper man of person; when comes Troilus? I'll shew
you Troilus anon; if he see me, you shall see him nod at me.
Cre.
Will he give you the nod?
Pan.
You shall see.
Cre.
If he do, the rich shall have more.
-- 17 --
Hector passes over.
Pan.
That's Hector, that, that, look you, that: there's a
fellow! go thy way, Hector; there's a brave man, neice: O brave
Hector! look how he looks? there's a countenance! is't not a brave
man?
Cre.
O brave man!
Pan.
Is he not? It does a man's 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 on, take't off who will,
as they say; there be hacks.
Cre.
Be those with swords?
Paris passes over.
Pan.
Swords, any thing, he cares not, an the devil come to
him, it's all one; by godslid is does ones heart good. Yonder
comes Paris, yonder comes Paris: look ye yonder, neice, is't
not a gallant man too, is't not? why, this is brave now: who
said he came home hurt to-day? he's not hurt; why, this will do
Helen's heart good now, ha? would I could see Troilus now, you
shall see Troilus anon.
Cre.
Who's that?
Helenus passes over.
Pan.
That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is: that's Helenus
—I think he went not forth to-day; that's Helenus.
Cre.
Can Helenus fight, uncle?
Pan.
Helenus, no—yes, he'll fight indifferent well—I
marvel where Troilus is? hark, do you not hear the people cry
Troilus? Helenus is a priest.
Cre.
What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
-- 18 --
Troilus passes over.
Pan.
Where! yonder? that's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus! there's
a man, neice—hem—brave Troilus; the prince of chivalry.
Cre.
Peace, for shame, peace.
Pan.
Mark him, note him: O brave Troilus: look well upon
him, neice, look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm
more hack'd then Hector's, and how he looks, and how he goes!
O admirable youth! he ne'er saw three and twenty. Go thy way
Troilus, go thy way; had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a
goddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris?
Paris is dirt to him, and I warrant Helen to change would give
a noteone eye to boot.
Enter common Soldiers.
Cre.
Here come more.
Pan.
Asses, fools, dolts, chaff and bran, chaff and bran; porridge
after meat. I could live and dye i'th' 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.
Cre.
There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than
Troilus.
Pan.
Achilles? a dray-man, a porter, a very camel.
Cre.
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 so forth, the spice and salt that seasons a man?
Cre.
Ay, a minc'd man, and then to be bak'd with no date in
the pye, for then the man's date is out.
Pan.
You are such another woman, one knows not at what
ward you lye.
Cre.
Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend
-- 19 --
my wiles; upon my secresie, to defend mine honesty; my
mask to defend my beauty, and you to defend all these; and at
all these wards I lye, at a thousand watches.
Pan.
Say one of your watches.
Cre.
Nay I'll watch you for that, and that's one of the chiefest
of them too; 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 is past watching.
Pan.
You are such another.
Enter Boy.
Boy.
Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.
Pan.
Where?
Boy.
At your own house, † notethere he unarms him.
Pan.
Good boy, tell him I come, I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye
well, good neice.
Cre.
Adieu, uncle.
Pan.
I'll be with you, neice, by and by.
Cre.
To bring, uncle—
Pan.
Ay, a token from Troilus.
Cre.
By the same token, you are a bawd.
[Exit Pan.
Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice,
He offers in another's enterprize:
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, the soul's joy lyes in doing:
That she belov'd knows nought that knows not this;
Men prize the thing ungain'd, more than it is.
That she was never yet, that ever knew
Love got, so sweet, as when desire did sue:
Atchievement is command; ungain'd, beseech.
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach;
-- 20 --
That though my heart's content firm love doth bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Agamemnon's Tent in the Grecian Camp.
Trumpets. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulysses, Diomedes, Menelaus, with others.
Agam.
Princes;
What grief hath set the jaundise on your cheeks?
The ample proposition that hope makes
In all designs begun on earth below,
Fails in the promis'd largeness; checks and disasters
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd:
As knots by the conflux of meeting sap
Infect the sound pine, and divert 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 sev'n years siege, yet Troy walls stand;
Sith every action that hath gone before,
Whereof we have record, tryal 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?
And think them shame, which are, indeed, nought else
But the protractive tryals 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,
-- 21 --
The hard and soft, seem all affin'd, and kin;
But in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Distinction with a b note broad and powerful fan
Puffing at all, winnows the light away;
And what hath mass, or matter by it self,
Lies rich in virtue, and unmingled.
Nest.
With due observance of thy goodly seat,
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply
Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance
Lies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth,
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
Upon her patient breast, making their way
With those of noble bulk?
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and anon behold
The strong-ribb'd bark thro' liquid mountains cuts,
Bounding between the two moist elements,
Like Perseus' horse: Where's then the sawcy boat,
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
Co-rival'd Greatness? or to harbour fled,
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so
Doth valour's shew and valour's worth divide
In storms of fortune. For in her ray and brightness
The herd hath more annoyance by the brize
Than by the tyger: but when splitting winds
Make flexible the knees of knotted oaks,
And flies get under shade; the thing of courage,
As rowz'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,
And with an accent tun'd in self-same key,
c noteReturns to chiding fortune.
Ulys.
Agamemnon,
Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,
Heart of our numbers, soul, and only spirit,
-- 22 --
In whom the tempers and the minds of all
Should be shut up: hear what Ulysses speaks.
Besides th' applause and approbation
The which, most mighty, for thy place and sway,
[To Aga.
And thou, most rev'rend for thy stretcht-out life,
[To Nest.
I give to both your speeches, which were such
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece
Should hold up high in brass; and such again
As venerable Nestor (hatch'd in silver)
Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree
On which heav'n rides, knit all the Grecian ears
To his experienc'd tongue: yet let it please both
(Thou great, and wise) to hear Ulysses speak.
Aga.
Speak, prince of Ithaca: we less expect
That matter needless, of importless burthen
Divide thy lips: than we are confident,
When rank Thersites opes his mastiff jaws,
We shall hear musick, wit, and oracle.
Ulys.
Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down,
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master,
But for these instances.
The specialty of rule hath been neglected;
And look how many Grecian tents do stand
Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions.
When that the general is not like the hive,
To whom the foragers shall all repair,
What honey is expected? degree being vizarded,
Th' unworthiest shews as fairly in the mask.
The heav'ns themselves, the planets, and this center,
Observe degree, priority and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
Office and custom, in all line of order:
And therefore is the glorious planet Sol
-- 23 --
In noble eminence enthron'd and sphear'd
Amidst the rest, whose med'cinable eye
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,
And posts like the command'ment 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 calm of states
Quite from their fixture? when degree is shaken,
(Which is the ladder to all high designs)
The enterprize is sick. How could communities,
Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,
Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,
The primogeniture, and due of birth,
Prerogative of age, crowns, scepters, lawrels,
(But by degree) stand in authentick place?
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And hark what discord follows; each thing meets
In meer oppugnancy. The bounded waters
Would lift their bosoms higher than the shores,
And make a sop of all this solid globe:
Strength would be lord of imbecility,
And the rude son would strike his father dead:
&plquo;Force would be right; or rather, right and wrong
&plquo;(Between whose endless jar justice resides)
&plquo;Would lose their names, and so would justice too.
&plquo;Then every thing includes it self in power,
&plquo;Power into will, will into appetite,
&plquo;And appetite (an universal wolf,
&plquo;So doubly seconded with will and power)
-- 24 --
&plquo;Must make perforce an universal prey,
&plquo;And last eat up itself. Great Agamemnon!
This chaos, when degree is suffocate,
Follows the choaking:
And this neglection of degree is it,
That by a pace goes backward, in a purpose
It hath to climb. 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 feaver
Of pale and bloodless emulation.
And 'tis this feaver that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weakness lives, not in her strength.
Nest.
Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd
The feaver, whereof all our power is sick.
Aga.
The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses,
What is the remedy?
Ulys.
The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns
The sinew and the fore-hand 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 live-long day
Breaks scurril jests;
And with ridiculous and aukward action
(Which, slanderer, he imitation calls)
He pageants us. Sometimes, great Agamemnon,
Thy topless deputation he puts on;
And like a strutting player, (whose conceit
Lies in his ham-string, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and sound
-- 25 --
'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage)
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming
He acts thy greatness in: and when he speaks,
'Tis like a chime a mending; with terms unsquar'd;
Which from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropt
Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff
The large Achilles, on his prest-bed lolling,
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause:
Cries—excellent—'tis Agamemnon just—
Now play me Nestor—hum, and stroke thy beard
As he, being drest to some oration.
That's done—as near as the extremest ends
Of parallels; as like as Vulcan and his wife:
Yet good 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 palsie fumbling on his gorget,
Shake in and out the rivet—at this sport,
Sir Valour dies; cries, “O!—enough Patroclus—
Or, “give me ribs of steel, I shall split all
“In pleasure of my spleen.” And in this fashion
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,
Severals and generals of grace exact,
Atchievements, 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.
Nest.
And in the imitation of these twain,
(Whom, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice) many are infect:
Ajax is grown self-will'd, and bears his head
-- 26 --
In such a rein, in full as proud a d notepace,
As broad Achilles; keeps 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 discredit our exposure,
How hard soever rounded in with danger.
Ulys.
They tax our policy, and call it cowardise,
Count wisdom as no member of the war,
Fore-stall our prescience, and esteem no act
But that of hand: &plquo;the still and mental parts,
&plquo;That do contrive how many hands shall strike
&plquo;When fitness calls them on, and know by measure
&plquo;Of their observant toil, the enemies weight,
&plquo;Why this hath not a finger's dignity;
&plquo;They call this bed-work, mapp'ry, closet-war:
&plquo;So that the ram that batters down the wall,
&plquo;For the great swing and rudeness of his poize,
&plquo;They place before his hand that made the engine;
&plquo;Or those that with the fineness of their souls
&plquo;By reason guide his execution.
Nest.
Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
Makes many Thetis' sons.
[Tucket sounds.
Aga.
What trumpet? look Menelaus.
Men.
From Troy.
SCENE VI.
Enter Æneas.
Aga.
What would you 'fore our tent?
Æne.
Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you?
Aga.
Even this.
-- 27 --
Æne.
May one that is a herald and a prince,
Do a fair message to his kingly ears?
Aga.
With surety stronger than Achilles' 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?
Aga.
How?
Æne.
I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning, when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phœbus:
Which is that god in office, guiding men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?
Aga.
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 in peace:
But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,
Good arms, strong joints, true swords, and Jove's accord,
Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Æneas,
Peace Trojan, lay thy finger on thy lips;
The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
If he that's prais'd himself bring the praise forth:
What the repining enemy commends,
That breath fame blows, that praise sole pure transcends.
Aga.
Sir, you of Troy, call you your self Æneas?
Æne.
Ay, Greek, that is my name.
Aga.
What's your affair, I pray you?
Æne.
Sir, pardon, 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.
Aga.
He hears nought privately that comes from Troy.
-- 28 --
Æne.
And I from Troy come not to whisper him,
I bring a trumpet to awake his ear,
To set his sense on that attentive bent,
And then to speak.
Aga.
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:
Send thy brass voice thro' all these lazy tents,
And every Greek of mettle, let him know
What Troy means fairly, shall be spoke aloud.
[The trumpets sound.
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A prince call'd Hector, (Priam is his father)
Who in this dull and long-continu'd truce
Is rusty grown, he bad me take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak: Kings, princes, lords,
If there be one amongst the fair'st of Greece,
That holds his honour higher than his ease,
That seeks 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
With truant vows to her own lips he loves,
And dare 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 hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek did compass in his arms;
And will to-morrow with his trumpet, call,
Midway between your tents and walls of Troy,
To rowze a Grecian that is true in love.
-- 29 --
If any come, Hector shall honour him:
If none, he'll say in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian dames are sun-burnt, and not worth
The splinter of a lance; even so much.
Aga.
This shall be told our lovers, lord Æneas.
If none of them have soul in such a kind,
We've left them all at home: but we are soldiers;
And may that soldier a meer recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love;
If then one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hector; if none else, I'm he.
Nest.
Tell him of Nestor; one that was a man
When Hector's grandsire suckt; he is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian e notehost
One nobleman that hath one spark of fire,
To answer for his love: tell him from me,
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver,
And in my † notevantbrace put this wither'd brawn,
And meeting him, will tell him, that my lady
Was fairer than his grandam, and as chaste
As may be in the world: his youth is flood;
I'll pawn this truth with my three drops of blood.
Æne.
Now heav'ns forbid such scarcity of youth.
Ulys.
Amen.
Aga.
Fair lord Æneas, let me touch your hand:
To our pavillion shall I lead you first:
Achilles shall have word of this intent,
So shall each lord of Greece from tent to tent:
Your self shall feast with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a noble foe.
[Exeunt.
-- 30 --
SCENE VII.
Manent Ulysses and Nestor.
Ulys.
Nestor.
Nest.
What says Ulysses?
Ulys.
I have a young conception in my brain,
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.
Nest.
What is't?
Ulys.
This 'tis:
Blunt wedges rive hard knots; the seeded pride
That hath to this maturity blown up
In rank Achilles, must or now be cropt,
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil
To over-bulk us all.
Nest.
Well, and how now?
Ulys.
This challenge that the valiant Hector sends,
However it is spread in general name,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.
Nest.
The purpose is perspicuous even as substance,
Whose grossness little characters sum up,
And in the publication make no strain:
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren
As banks of Lybia, (tho', Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough,) will with great speed of judgement,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.
Ulys.
And wake him to the answer, think you?
Nest.
Yes, 'tis most meet; whom may you else oppose
That can from Hector bring his honour off,
If not Achilles? though a sportful combat,
Yet in this tryal much opinion dwells.
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
-- 31 --
With their fin'st palate: trust to me, Ulysses,
Our imputation shall be odly pois'd
In this wild action. For the success,
Although particular, shall give 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 suppos'd,
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 conqu'ring part!
To steel a strong opinion to themselves;
Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments,
In no less working, than are swords and bows
Directive by the limbs.
Ulys.
Give pardon to my speech;
Therefore 'tis fit Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, shew our fowlest wares,
And think perchance they'll sell; if not,
The lustre of the better, yet to shew,
Shall shew the better. Do not then consent
That ever Hector and Achilles meet:
For both our honour and our shame in this
Are dogg'd with two strange followers.
Nest.
I see them not with my old eyes: what are they?
Ulys.
What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should share with him:
But he already is too insolent;
And we were better parch in Africk Sun
-- 32 --
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,
Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foil'd,
Why then we did our main opinion crush
In taint of our best man. No, make a lott'ry,
And by device let blockish Ajax draw
The sort to fight with Hector: 'mong our selves,
Give him allowance as the worthier man,
For that will physick 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 imploy'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes.
Nest.
Ulysses, now I relish thy advice,
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon, go we to him streight;
Two curs shall tame each other; pride alone
Must † notetar the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.
[Exeunt.
-- 33 --
ACT II.
SCENE I.
The Grecian Camp.
Enter Ajax and Thersites.
Ajax.
THERSITES.
Ther.
Agamemnon—how if he had biles—
full, all over generally.
[Talking to himself.
Ajax.
Thersites.
Ther.
And those biles did run—say so—did
not the general run, were not that a botchy core?
Ajax.
Dog.
Ther.
Then there would come some matter from him: I see
none now.
Ajax.
Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? feel then.
[Strikes him.
Ther.
The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mungrel beef-witted
lord.
Ajax.
Speak then, you f noteunsalted leaven, speak, I will beat
thee into handsomness.
Ther.
I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but I think
thy horse will sooner con an oration, than thou learn a prayer
without book: thou canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain o'thy
jades tricks.
Ajax.
Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation.
Ther.
Doest thou think I have no sense, thou strik'st me thus?
Ajax.
The proclamation.
Ther.
Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I think.
Ajax.
Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch.
-- 34 --
Ther.
I would thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had
the scratching of thee, I would make thee the loathsom'st scab in
Greece.
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. I, that thou bark'st at him.
Ajax.
Mistress Thersites.
Ther.
Thou shouldst strike him.
Ajax.
Cobloaf.
Ther.
He would pound thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor
breaks a bisket.
Ajax.
You whorson cur.
[Beating him.
Ther.
Do, do.
Ajax.
Thou stool for a witch.
Ther.
Ay, do, thou sodden-witted lord; thou hast no more
brain than I have in my elbows: an Assinego may tutor thee.
Thou scurvy valiant ass, thou art here but to thrash 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, thou.
Ajax.
You dog.
Ther.
You scurvy lord.
Ajax.
You cur.
[Beating him.
Ther.
Mars his ideot! do rudeness, do camel, do, do.
SCENE II.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Achil.
Why how now, Ajax? wherefore do you this?
How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man?
Ther.
You see him there, do you?
Achil.
Ay, what's the matter?
-- 35 --
Ther.
Nay look upon him.
Achil.
So I do, what's the matter?
Ther.
Nay, but regard him well.
Achil.
Well, why I do so.
Ther.
But yet you look not well upon him; for whosoever you
take him to be, he is Ajax.
Achil.
I know that, fool.
Ther.
Ay, but that fool knows not himself.
Ajax.
Therefore I beat thee.
Ther.
Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters, his evasions
have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain more than he
has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and
his Pia Mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This
lord (Achilles) Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts
in his head, I'll tell you what I say of him.
Achil.
What?
[Ajax offers to strike him, Achilles interposes.
Ther.
I say, this Ajax.—
Achil.
Nay, good Ajax.
Ther.
Has not so much wit—
Achil.
Nay, good Ajax.
Ther.
As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he
comes to fight.
Achil.
Peace, fool.
Ther.
I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not:
he there, that he, look you there.
Ajax.
O thou damn'd cur, I shall—
Achil.
Will you set your wit to a fool's?
Ther.
No, I warrant you, for a fool's will shame it.
Pat.
Good words, Thersites.
Achil.
What's the quarrel?
Ajax,
I bad the vile owl go learn me the tenure of the proclamation,
and he rails upon me.
-- 36 --
Ther.
I serve thee not.
Ajax.
Well, go to, go to.
Ther.
I serve here voluntary.
Achil.
Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary,
no man is beaten voluntary; Ajax was here the voluntary, and
you as under an impress.
Ther.
Ev'n so—a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews,
or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch, if he
knock out either of your brains, he were as good crack a fusty
nut with no kernel.
Achil.
What, with me too, Thersites?
Ther.
There's Ulysses, and old Nestor, (whose wit was mouldy
ere their Grandsires had nails on their toes,) yoke you like draft
oxen, and make you plough up the wair.
Achil.
What! what!
Ther.
Yes good sooth, to Achilles, to Ajax, to—
Ajax.
I shall cut out your tongue.
Ther.
'Tis no matter, I shall speak as much as thou afterwards.
Pat.
No more words, Thersites.
Ther.
I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I?
Achil.
There's for you, Patroclus.
Ther.
I will see you hang'd like clotpoles, ere I come any more
to your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the
faction of fools
[Exit.
Pat.
A good riddance.
Achil.
Marry this, Sir, is proclaim'd through all our host,
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,
Will with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,
That hath a stomach, such a one that dare
Maintain I know not what: 'tis trash, farewel.
Ajax.
Farewel! who shall answer him?
-- 37 --
Achil.
I know not, 'tis put to lott'ry; otherwise
He knew his man.
Ajax.
O, meaning you: I'll go learn more of it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Priam's Palace in Troy.
Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris and Helenus.
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
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
The 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 † notedismes
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, nor 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?
-- 38 --
Troi.
Fie, fie, my brother:
Weigh you the worth and honour of a king
(So great is our dread father) in a scale
Of common ounces? will you with counters sum
The vast proportion of his infinite?
And buckle in a waste, most fathomless,
With spans and inches so diminutive
As fears and reasons? fie for godly shame!
Hel.
No marvel, tho' you bite so sharp at reasons,
You're empty of them. Should not our father Priam
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 perillous,
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,
† noteAnd fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
† noteOr like a star dis-orb'd.—Nay if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep: manhood and honour
Should have g notehare-hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect
Make h notelivers pale, and lustyhood deject.
Hect.
Brother, she is not worth
What she doth cost the holding.
Troi.
What's ought, but as 'tis valu'd?
Hect.
But Value dwells not in particular will,
It holds its estimate and dignity
As well wherein 'tis precious of it self,
As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry,
-- 39 --
To make the service greater than the god;
And the will dotes, that is † noteinclinable
To what infectiously it self affects,
Without some image of th' affected merit.
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 trading 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 spoil'd them; nor th' remainder viands
We do not throw in unrespective place,
Because we now are full. It was thought meet
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks:
Your breath of full consent bellied his sails;
The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce,
And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir'd;
And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive,
He brought a Grecian queen whose youth and freshness
Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes i note pale the morning.
Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt:
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships,
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants—
If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went,
(As you must needs, for you all cry'd, go, go:)
If you'll confess he brought home noble prize,
(As you must needs, for you all clap'd your hands
And cry'd, inestimable;) why d' you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate,
-- 40 --
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar that estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land? O theft most base!
That we have stoln what we do fear to keep!
But thieves, unworthy of a thing so stoln,
Who in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place.
SCENE IV.
Enter Cassandra with her hair about her ears.
Cas.
Cry, Trojans, cry!
Pri.
What noise? what shriek is this?
Troi.
'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice.
Cas.
Cry, Trojans!
Hect.
It is Cassandra.
Cas.
Cry, Trojans, cry; lend me ten thousand eyes,
And I will fill them with prophetick tears.
Hect.
Peace, sister, peace.
Cas.
Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled old,
Soft infancy, that nothing can but cry,
Add to my clamour! let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mass of moan to come:
Cry, Trojans, cry, practise your eyes with tears.
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand:
Our fire-brand brother, Paris burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen and a wo;
Cry, cry, Troy burns, or else let Helen go.
[Exit.
Hect.
Now, youthful Troilus, do not the high strains
Of divination in our sister work
Some touches of remorse? Or is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason
-- 41 --
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,
Can qualifie the same?
Troi.
Why, brother Hector,
We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than event doth form it;
Nor once deject the courage of our minds,
Because Cassandra's mad; her brain-sick raptures
Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel,
Which hath our several honours all engag'd
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons,
And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen,
To fight for and maintain.
Par.
Else might the world convince of levity
As well my undertakings, as your counsels:
But I attest the gods, your full consent
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off
All fears attending on so dire a project.
For what, alas, can these my single arms?
What propugnation is in one man's valour,
To stand the push and enmity of those
This quarrel would excite? yet I protest,
Were I alone to pass the difficulties,
And had as ample power, as I have will,
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuit.
Pri.
Paris, you speak
Like one besotted on your sweet delights;
You have the honey still, but these the gall,
So to be valiant is no praise at all.
Par.
Sir, I propose not meerly to my self,
The pleasures such a beauty brings with it:
-- 42 --
But I would have the soil of her fair rape
Wip'd off in honourable keeping her.
What treason were it to the ransack'd queen,
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her possession up,
On terms of base compulsion? can it be,
That so degenerate a strain as this
Should once set footing in your generous bosoms?
There's not the meanest spirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,
When Helen is defended: none so noble,
Whose life were ill bestow'd, or death unfam'd,
Where Helen is the subject. Then, I say,
Well may we fight for her, whom we know well
The world's large spaces cannot parallel.
Hect.
Paris and Troilus, you have both said well:
And on the cause and question now in hand
Have gloss'd, but superficially; not much
Unlike young men, whom i notegraver sages think
Unfit to hear moral philosophy.
The reasons you alledge, do more conduce
To the hot passion of distemper'd blood,
Than to make up a free determination
'Twixt right and wrong: for pleasure and revenge
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decision. Nature craves
All dues be render'd to their owners; now
What nearer debt in all humanity,
Than wife is to the husband? if this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection,
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benummed wills, resist the same;
There is a law in each well-order'd nation,
-- 43 --
To curb those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refractory.
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king,
(As it is known she is) these moral laws
Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud
To have her back return'd. Thus to persist
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion
Is this in way of truth; yet ne'ertheless,
My spritely brethen, I propend to you
In resolution to keep Helen still;
For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance,
Upon our joint and several dignities.
Troi.
Why there you touch'd the life of our designs:
Were it not glory that we more affected,
Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theam of honour and renown,
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame, in time to come, canonize us.
For I presume, brave Hector would not lose
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory,
As smiles upon the forehead of this action,
For the wide world's revenue.
Hect.
I am yours,
You valiant off-spring of great Priamus,
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike amazement to their drowsie spirits.
I was advertis'd, their great general slept,
This I presume will wake him—
[Exeunt.
-- 44 --
SCENE V.
The Grecian Camp.
Enter Thersites solus.
How now, Thersites? what, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury?
shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? he beats me,
and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction! would it were otherwise;
that I could beat him, whilst he rail'd at me: 'sfoot, I'll
learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful
execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer. If
Troy be not taken 'till these two undermine it, the walls will
stand 'till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter
of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of gods; and
Mercury lose all the serpentine craft of thy Caduceus, if thou
take not that little, little, less than little wit from them that
they have; which short-arm'd ignorance it self knows is so abundant
scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider,
without drawing the massy irons and cutting the web. After
this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or rather the bone-ach,
for that methinks is the curse dependant on those that war for
a placket. I have said my prayers, and devil Envy say Amen.
What ho! my lord Achilles!
Enter Patroclus
Patr.
Who's there? Thersites? Good Thersites come in and rail.
Ther.
If I could have remember'd a gilt counter, thou could'st
not have slip'd out of my contemplation, but it is no matter, thy
self upon thy self! The common curse of mankind, folly and
ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor,
and discipline come not near thee. Let thy blood be thy
direction 'till thy death, then if she that lays thee out says thou
-- 45 --
art a fair coarse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrowded
any but Lazars; Amen. Where's Achilles?
Patr.
What, art thou devout? wast thou in a prayer?
Ther.
Ay, the heav'ns hear me.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Who's there?
Patr.
Thersites, my lord.
Achil.
Where, where? art thou come? why, my cheese, my
digestion—why hast thou not served thy self up to my table, so
many meals? come, what's Agamemnon?
Ther.
Thy commander, Achilles; then tell me, Patroclus,
what's Achilles?
Patr.
Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's
thy self?
Ther.
Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me Patroclus, what
art thou?
Patr.
Thou may'st tell, that know'st.
Achil.
O tell, tell.
Ther.
I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands
Achilles, Achilles is my lord, I am Patroclus's knower, and Patroclus
is a fool.
Patr.
You rascal—
Ther.
Peace, fool, I have not done.
Achil.
He is a privileg'd man. Proceed, Thersites.
Ther.
Agamemnon is a fool, Achilles is a fool, Thersites is a
fool, and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.
Achil.
Derive this; come.
Ther.
Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles,
Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon, Thersites
is a fool to serve such a fool, and Patroclus is a fool positive.
Patr.
Why am I a fool!
Ther.
Make that demand to thy creator, it suffices me thou art.
-- 46 --
SCENE VI.
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax, and Chalcas.
Look you, who comes here?—
Achil.
Patroclus, I'll speak with no body: come in with me,
Thersites.
[Exit.
Ther.
Here is such patchery, such jugling, and such knavery:
all the argument is a cuckold and a whore, a good quarrel to
draw emulous factions, and bleed to death upon: now the dry
Serpigo on the subject, and war and lechery confound all.
Aga.
Where is Achilles?
Patr.
Within his tent, but ill dispos'd, my lord.
Aga.
Let it be known to him that we are here.
He sent our messengers, and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of him:
Let him be told so, lest perchance he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.
Patr.
I shall so say to him.
[Exit.
Ulys.
We saw him at the opening of his tent,
He is not sick.
Ajax.
Yes, lion-sick, sick of a proud heart: you may call it
melancholy, if you will favour the man, but by my head 'tis
pride; but why, why?—let him shew us the cause. A word,
my lord.
[To Agamemnon.
Nest.
What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
Ulys.
Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
Nest.
Who, Thersites?
Ulys.
He.
Nest.
Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument.
-- 47 --
Ulys.
No, you see he is his argument, that has his argument,
Achilles.
Nest.
All the better, their fraction is more our wish than their
faction; but it was a strong counsel that a fool could disunite.
Ulys.
The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily
untye.
SCENE VII.
Enter Patroclus.
Here comes Patroclus.
Nest.
No Achilles with him?
Ulys.
The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesie;
His legs are for necessity, not k noteflexure.
Patr.
Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure,
Did move your greatness, and this noble state,
To call on him; he hopes it is no other,
But for your health and your digestion-sake;
An after-dinner's breath.
Aga.
Hear you, Patroclus;
We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his evasion wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outflie our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him; yet his virtues
(Not virtuously on his own part beheld)
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss;
And like fair fruit in an unwholsom dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him, you shall not sin
If you do say we think him over-proud,
In self-assumption greater than in note
-- 48 --
Of judgment: say, men worthier than himself
Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And under-goe in an observing kind
His humorous predominance; yea, watch
l noteHis course and times, his ebbs and flows; as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,
That if he over-hold his price so much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lye under this report.
Bring action hither, this can't go to war:
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give,
Before a sleeping gyant; tell him so.
Patr.
I shall, and bring his answer presently.
[Exit.
Aga.
In second voice we'll not be satisfied,
We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter.
[Exit Ulysses.
Ajax.
What is he more than another?
Aga.
No more than what he thinks he is.
Ajax.
Is he so much? do you not think he thinks himself a
better man than I am?
Aga.
No question.
Ajax.
Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is?
Aga.
No, noble Ajax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wise,
no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.
Ajax.
Why should a man be proud? how doth pride grow? I
know not what it is.
Aga.
Your mind is clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer;
he that is proud, eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his own
trumpet, his own chronicle, and whatever praises it self but in the
deed, devours the deed in the praise.
-- 49 --
SCENE VIII.
Enter Ulysses.
Ajax.
I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendring of
toads.
Nest.
Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
Ulys.
Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Aga.
What's his excuse?
Ulys.
He doth rely on none;
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without observance or respect of any,
In will peculiar, and in self-admission.
Aga.
Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Un-tent his person, and share the air with us?
Ulys.
Things small as nothing, for request's sake only
He makes important: he's possest with greatness,
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath. Imagin'd m noteworth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters n notedown himself; what should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it
Cry, no recovery.
Aga.
Let Ajax go to him.
Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent;
'Tis said he holds you well, and will be led
At your request a little from himself.
Ulys.
O, Agamemnon, let it not be so.
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes,
When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord,
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam,
-- 50 --
And never suffers matters of the world
Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself? shall he be worship'd,
Of that we hold an idol more than he?
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd,
Nor by my will assubjugate his merit,
(As amply titled, as Achilles is,) by going to Achilles:
That were to 'enlard his o notepride, already fat,
And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This lord go to him? Jupiter forbid,
And say in thunder, Achilles go to him.
Nest.
O this is well, he rubs the vein of him.
Dio.
And how his silence drinks up this applause!
Ajax.
If I go to him—with my armed fist
I'll pash him o'er the face.
Aga.
O no, you shall not go.
Ajax.
An he be proud with me, I'll pheese his pride; let me
go to him.
Ulys.
Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
Ajax.
A paultry insolent fellow—
Nest.
How he describes himself.
Ajax.
Can he not be sociable?
Ulys.
The raven chides blackness,
Ajax.
I'll let his humours blood.
Aga.
He'll be the physician, that should be the patient.
Ajax.
And all men were o'my mind—
Ulys.
Wit would be out of fashion.
Ajax.
He should not bear it so, he should eat swords first:
shall pride carry it?
Nest.
An 'twould, you'd carry half.
Ulys.
He would have ten shares.
-- 51 --
Ajax.
I will knead him, I'll make him supple, he's not yet
through warm.
Nest.
Force him with praises; pour in, pour in; his ambition
is dry.
Ulys.
My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
Nest.
Our noble general, do not do so.
Dio.
You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
Ulys.
Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm.
Here is a man—but 'tis before his face—
I will be silent.
Nest.
Wherefore should you so?
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.
Ulys.
Know the whole world, he is as valiant.
Ajax.
A whorson dog! that palters thus with us—
Would he were a Trojan!
Nest.
What a vice were it in Ajax now—
Ulys.
If he were proud.
Dio.
Or covetous of praise.
Ulys.
Ay, or surly born.
Dio.
Or strange, or self-affected.
Ulys.
Thank the heav'ns, lord, thou art of sweet composure;
Praise him that got thee, her that gave thee suck:
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition;
But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half; and for thy vigor,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yields
To sinewy Ajax; I'll not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts. Here's Nestor
Instructed by the Antiquary times;
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise:
-- 52 --
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax, and your brain so temper'd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.
Ajax.
Shall I call you father?
Ulys.
Ay, my good son.
Dio.
Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.
Ulys.
There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles
Keeps thicket; please it our great general
To call together all his state of war;
Fresh kings are come to Troy; to-morrow, friends,
We must with all our main of pow'r stand fast:
And here's a lord (come knights from east to west,
And cull their flow'r,) Ajax, shall cope the best.
Aga.
Go we to council, let Achilles sleep;
p noteLight boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
TROY.
Enter Pandarus, and a Servant.
[Musick within.]
Pandarus.
Friend! you! pray you a word: do not you
follow the young lord Paris?
Ser.
Ay Sir, when he goes before me.
Pan.
You do depend upon him, I mean?
Ser.
Sir, I do depend upon the lord.
Pan.
You depend upon a noble gentleman: I
must needs praise him.
-- 53 --
Ser.
The lord be praised.
Pan.
You know me, do you not?
Ser.
Faith, Sir, superficially.
Pan.
Friend, know me better, I am the lord Pandarus.
Ser.
I hope I shall know your honour better.
Pan.
I do desire it.
Ser.
You are in the state of grace?
Pan.
Grace? not so, friend: honour and lordship are my titles:
What musick is this?
Ser.
I do but partly know, Sir; it is musick in parts.
Pan.
Know you the musicians?
Ser.
Wholly, Sir.
Pan.
Who play they to?
Ser.
To the hearers, Sir.
Pan.
At whose pleasure, friend?
Ser.
At mine, Sir, and theirs that love musick.
Pan.
Command, I mean, friend.
Ser.
Who shall I command, Sir?
Pan.
Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly,
and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play?
Ser.
That's to't indeed, Sir; marry, Sir, at the request of
Paris my lord, who's there in person; with him the mortal Venus,
the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul.
Pan.
Who, my cousin Cressida?
Ser.
No Sir, Helen; could you not find out that by her attributes?
Pan.
It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the lady
Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the prince Troilus: I
will make a complemental assault upon him, for my business seethes.
Ser.
Sodden business! there's a stew'd phrase indeed.
-- 54 --
SCENE II.
Enter Paris and Helen.
Pan.
Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company:
fair desires in all fair measure fairly guide them, especially to you,
fair Queen, fair thoughts be your fair pillow.
Helen.
Dear lord, you are full of fair words.
Pan.
You speak your fair pleasure, sweet Queen: fair Prince,
here is good broken musick.
Par.
You have broken it, cousin, and by my life you shall
make it whole again, you shall piece it out with a piece of your
performance. Nell, he is full of harmony.
Pan.
Truly, lady, no.
Helen.
O, Sir—
Pan.
Rude in sooth, in good sooth very rude.
Par.
Well said, my lord; well, you say so in fits.
Pan.
I have business to my lord, dear Queen; my lord, will
you vouchsafe me a word?
Helen.
Nay, this shall not hedge us out, we'll hear you sing
certainly.
Pan.
Well, sweet Queen, you are pleasant with me; but, marry
thus, my lord, my dear lord, and most esteemed friend,
your brother Troilus—
Helen.
My lord Pandarus, honey-sweet lord.
Pan.
Go to, sweet Queen, go to—
Commends himself most affectionately to you.
Helen.
You shall not bob us out of our melody:
If you do, our melancholy upon your head.
Pan.
Sweet Queen, sweet Queen, that's a sweet Queen, I'faith—
Helen.
And to make a sweet lady sad, is a sower offence. Nay,
that shall not serve your turn, that shall it not in truth la. Nay,
I care not for such words, no, no—
-- 55 --
Pan.
And, my lord, he desires you, that if the King call for
him at supper, you will make his excuse.
Helen.
My lord Pandarus—
Pan.
What says my sweet Queen, my very very sweet Queen?
Par.
What exploit's in hand, where sups he to-night?
Helen.
Nay, but my lord.
Pan.
What says my sweet Queen? my cousin will fall out with
you.
Helen.
You must not know where he sups.
Par.
I'll lay my life with my disposer Cressida.
Pan.
No, no, no such matter, you are wide; come, your disposer
is sick.
Par.
Well, I'll make excuse.
Pan.
Ay, good my lord; why should you say Cressida? no,
your poor disposer's sick.
Par.
I spy—
Pan.
You spy, what do you spy? come, give me an instrument
now, sweet Queen.
Helen.
Why this is kindly done.
Pan.
My neice is horribly in love with a thing you have,
sweet Queen.
Helen.
She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris.
Pan.
He? no, she'll none of him, they two are twain.
Helen.
Falling in after falling out may make them three?
Pan.
Come, come, I'll hear no more of this. I'll sing you a
song now.
Helen.
Ay, ay, pr'ythee now; by my troth, sweet lord, thou hast
a fine fore-head.
Pan.
Ay, you may, you may—
Helen.
Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. Oh,
Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.
Pan.
Love! ay, that it shall, i'faith.
Par.
Ay good now, love, love, nothing but love.
-- 56 --
Pan.
In good troth it begins so.
Love, love, nothing but love, still more:
For O, love's bow
Shoots buck and doe:
The shaft confounds
Not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore:
These lovers cry, oh oh they dye:
Yet, that which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn, oh oh, to ha ha he:
So dying love lives still.
O ho a while, but ha ha ha;
O ho groans out for ha ha ha—hey ho.
Helen.
In love i'faith to the very tip of the nose!
Par.
He eats nothing but doves, love, and that breeds hot
blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget
hot deeds, and hot deeds are love.
Pan.
Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot thoughts,
and hot deeds? why they are vipers, is love a generation of vipers?
Sweet lord, who's afield to-day?
Par.
Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Anthenor, and all the gallantry
of Troy. I would fain have arm'd to-day, but my Nell
would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?
Helen.
He hangs the lip at something; you know all, lord
Pandarus.
Pan.
Not I, honey sweet Queen: I long to hear how they
sped to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse?
Par.
To a hair.
Pan.
Farewel, sweet Queen.
Helen.
Commend me to your neice.
Pan.
I will, sweet Queen.
[Exit. Sound a Retreat.
-- 57 --
Par.
They're come from field; let us to Priam's hall,
To greet the warriors. Helen I must woo you
To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers toucht,
Shall more obey, than to the edge of steel,
Or force of Greekish sinews: you shall do more
Than all the island Kings, disarm great Hector.
Helen.
'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris:
Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty
Gives us more palm in beauty than we have,
Yea, over-shines our self.
Par.
Sweet, above thought I love thee.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Pandarus, and Troilus's Man.
Pan.
Now, where's thy master? at my cousin Cressida's?
Ser.
No Sir, he stays you to conduct him thither.
Enter Troilus.
Pan.
O, here he comes; how now, how now?
Troi.
Sirrah, walk off.
Pan.
Have you seen my cousin?
Troi.
No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the lilly beds
Propos'd for the deserver! Gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Cressid.
Pan.
Walk here i'th' orchard, I will bring her straight.
[Exit Pandarus.
-- 58 --
Troi.
I'm giddy; expectation whirles me round.
Th' imaginary relish is so sweet,
That it enchants my sense; what will it be
When that the watry palates taste indeed
Love's thrice reputed nectar? death, I fear me;
Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine
Too subtile, potent, and too sharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my rude powers;
I fear it much, and I do fear besides
That I shall lose distinction in my joys,
As doth a battel when they charge on heaps
The flying enemy.
Re-enter Pandarus.
Pan.
She's making her ready, she'll come straight; you must
be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short,
as if she were fraid with a sprite: I'll bring her. It is the prettiest
villain, she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en sparrow.
[Exit Pandarus.
Troi.
Ev'n such a passion doth embrace my bosom:
My heart beats thicker than a fev'rous pulse,
And all my pow'rs do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encountring
The eye of majesty.
SCENE IV.
Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
Pan.
Come, come; what need you blush? Shame's a baby.
Here she is now: swear the oaths now to her, that you have sworn
to me. What, are you gone again? you must be watch'd ere
you be made tame, must you? come your ways, come your
ways; if you draw backward we'll put you i'th' files: Why
do you not speak to her? Come draw this curtain, and let's
-- 59 --
see your picture. Alas the day, how loth you are to offend daylight?
an 'twere dark you'd close sooner. So, so, rub on, and
kiss the mistress; how now, a kiss in fee-farm? build there carpenter,
the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out
ere I part you. The faulcon has the tercel, for all the ducks i'th'
river: go to, go to.
Troi.
You have bereft me of all words, lady.
Pan.
Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but she'll bereave
you of deeds too, if she call your activity in question: what,
billing again? here's in witness whereof the parties interchangeably
—come in, come in, I'll go get a fire.
[Exit Pan.
Cre.
Will you walk in, my lord?
Troi.
O Cressida, how often have I wisht me thus?
Cre.
Wisht, my lord! the gods grant—O, my lord.
Troi.
What should they grant; what makes this pretty abruption?
what too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain
of our love?
Cre.
More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.
Troi.
Fears make devils of cherubins, they never see truly.
Cre.
Blind fear which seeing reason leads, finds safer footing
than blind reason stumbling without fear. To fear the worst, oft
cures the worse.
Troi.
O let my lady apprehend no fear, in all Cupid's pageant
there is presented no monster.
Cre.
Nor nothing monstrous neither?
Troi.
Nothing but our undertakings, when we vow to weep
seas, live in fire, eat rocks tame tygers; thinking it harder for
our mistress to devise imposition enough, than for us to undergo
any difficulty imposed. This is the monstrosity in love, lady,
that the will is infinite, and the execution confin'd; that the desire
is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.
Cre.
They say all lovers swear more performance than they
are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform:
-- 60 --
vowing more than the perfection of ten; and discharging less
than the tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions,
and the act of hares, are they not monsters?
Troi.
Are there such? such are not we: praise us as we are
tasted, allow us as we prove: our head shall go bare, 'till merit
crown it; no perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present;
we will not name desert before his birth, and being born, his addition
shall be humble; few words to fair faith. Troilus shall be such to
Cressida; as what envy can say worst, shall be a mock for his
truth; and what truth can speak truest, not truer than Troilus.
Cre.
Will you walk in, my lord?
SCENE V.
Enter Pandarus.
Pan.
What, blushing still? have you not done talking yet?
Cre.
Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.
Pan.
I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'll
give him me; be true to my lord; if he flinch, chide me for it.
Troi.
You know now your hostages; your uncle's word and
my firm faith.
Pan.
Nay, I'll give my word for her too; our kindred, though
they be long ere they are woo'd, they are constant being won:
they are burrs, I can tell you, they'll stick where they are thrown.
Cre.
Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart:
Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day,
For many weary months.
Troi.
Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?
Cre.
Hard to seem won: but I was won, my lord,
With the first glance that ever—pardon me—
If I confess much, you will play the tyrant:
I love you now, but not till now, so much
But I might master it—in faith I lie—
-- 61 --
My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown
Too head-strong for their mother; see we fools,
Why have I blabb'd? who shall be true to us
When we are so unsecret to our selves?
But though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not,
And yet good faith I wisht my self a man:
Or that the women had mens privilege
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue,
For in this rapture I shall surely speak
The thing I shall repent; see, q
note
see, your silence
(Cunning in dumbness) from my weakness draws
My very soul of counsel. Stop my mouth.
Troi.
And shall, albeit sweet musick issues thence.
[Kissing.
Pan.
Pretty, i'faith.
Cre.
My lord, I do beseech you pardon me;
'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss:
I am asham'd;—O heav'ns, what have I done!—
For this time will I take my leave, my lord.
Troi.
Your leave, sweet Cressid?
Pan.
Leave! an you take leave 'till to-morrow-morning—
Cre.
Pray you, content you.
Troi.
What offends you, lady?
Cre.
Sir, mine own company.
Troi.
You cannot shun your self.
Cre.
Let me go try:
I have a kind of self resides with you:
But an unkind self, that it self will leave,
To be another's fool. Where is my wit?
I would be gone: I speak I know not what.
Troi.
Well know they what they speak, that speak so wisely.
-- 62 --
Cre.
Perchance, my lord, I shew more craft than love
And fell so roundly to a large confession,
To angle for your thoughts: but you are wise,
Or else you love not: To be wise and love,
Exceeds man's might, and dwells with gods above.
Troi.
O that I thought it could be in a woman;
(As if it can, I will presume in you,)
To feed for ay her lamp and flames of love,
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,
Out-living beauties outward, with a mind
That doth renew swifter than blood decays.
Oh that perswasion could but thus convince me,
That my integrity and truth to you
Might be affronted with the match and weight
Of such a winnow'd purity in love:
How were I then up-lifted! but alas,
I am as true as truth's simplicity,
And simpler than the infancy of truth.
Cre.
In that I'll war with you.
Troi.
O virtuous fight!
&plquo;True swains in love shall in the world to come
&plquo;Approve their truths by Troilus; when their rhimes,
&plquo;Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,
&plquo;Want similies: truth tired with iteration,
&plquo;As true as steel, as r noteplanets to the moon,
&plquo;As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,
&plquo;As ir'on to adamant, as earth to th' center:
&plquo;Yet after all comparisons of truth,
&plquo;(As truth's authentick author to be cited)
&plquo;As true as Troilus shall crown up the verse
&plquo;And sanctifie the numbers.
Cre.
Prophet may you be!
&plquo;If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
-- 63 --
&plquo;When time is old and hath forgot it self,
&plquo;When water-drops have worn the stones of Troy,
&plquo;And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,
&plquo;And mighty states characterless are grated
&plquo;To dusty nothing; yet let memory,
&plquo;From false to false, among false maids in love,
&plquo;Upbraid my falsehood; when they've said as false
&plquo;As air, as water, wind, as sandy earth;
&plquo;As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf;
&plquo;Pard to the hind, or step-dame to her son;
&plquo;Yea let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
&plquo;As false as Cressid.—
Pan.
Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it, I'll be the witness.
Here I hold your hand; here my cousin's; if ever you
prove false to one another, since I have taken such pains to bring
you together, let all pitiful goers-between be call'd to the world's
end after my name: call them all Pandars; let all constant men
be Troilus's, all false women Cressida's, and all brokers between
Pandars: say Amen.
Troi.
Amen.
Cre.
Amen.
Pan.
Amen. Whereupon I will shew you a chamber, which
bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it
to death: away.
And Cupid grant all tongue-ty'd maidens here,
Bed, chamber, Pandar, to provide this geer.
[Exeunt.
-- 64 --
SCENE VI.
The Grecian Camp.
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, Menelaus, and Calchas.
Cal.
Now, Princes, for the service I have done you,
Th' advantage of the time prompts me aloud
To call for recompence: appear it to you
That, through the sight I bear in things to come,
I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name, expos'd my self,
From certain and possest conveniencies,
To doubtful fortunes; sequestred from all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
Made tame and most familiar to my nature.
And here to do you service am become
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted.
I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
To give me now a little benefit,
Out of those many registred in promise,
Which you say live to come in my behalf.
Aga.
What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? make demand.
Cal.
You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor,
Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear.
Oft have you (often have you thanks therefore)
Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange,
Whom Troy hath still deny'd: but this Antenor,
I know, is such a wrest in their affairs,
That their negociations all must slack,
Wanting this manage; and they will almost
Give us a prince o'th' blood, a son of Priam,
-- 65 --
In change of him. Let him be sent, great princes,
And he shall buy my daughter: and her presence
Shall quite strike off all service I have done,
In most accepted pain.
Aga.
Let Diomedes bear him,
And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall have
What he requests of us. Good Diomede,
Furnish you fairly for this enterchange;
Withall, bring word if Hector will to-morrow
Be answer'd in his challenge. Ajax is ready.
Dio.
This shall I undertake, and 'tis a burthen
Which I am proud to bear.
[Exit.
SCENE VII.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus, in their tent.
Ulys.
Achilles stands i'th' entrance of his tent;
Please it our general to pass strangely by him,
As if he were forgot; and princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him:
I will come last, 'tis like he'll question me,
Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him?
If so, I have decision medicinable
To use between our strangeness and his pride,
Which his own will shall have desire to drink.
It may do good: Pride hath no other glass
To shew it self, but pride; for supple knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.
Aga.
We'll execute your purpose, and put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along;
So do each lord, and either greet him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.
-- 66 --
Achil.
What, comes the general to speak with me?
You know my mind. I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.
Aga.
What says Achilles? would he ought with us?
Nest.
Would you, my lord, ought with the general?
Achil.
No.
Nest.
Nothing, my lord.
Aga.
The better.
Achil.
Good day, good day.
Men.
How do you? how do you?
Achil.
What, does the cuckold scorn me?
Ajax.
How now, Patroclus?
Achil.
Good morrow, Ajax.
Ajax.
Ha?
Achil.
Good morrow.
Ajax.
Ay, and good next day too.
[Exeunt.
Achil.
What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?
Patr.
They pass by strangely: they were us'd to bend,
To send their smiles before them to Achilles,
To come as humbly as they us'd to creep
To holy altars.
Achil.
What, am I poor of late?
&plquo;'Tis certain, Greatness once fall'n out with fortune
&plquo;Must fall out with men too: what the declin'd is,
&plquo;He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
&plquo;As feel in his own fall: for men, like butter-flies,
&plquo;Shew not their mealy wings but to the summer;
&plquo;And not a man, for being simply man,
&plquo;Hath honour, but is honour'd by those honours
&plquo;That are without him; as place, riches, favour,
&plquo;Prizes of accident as oft as merit:
&plquo;Which when they fall (as being slipp'ry standers)
&plquo;The love that lean'd on them, as slipp'ry too,
&plquo;Doth one pluck down another, and together
-- 67 --
Dye in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:
Fortune and I are friends, I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did possess,
Save these men's looks, who do methinks find out
Something in me not worth that rich beholding
As they have often giv'n. Here is Ulysses.
I'll interrupt his reading.—Now Ulysses?
Ulys.
Now, Thetis' son!
Achil.
What are you reading?
Ulys.
A strange fellow here
Writes me, that Man, how dearly ever parted,
How much in having or without, or in,
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;
As when his virtues shining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.
Achil.
This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is born here in the face
The bearer knows not, but commends it self
† noteTo others eyes: nor doth the eye it self
† note(That most pure spirit of sense) behold it self
Not going from it self, but eyes oppos'd
Salute each other with each others form.
For speculation turns not to it self,
'Till it hath travell'd, and is marry'd there
Where it may see its self; this is not strange.
Ulys.
I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar; but the author's drift;
Who in his circumstance expresly proves
That no man is the lord of any thing,
(Tho' in and of him there is much consisting)
'Till he communicate his parts to others:
-- 68 --
Nor doth he of himself know them for ought,
'Till he behold them formed in th' applause
Where they're extended; which like an arch reverb'rates
The voice again, or like a gate of steel
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this,
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax—
Heav'ns! what a man is there? a very horse,
s noteHe knows not his own nature: What things are
Most abject in regard, and dear in use?
What things again most dear in the esteem,
And poor in worth? now shall we see to-morrow
An act that very chance doth throw upon him:
Ajax renown'd! O heav'ns, what some men do,
While some men leave to do!
How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
While others play the ideots in her eyes:
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is feasting in his wantonness!
To see these Grecian lords! why ev'n already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrinking.
Achil.
This I do believe,
They pass'd by me, as misers do by beggars,
Neither gave to me good word, nor good look:
What, are my deeds forgot?
&plquo;Ulys.
&plquo;Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
&plquo;Wherein he puts alms for oblivion:
&plquo;(A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes)
&plquo;Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd
&plquo;As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
-- 69 --
&plquo;As done: perseverance keeps honour bright:
&plquo;To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,
&plquo;Like rusty Mail in monumental mockery.
For honour travels in a streight 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 turn aside from the direct forth-right,
Like to an entred tide they all rush by,
And leave you hindermost; and there you lye
Like to a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
For pavement to the abject, near o'er-run
And trampled on: Then what they do in present,
Tho' less than yours in past, must o'er-top yours.
&plquo;For time is like a fashionable host,
&plquo;That slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand;
&plquo;But with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
&plquo;Grasps in the comer; Welcome ever smiles,
&plquo;And Farewel goes out sighing. O let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was;
For beauty, wit, high birth, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;
That all with one consent praise new-born gauds,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things past;* note
The present eye praises the present object.
Then marvel not, thou great and compleat man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
-- 70 --
Than what not stirs. The cry t notewent once for thee,
And still it might, and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thy self alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent;
Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late
Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,
And drave great Mars to faction.
Achil.
Of my privacy
I have strong reasons.
Ulys.
'Gainst your privacy
The reasons are more potent and heroical.
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam's daughters.
Achil.
Ha! known!
Ulys.
Is that a wonder?
The providence that's in a watchful state,
Knows almost ev'ry grain of Pluto's gold;
Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deep;
Keeps place with thought; and almost like the gods
Does ev'n our thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles:
There is a mystery (with which relation
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state;
Which hath an operation more divine,
Than breath of pen can give expressure to.
All the commerce that you have had with Troy
As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord.
And better would it fit Achilles much,
To throw down Hector, than Polyxena.
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
When fame shall in his island sound her trump;
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,
Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;
But our great Ajax bravely beat down u noteHector.
-- 71 --
Farewel, my lord—I, as your lover, speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.
[Exit.
SCENE VIII.
Patr.
To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you;
A woman, impudent and mannish grown,
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
In time of act. I stand condemn'd for this;
They think my little stomach to the war,
And your great love to me, restrains you thus:
&plquo;Oh rouse your self; and the weak wanton Cupid
&plquo;Shall from your neck unloose his am'rous fold,
&plquo;And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
&plquo;Be shook to air.
Achil.
Shall Ajax fight with Hector!—
Patr.
Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.
Achil.
I see my reputation is at stake,
My fame is shrewdly gor'd.
Patr.
O then beware:
Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves:
Omission to do what is necessary
Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
Achil.
Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus:
I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
T'invite the Trojan lords, after the combat,
To see us here: I have a woman's longing,
An appetite that I am sick withal,
To see great Hector in the weeds of peace,
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Ev'n to my full of view.—A labour sav'd!
-- 72 --
SCENE IX.
Enter Thersites.
Ther.
A wonder!
Achil.
What?
Ther.
Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself.
Achil.
How so?
Ther.
He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector, and is so
prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in
saying nothing.
Achil.
How can that be?
Ther.
Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride
and a stand; ruminates like an hostess that hath no arithmetick
but her brain, to set down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politick
regard, as who should say, there were wit in his head, if
'twou'd out; and so there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire in
a flint, which will not shew without knocking. The man's undone
for ever: for if Hector break not his neck i'th' combat,
he'll break't himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I said,
good morrow Ajax. And he replies, thanks Agamemnon.
What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? he's
grown a very land-fish, language-less, a monster. A plague
of opinion, a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.
Achil.
Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.
Ther.
Who I?—why he'll answer no body; he professes not
answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in's
arms. I will put on his presence; let Patroclus make his demands
to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.
Achil.
To him, Patroclus—tell him, I humbly desire the valiant
Ajax, to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd
to my tent, and to procure safe conduct for his person of the
-- 73 --
magnanimous and most illustrious, six or seven times honour'd
captain, general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, &c. Do this.
Patr.
Jove bless great Ajax.
Ther.
Hum—
Patr.
I come from the worthy Achilles.
Ther.
Ha!
Patr.
Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his
tent.
Ther.
Hum—
Patr.
And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.
Ther.
Agamemnon!—
Patr.
Ay, my lord.
Ther.
Ha!
Patr.
What say you to't?
Ther.
God be wi'you, with all my heart.
Patr.
Your answer, Sir.
Ther.
If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven a clock it will go
one way or other; howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.
Patr.
Your answer, Sir.
Ther.
Fare ye well with all my heart.
Achil.
Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
Ther.
No, but he's out a tune thus; what musick will be in
him, when Hector has knock'd out his brains, I know not. But
I am sure none; unless the fidler Apollo get his sinews to make
Catlings on.
Achil.
Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.
Ther.
Let me carry another to his horse; for that's the more
capable creature.
Achil.
My mind is troubled like a fountain stirr'd,
And I my self see not the bottom of it.
[Exit.
Ther.
Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that
I might water an ass at it; I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than
such a valiant ignorance.
[Exeunt.
-- 74 --
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
TROY.
Enter at one door Æneas with a torch; at another, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomede with torches.
Paris.
See ho, who is that there?
Dei.
It is the lord Æneas.
Æne.
Is the prince there in person?
Had I so good occasion to lie long,
As you, prince Paris, nought but heav'nly business
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.
Dio.
That's my mind too: good-morrow, lord Æneas.
Par.
A valiant Greek, Æneas, take his hand;
Witness the process of your speech, wherein
You told, how Diomede a whole week, by days
Did haunt you in the field.
Æne.
Health to you, valiant Sir,
During all question of the gentle truce:
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance
As heart can think, or courage execute.
Dio.
The one and th'other Diomede embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm, and so long, health;
But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuit and policy.
Æne.
And thou shalt hunt a lion that will flie
With his face back in human gentleness:
-- 75 --
Welcome to Troy—now by Anchises' life,
Welcome indeed—by Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dio.
We sympathize. Jove, let Æneas live
(If to my sword his fate be not the glory)
A thousand compleat courses of the sun:
But in mine emulous honour let him die,
With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow.
Æne.
We know each other well.
Dio.
We do; and long to know each other worse.
Patr.
This is the most despightful, gentle greeting;
The noblest, hateful love, that e'er I heard of.
What business, lord, so early?
Æne.
I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not.
Par.
His purpose meets you; 'twas, to bring this Greek
To Calchas' house, and there to render him
(For the enfree'd Antenor) the fair Cressid.
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before. I constantly do think
(Or rather call my thought a certain knowledge)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night.
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality whereof; I fear
We shall be much unwelcome.
Æne.
That assure you.
Troilus had rather Troy were born to Greece,
Than Cressid born from Troy.
Par.
There is no help;
The bitter disposition of the time
Will have it so. On, lord, we'll follow you.
Æne.
Good morrow all.
[Exit.
Par.
And tell me, noble Diomede; tell me true,
-- 76 --
Ev'n in the soul of good sound fellowship,
Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen most?
My self, or Menelaus?
Dio.
Both alike.
He merits well to have her that doth seek her,
(Not making any scruple of her soilure,)
With such a hell of pain, and world of charge.
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the taste of her dishonour,)
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends.
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You, like a letcher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs no less nor more,
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.
Par.
You are too bitter to your country-woman.
Dio.
She's bitter to her country: hear me, Paris,
For ev'ry false drop in her baudy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,
A Trojan hath been slain. Since she could speak,
She hath not giv'n so many good words breath,
As, for her, Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.
Par.
Fair Diomede, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:
But we in silence hold this virtue well;
We'll not commend what we intend to sell.
Here lyes our way.
[Exeunt.
-- 77 --
SCENE II.
Enter Troilus and Cressida.
Troi.
Dear, trouble not your self; the morn is cold.
Cre.
Then, sweet my lord, I'll call my uncle down:
He shall unbolt the gates.
Troi.
Trouble him not—
To bed, to bed—sleep seal those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses,
As infants empty of all thought!
Cre.
Good-morrow then.
Troi.
I pr'ythee now to bed.
Cre.
Are you a weary of me?
Troi.
O Cressida! but that the busie day,
Wak'd by the lark, has rous'd the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
I would not from thee.
Cre.
Night hath been too brief.
Troi.
Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays
Tedious as hell; but flies the grasps of love,
With wings more momentary-swift than thought:
You will catch cold, and curse me.
Cre.
Pr'ythee tarry—you men will never tarry—
O foolish Cressida—I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark, there's one up.
Pan. within]
What's all the doors open here?
Troi.
It is your uncle.
Enter Pandarus.
Cre.
A pestilence on him; now will he be mocking;
I shall have such a life—
Pan.
How now, how now? how go maiden-heads? Hear you
maid; where's my cousin Cressid?
-- 78 --
Cre.
Go hang your self, you naughty mocking uncle:
You bring me to do—and then you flout me too.
Pan.
To do what? to do what? let her say what: What have
I brought you to do?
Cre.
Come come, beshrew your heart; you'll ne'er be good;
nor suffer others.
Pan.
Ha, ha! alas poor wretch; a poor Chipochia, hast not
sleept to-night? would he not (a naughty man) let it sleep? a bug-bear
take him.
[One knocks.
Cre.
Did I not tell you?—would he were knock'd o'th'
head—who's that at door?—good uncle, go and see.—My
lord, come you again into my chamber:—you smile and mock
me, as if I meant naughtily.
Troi.
Ha, ha—
Cre.
Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing.
How earnestly they knock—pray you come in.
[Knock.
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.
[Exeunt.
Pan.
Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the
door? how now? what's the matter?
SCENE III.
Enter Æneas.
Æne.
Good-morrow lord, good-morrow.
Pan.
Who's there? my lord Æneas? by my troth,
I knew you not; what news with you so early?
Æne.
Is not Prince Troilus here?
Pan.
Here! what should he do here?
Æne.
Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny him:
It doth import him much to speak with me.
Pan.
Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be
sworn; for my own part, I came in late: what should he do here?
Æne.
Who—nay, then:—come, come, you'll do him
-- 79 --
wrong, ere y'are aware: you'll be so true to him, to be false to
him: do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither, go.
Enter Troilus.
Troi.
How now? what's the matter?
Æne.
My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My matter is so harsh: there is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomede, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us, and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.
Troi.
Is it concluded so?
Æne.
By Priam, and the general state of Troy.
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
Troi.
How my atchievements mock me!
I will go meet them; and (my lord Æneas)
We met by chance, you did not find me here.
Æne.
Good, good, my lord; the secrets of x noteneighbour Pandar
Have not more gift in taciturnity.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
Pan.
Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost: the devil take Antenor;
the young prince will go mad: a plague upon Antenor; I
would they had broke's neck.
Cre.
How now? what's the matter? who was here?
Pan.
Ah, ah!—
Cre.
Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord? gone!
tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?
Pan.
Would I were as deep under the earth, as I am above.
-- 80 --
Cre.
O the gods! what's the matter?
Pan.
Pr'ythee get thee in; would thou had'st ne'er been born:
I knew thou would'st be his death. O poor gentleman! a plague
upon Antenor.
Cre.
Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees, I beseech you
what's the matter?
Pan.
Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone: thou
art chang'd for Antenor; thou must go to thy father, and be gone
from Troilus: 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot
bear it.
Cre.
O you immortal gods! I will not go.
Pan.
Thou must.
Cre.
I will not, uncle: I've forgot my father.
I know no touch of Consanguinity:
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falshood,
If ever she leave Troilus. Time and death,
Do to this body what extreams you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is, as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all to it. I'll go in and weep.
Pan.
Do, do.
Cre.
Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks,
Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart
With sounding Troilus. I'll not go from Troy.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Enter Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes.
Par.
It is great morning, and the hour prefixt
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
-- 81 --
Comes fast upon us: good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And haste her to the purpose.
Troi.
Walk into her house:
I'll bring her to the Grecian presently;
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there offering to it his heart.
Par.
I know what 'tis to love,
And would, as I shall pity, I could help.
Please you walk in, my lords.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
Pan.
Be moderate, be moderate.
Cre.
Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect that I taste,
And in its sense is no less strong, than that
Which causeth it. How can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief;
My love admits no qualifying y notedross.
Enter Troilus.
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
Pan.
Here, here, here he comes,—a sweet duck.—
Cre.
O Troilus, Troilus!
Pan.
What a pair of spectacles is here! let me embrace too:
Oh heart, (as the goodly saying is;)
O heart, O heavy heart,
Why sigh'st thou without breaking?
-- 82 --
where he answers again;
Because thou can'st not ease thy smart,
By friendship, nor by speaking.
There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing,
for we may live to have need of such a verse; we see it, we see it.
How now, lambs?
Troi.
Cressid, I love thee in so strange a purity;
That the blest gods, as angry with my fancy,
(More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities) take thee from me.
Cre.
Have the gods envy?
Pan.
Ay, ay, 'tis too plain a case.
Cre.
And is it true, that I must go from Troy?
Troi.
A hateful truth.
Cre.
What, and from Troilus too?
Troi.
From Troy, and Troilus.
Cre.
Is it possible?
Troi.
And suddenly: while injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoyndure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embraces, strangles our dear vows,
Ev'n in the birth of our own labouring breath.
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Each other bought, must poorly sell our selves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious Time, now with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thiev'ry up, he knows not how.
As many farewels as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up all in one loose adieu;
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
-- 83 --
Æneas within.]
My lord, is the lady ready?
Troi.
Hark, you are call'd. Some say, the Genius so
Cries, come, to him that instantly must die.
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
Pan.
Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my
heart will be blown up by the root.
Cre.
I must then to the Grecians?
Troi.
No remedy. When shall we see again?
Hear me, my love; be thou but true of heart—
Cre.
I true? how now? what wicked deem is this?
Troi.
Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us:—
I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee:
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart;
But be thou true, say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation: be thou true,
And I will see thee.
Cre.
O you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers
As infinite, as imminent: but I'll be true.
Troi.
And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
Cre.
And you this glove. When shall I see you?
Troi.
I will corrupt the Grecian centinels
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet be true.
Cre.
O heav'ns! be true again?
Troi.
Hear while I speak it, love:
The Grecian youths are full of subtle qualities,
They're loving, well compos'd, with gift of nature
Flowing, and swelling o'er with arts and exercise;
How novelties may move, and parts with person—
Alas, a kind of godly jealousie
-- 84 --
(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin)
Makes me afraid.
Cre.
O heav'ns, you love me not!
Troi.
Die I a villain then:
In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit: I can't sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt; nor sweeten talk;
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant.
But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,
That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.
Cre.
Do you think I will?
Troi.
No.
But something may be done that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to our selves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.
Æneas within.]
Nay, good my lord.
Troi.
Come kiss, and let us part.
Paris within.]
Brother Troilus.
Troi.
Good brother, come you hither,
And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you.
Cre.
My lord, will you be true?
Troi.
Who I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:
While others fish with craft for great opinion,
I, with great truth, catch meer simplicity.
While some with cunning gild their copper crowns,
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit
Is plain and true, there's all the reach of it.
-- 85 --
SCENE VII.
Enter Æneas, Paris, and Diomedes.
Welcome, Sir Diomede; here is the lady,
Whom for Antenor we deliver you.
At the port (lord) I'll give her to thy hand,
And by the way possess thee what she is.
Entreat her fair, and by my soul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Ilion.
Diom.
Lady Cressid,
So please you, save the thanks this prince expects:
The lustre in your eye, heav'n in your cheek,
Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomede
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
Troi.
Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,
To shame the seal of my petition towards thee
By praising her. I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises,
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant.
I charge thee use her well, even for my charge:
For by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
(Tho' the great bulk Achilles be thy guard)
I'll cut thy throat.
Diom.
Oh be not mov'd, prince Troilus.
Let me be privileg'd by my place and message,
To be a speaker free. When I am hence,
I'll answer to my list: and know, my lord,
I'll nothing do on charge; to her own worth
She shall be priz'd: but that you say, be't so;
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour—no.
-- 86 --
Troi.
Come to the port—I'll tell thee, Diomede,
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.
Lady, give me your hand—and as we walk,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
[Sound trumpet.
Par.
Hark, Hector's trumpet!
Æne.
How have we spent this morning?
The Prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him in the field.
Par.
'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, come to field with him.
Diom.
Let us make ready strait.
Æne.
Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels:
The glory of our Troy doth this day lye
On his fair worth, and single chivalry.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
The Grecian Camp.
Enter Ajax armed, Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor, Calchas, &c.
Aga.
Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,
Anticipating time. With starting courage,
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajax, that th' appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant,
And hale him hither.
Ajax.
Trumpet, there's my purse;
Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe:
Blow villain, 'till thy sphered bias cheek
Out-swell the cholick of puft Aquilon:
-- 87 --
Come stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood:
Thou blow'st for Hector.
Ulys.
No trumpet answers.
Achil.
'Tis but early day.
Enter Diomede and Cressida.
Aga.
Is not yond' Diomede with Calchas' daughter?
Ulys.
'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate,
He rises on his toe; that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
Aga.
Is this the lady Cressida?
Dio.
Ev'n she.
Aga.
Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.* note
-- 88 --
Dio.
Lady, a word—I'll bring you to your father—
Nest.
A woman of quick sense.
[Diomedes leads out Cressida, then returns.
Ulys.
Fie, fie upon her:
&plquo;There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip:
&plquo;Nay, her foot speaks, her wanton spirits look out
&plquo;At every joint, and motive of her body:
&plquo;Oh these Encounterers! So glib of tongue,
&plquo;They give a coasting welcome ere it comes;
&plquo;And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts,
&plquo;To every ticklish reader: set them down
&plquo;For sluttish spoils of opportunity,
&plquo;And daughters of the game.
Enter Hector, Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Helenus, and attendants.
All.
The Trojans trumpet!
Aga.
Yonder comes the troop.
Æne.
Hail all the state of Greece! what shall be done
To him that victory commands? do you purpose,
A victor shall be known? will you, the knights
Shall to the edge of all extremity
Pursue each other, or shall be divided
By any voice, or order of the field?
Hector bad ask.
-- 89 --
Aga.
Which way would Hector have it?
Æne.
He cares not; he'll obey conditions.
Aga.
'Tis done like Hector, but securely done,
A little proudly, and great deal misprizing
The knight oppos'd.
Æne.
If not Achilles, Sir, what is your name?
Achil.
If not Achilles, nothing.
Æne.
Therefore Achilles; but whate'er, know this;
In the extremity of great and little
Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector;
The one almost as infinite as all,
The other blank as nothing; weigh him well;
And that which looks like pride, is courtesie.
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood,
In love whereof, half Hector stays at home;
Half heart, half hand, half Hector, come to seek
This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
Achil.
A maiden battel then? O, I perceive you.
Aga.
Here is Sir Diomede: go, gentle knight,
Stand by our Ajax; as you and lord Æneas
Consent upon the order of their fight,
So be it; either to the uttermost,
Or else a breath. The combatants being kin
Half stints their strife before their strokes begin.
Ulys.
They are oppos'd already.
Aga.
What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?
Ulys.
The youngest son of Priam, a true knight;
Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word,
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue;
Not soon provok'd, nor being provok'd soon calm'd;
His heart and hand both open, and both free;
For what he has, he gives; what thinks, he shews;
Yet gives he not 'till judgment guide his bounty,
-- 90 --
Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath:
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;
For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes
To tender objects; but he in heat of action
Is more vindicative than jealous love.
They call him Troilus, and on him erect
A second hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus says Æneas, one that knows the youth
Ev'n to his inches; and with private soul,
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.
[Alarum.
SCENE IX.
Hector and Ajax fight.
Aga.
They are in action.
Nest.
Now Ajax hold thine own.
Troi.
Hector, thou sleep'st, awake thee.
Aga.
His blows are well dispos'd; there Ajax.
[Trumpets cease.
Dio.
You must no more.
Æne.
Princes, enough, so please you.
Ajax.
I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
Dio.
As Hector pleases.
Hect.
Why then, will I no more.
Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son;
A cousin-german to great Priam's seed:
The obligation of our blood forbids
A gory emulation 'twixt us twain;
Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so
That thou coud'st say, this hand is Grecian all,
And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg
All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood
Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister
-- 91 --
Bounds in my sire's: by Jove multipotent,
Thou should'st not bear from me a Greekish member,
Wherein my sword had not impressure made
Of our rank feud: But the just gods gainsay,
That any drop thou borrow'st from thy mother,
My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword
Be drain'd. Let me embrace thee, Ajax:
By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms;
Hector would have them fall upon him thus—
Cousin, all honour to thee.
Ajax.
I thank thee, Hector!
Thou art too gentle, and too free a man:
I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence
A great addition earned in thy death.
Hect.
Not Neoptolemus so mirable,
On whose bright crest, Fame with her loud'st O yes,
Cries, this is he, could promise to himself
A thought of added honour torn from Hector.
Æne.
There is expectance here from both the sides,
What further you will do.
Hect.
We'll answer it:
The issue is embracement: Ajax, farewel.
Ajax.
If I might in entreaties find success,
(As seld I have the chance) I would desire
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.
Dio.
'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles
Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector.
Hect.
Æneas, call my brother Troilus to me:
And signifie this loving interview
To the expectors of our Trojan part:
Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin:
I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.
-- 92 --
Agamemnon and the rest of the Greeks come forward.
Ajax.
Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
Hect.
The worthiest of them tell me name by name;
But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes
Shall find him by his large and portly size.
Aga.
Worthy all arms, as welcome as to one
That would be rid of such an enemy,
† noteBut that's no welcome: understand more clear,
What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks
And formless ruin of oblivion:
But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias drawing,
Bids thee with most divine integrity,
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.
Hect.
I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.
Aga.
My well-fam'd lord of Troy, no less to you.
[To Troi.
Men.
Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting,
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
Hect.
Whom must we answer?
Æne.
The noble Menelaus.
Hect.
O—you my lord—by Mars his gauntlet thanks.
Mock not, that I affect th' untraded oath;
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove.
She's well, but bad me not commend her to you.
Men.
Name her not now, Sir, she's a deadly theme.
Hect.
O pardon—I offend.
&plquo;Nest.
&plquo;I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft
&plquo;Labouring for destiny, make cruel way
&plquo;Through ranks of Greekish youth; and I have seen thee,
&plquo;As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed,
&plquo;Bravely despising forfeits and subduements,
&plquo;When thou hast hung thy advanc'd sword i'th' air,
-- 93 --
&plquo;Not letting it decline on the declin'd:
&plquo;That I have said unto my standers-by,
&plquo;Lo, Jupiter is yonder dealing life.
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greeks have hem'd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling. Thus I 've seen:
But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel,
I never saw 'till now. I knew thy grandsire,
And once fought with him; he was a soldier good,
But by great Mars, the captain of us all,
Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee,
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.
Æne.
'Tis the old Nestor.
Hect.
Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,
That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time:
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.
Nest.
I would my arms could match thee in contention,
As they contend with thee in courtesie.
Hect.
I would they could.
Nest.
By this white beard I'd fight with thee to-morrow.
Well, welcome, welcome; I have seen the time—
Ulys.
I wonder now how yonder city stands,
When we have here the base and pillar by us.
Hect.
I know your favour, lord Ulysses, well.
Ah, Sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,
Since first I saw your self and Diomede
In Ilion, on your Greekish embassie.
Ulys.
Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue.
My prophesie is but half his journey yet;
For yonder walls that pertly front your town,
Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds,
Must kiss their own feet.
Hect.
I must not believe you:
-- 94 --
There they stand yet; and modestly I think,
The fall of every Phygian stone will cost
A drop of Grecian blood; the end crowns all,
And that old common arbitrator, time,
Will one day end it.
Ulys.
So to him we leave it.
Most gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome;
After the general, I beseech you next
To feast with me, and see me at my tent.
Achil.
I shall forestal thee, lord Ulysses, thou:
Now Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee,
I have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector,
And quoted joint by joint.
Hect.
Is this Achilles?
Achil.
I am Achilles.
Hect.
Stand fair, I pr'ythee, let me look on thee.
Achil.
Behold thy fill.
Hect.
Nay, I have done already.
Achil.
Thou art too brief. I will the second time,
As I would buy thee, view thee, limb by limb.
Hect.
O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er:
But there's more in me than thou understand'st.
Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?
Achil.
Tell me, you heav'ns, in which part of his body
Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there,
That I may give the local wound a name,
And make distinct the very breach, where-out
Hector's great spirit flew. Answer me, heav'ns.
Hect.
It would discredit the blest gods, proud man,
To answer such a question: stand again.
Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly,
As to prenominate in nice conjecture,
Where thou wilt hit me dead?
-- 95 --
Achil.
I tell thee, yea.
Hect.
Wert thou the oracle to tell me so,
I'd not believe thee: henceforth guard thee well,
For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there;
But by the forge that stythied Mars his helm,
I'll kill thee every where, yea o'er and o'er.
You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag,
His insolence draws folly from my lips,
But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,
Or may I never—
Ajax.
Do not chafe thee, cousin;
And you, Achilles, let these threats alone
'Till accident or purpose bring you to't.
You may have ev'ry day enough of Hector,
If you have stomach. The general state, I fear,
Can scarce intreat you to be odd with him.
Hect.
I pray you, let us see you in the field:
We have had pelting wars since you refus'd
The Grecian's cause.
Achil.
Dost thou intreat me, Hector?
To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death;
To-night, all friends.
Hect.
Thy hand upon that match.
Aga.
First, all you peers of Greece go to my tent,
There in the full convive you; afterwards,
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall
Concur together, severally intreat him
To tast your bounties: let the trumpets blow;
That this great soldier may his welcome know.
[Exeunt.
-- 96 --
SCENE X.
Manent Troilus and Ulysses.
Troi.
My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
Ulys.
At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus;
There Diomede doth feast with him to-night;
Who neither looks on heav'n, nor on the earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of am'rous view
On the fair Cressid.
Troi.
Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to thee so much,
After you part from Agamemnon's tent,
To bring me thither?
Ulys.
You shall command me, Sir:
As gently tell me, of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy; had she no lover there,
That wails her absence?
Troi.
O Sir, to such as boasting shew their scars,
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord?
She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth.
But still, sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.
[Exeunt.
-- 97 --
ACT V.
SCENE I.
SCENE before Achilles's tent in the Grecian Camp.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Achilles.
I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,
Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
Patr.
Here comes Thersites.
Enter Thersites.
Achil.
How now, thou core of envy?
Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
Ther.
Why, thou picture of what thou seem'st, and idol of
idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee.
Achil.
From whence, fragment?
Ther.
Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
Patr.
Who keeps the tent now?
Ther.
The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound.
Patr.
Well said, adversity; and what need these tricks?
Ther.
Pr'ythee be silent, boy, I profit not by thy talk; thou
art thought to be Achilles's male-varlet.
Patr.
Male-varlet, you rogue? what's that?
Ther.
Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten diseases of
the south, guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i'th'
back, lethargies, cold palsies, † noteraw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing
lungs, bladders full of impostume, sciatica's, lime-kilns i'th'
palme, incurable bone-ake, and the rivell'd fee-simple of the
tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries.
-- 98 --
Patr.
Why, thou damnable box of envy thou, what mean'st
thou to curse thus?
Ther.
Do I curse thee?
Patr.
Why no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson indistinguishable
cur.
Ther.
No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial
skein of sley'd silk: thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye;
thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world
is pester'd with such water-flies, diminutives of nature.
Patr.
Out gall!
Ther.
Finch egg!
Achil.
My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in to-morrow's battel:
Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba,
A token from her daughter, my fair love,
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it,
Fall Greek, fail fame; honour, or go, or stay,
My major vow lyes here; this I'll obey.
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent,
This night in banqueting must all be spent.
Away, Patroclus.
[Exit.
Ther.
With too much blood, and too little brain, these two
may run mad: but if with too much brain, and too little blood,
they do, I'll be a curer of mad-men. Here's Agamemnon, an honest
fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he hath not so
much brain as ear-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter
there his brother, the bull, the primitive statue, and oblique memorial
of cuckolds; a thrifty shooing-horn in a chain, hanging
at his brother's leg; to what form, but that he is, should wit larded
with malice, and malice a notefarced with wit turn him to? to an
ass were nothing, he is both ass and ox; to an ox were nothing,
he is both ox and ass; to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a
-- 99 --
toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I
would not care: but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny.
Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care
not to be the lowse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus.—
Hey-day, spirits and fires!
SCENE II.
Enter Hector, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, and Diomede, with lights.
Aga.
We go wrong, we go wrong.
Ajax.
No, yonder 'tis, there where we see the light.
Hect.
I trouble you.
Ajax.
No, not a whit.
Enter Achilles.
Ulys.
Here comes himself to guide you.
Achil.
Welcome brave Hector, welcome princes all.
Aga.
So, now fair prince of Troy, I bid good-night.
Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.
Hect.
Thanks, and good-night to the Greek's general.
Men.
Good-night, my lord.
Hect.
Good-night, sweet lord Menelaus.
Ther.
Sweet draught—sweet quoth a—sweet sink, sweet sewer.
Achil.
Good-night, and welcome, both at once, to those that
go or tarry.
Aga.
Good-night.
Achil.
Old Nestor tarries, you too Diomede
Keep Hector company an hour or two.
Dio.
I cannot, lord, I have important business,
The tide whereof is now; good-night, great Hector.
Hect.
Give me your hand.
-- 100 --
Ulys.
Follow his torch, he goes to Calchas' tent:
I'll keep you company.
[To Troilus.
Troi.
Sweet Sir, you honour me.
Hect.
And so good-night.
Achil.
Come, come, enter my tent.
[Exeunt.
Ther.
That same Diomede's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust
knave: I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent
when he hisses: he will spend his mouth and promise, like
Brabler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretel it,
that it is prodigious, there will come some change: the sun borrows
of the moon, when Diomede keeps his word. I will rather
leave to see Hector, than not to dog him: they say, he keeps a
Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas his tent. I'll after—
Nothing but lechery; all incontinent varlets.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Calchas's Tent.
Enter Diomede.
Dio.
What are you up here, ho? speak.
Cal.
Who calls?
Dio.
Diomede; Calchas, I think; where's your daughter?
Cal.
She comes to you.
Enter Troilus and Ulysses, after them Thersites.
Ulys.
Stand where the torch may not discover us.
Enter Cressid.
Troi.
Cressid come forth to him?
Dio.
How now, my charge?
Cre.
Now my sweet guardian; hark, a word with you.
[Whispers.
Troi.
Yea, so familiar?
-- 101 --
Ulys.
She will sing to any man at first sight.
Ther.
And any man may b notesing to her, if he can take her
cliff. She's noted.
Dio.
Will you remember?
Cre.
Remember? yes.
Dio.
Nay, but do then; and let your mind be coupled with
your words.
Troi.
What should she remember?
Ulys.
List.
Cre.
Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.
Ther.
Roguery—
Dio.
Nay then.
Cre.
I'll tell you what.
Dio.
Fo, fo, come tell a pin, you are a forsworn—
Cre.
In faith I can't: what would you have me do?
Ther.
A jugling trick, to be secretly open.
Dio.
What did you swear you would bestow on me?
Cre.
I pr'ythee do not hold me to mine oath;
Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.
Dio.
Good-night.
Troi.
Hold, patience—
Ulys.
How now, Trojan?
Cre.
Diomede.
Dio.
No, no, good-night: I'll be your fool no more.
Troi.
Thy better must.
Cre.
Hark, one word in your ear.
Troi.
O plague and madness!
Ulys.
You are mov'd, prince; let us depart, I pray you,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge it self
To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly: I beseech you go.
Troi.
Behold, I pray you—
-- 102 --
Ulys.
Good my lord go off:
You fly to great distraction: come, my lord.
Troi.
I pr'ythee stay.
Ulys.
You have not patience; come.
Troi.
I pray you stay; by hell, and by hell's torments,
will not speak a word.
Dio.
And so good-night.
Cre.
Nay, but you part in anger.
Troi.
Doth that grieve thee? O wither'd truth!
Ulys.
Why, how now, lord?
Troi.
By Jove, I will be patient.
Cre.
Guardian—why Greek—
Dio.
Fo, fo, adieu, you palter.
Cre.
In faith, I do not: come hither once again.
Ulys.
You shake, my lord, at something; will you go?
You will break out.
Troi.
She stroaks his cheek.
Ulys.
Come, come.
Troi.
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 potato
finger tickles these together! fry, lechery, fry.
Dio.
But will you then?
Cre.
In faith I will come; never trust me else.
Dio.
Give me some token for the surety of it.
Cre.
I'll fetch you one.
[Exit.
Ulys.
You have sworn patience.
Troi.
Fear me not, sweet lord,
I will not be my self, nor have cognition
Of what I feel: I am all patience.
-- 103 --
SCENE IV.
Enter Cressida.
Ther.
Now the pledge; now, now, now.
Cre.
Here Diomede, keep this sleeve.
Troi.
O beauty! where's thy faith?
Ulys.
My lord.
Troi.
I will be patient, outwardly I will.
Cre.
You look upon that sleeve; behold it well:—
He lov'd me:—O false wench:—Give't me again.
Dio.
Whose was't?
Cre.
It is no matter, now I have't again.
I will not meet with you to-morrow night:
I pr'ythee, Diomede, visit me no more.
Ther.
Now she sharpens: well said whetstone.
Dio.
I shall have it.
Cre.
What, this?
Dio.
Ay, that.
Cre.
O all you gods—O pretty, pretty pledge;
Thy master now lyes thinking in his bed
Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove,
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it:
As I kiss thee.
Dio.
Nay, do not snatch it from me.
Cre.
He that takes that, must take my heart withal.
Dio.
I had your heart before, this follows it.
Troi.
I did swear patience.
Cre.
You shall not have it, Diomede: 'faith you shall not,
I'll give you something else.
Dio.
I will have this: whose was it?
Cre.
'Tis no matter.
Dio.
Come tell me whose it was?
-- 104 --
Cre.
'Twas one that lov'd me better than you will.
But now you have it, take it.
Dio.
Whose was it?
Cre.
By all Diana's waiting-women yonder,
And by her self, 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.
Troi.
Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on thy horn,
It should be challeng'd.
Cre.
Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past; and yet it is not—
I will not keep my word.
Dio.
Why then farewel,
Thou never shalt mock Diomede again.
Cre.
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 Pluto: but that that likes not you, pleases me
best.
Dio.
What, shall I come? the hour?
Cre.
Ay, come:—O Jove!—do, come:—I shall be plagu'd.
Dio.
Farewell 'till then.
[Exit.
Cre.
Good-night: I pr'ythee come.
Troilus, farewel; one eye yet looks on thee,
But with my heart the other eye doth see—
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.
SCENE V.
Ther.
A proof of strength she could not publish more;
Unless she say, my mind is now turn'd whore.
-- 105 --
Ulys.
All's done, my lord.
Troi.
It is.
Ulys.
Why stay we then?
Troi.
To make a recordation to my soul,
Of every syllable that here was spoke:
But if I tell how these two did co-act,
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 that test of eyes and ears;
As if those organs had deceptious functions,
Created only to calumniate.
Was Cressid here?
Ulys.
I cannot conjure, Trojan.
Troi.
She was not sure.
Ulys.
Most sure she was.
Troi.
Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.
Ulys.
Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was here but now.
Troi.
Let it not be believ'd, for woman-hood!
Think we had mothers; do not give advantage
To stubborn criticks, apt without a theme
For depravation, to square all the sex
By Cressid's rule. Rather think this not Cressid.
Ulys.
What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our mothers?
Troi.
Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
Ther.
Will he swagger himself out of his own eyes?
Troi.
This she? no, this is Diomede's Cressida.
If beauty have a soul, this is not she:
If souls guide vows, if vows are sanctimony,
If sanctimony be the gods delight,
If there be rule in unity it self,
This is not she. O madness of discourse!
That cause sets up with and against thy self!
-- 106 --
c noteBy-fold authority! where reason can revolt
Without perdition, loss assume all reason
Without revolt. This is, and is not Cressid.
Within my soul there doth commence a fight
Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate
Divides far wider than the sky and earth,
And yet the spacious breadth of this division
Admits no orifice for a point as subtle
As slight Arachne's broken woof, to enter.
Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates;
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heav'n:
Instance, O instance! strong as heav'n it self,
The bonds of heav'n are slip'd, dissolv'd and loos'd,
And with another knot five-finger-tied:
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasie reliques
Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomede.
Ulys.
May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
With that which here his passion doth express?
Troi.
Ay, Greek, and that shall be divulged well;
In characters, as red as Mars his heart
Inflam'd with Venus—ne'er 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 Diomede.
That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear in his helm:
Were it a cask compos'd by Vulcan's skill,
My sword should bite it: not the dreadful spout,
Which ship-men do the hurricano call,
Constring'd in mass by the almighty d notesun,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomede.
-- 107 --
Ther.
He'll tickle it for his concupy.
Troi.
O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false!
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,
And they'll seem glorious.
Ulys.
O contain your self:
Your passion draws ears hither.
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.
Troi.
Have with you, prince; my courteous lord adieu.
Farewel, revolted fair: and, Diomede,
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head.
Ulys.
I'll bring you to the gates.
Troi.
Accept distracted thanks.
[Exeunt Troilus, Æneas, and Ulysses.
Ther.
Would I could meet that rogue Diomede, 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:
letchery, letchery, still wars and letchery, nothing else holds
fashion. A burning devil take them!
[Exit.
SCENE VI.
TROY.
Enter Hector and Andromache.
And.
When was my lord so much ungently temper'd,
To stop his ears against admonishment?
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.
-- 108 --
Hect.
You train me to offend you; get you gone.
By all the everlasting gods, I'll go.
Ant.
My dreams will sure prove ominous to-day.
Hect.
No more, I say.
Enter Cassandra.
Cas.
Where is my brother Hector?
And.
Here sister, arm'd, and bloody in intent:
Consort with me in loud and dear petition;
Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt
Of bloody turbulence; and this whole night
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.
Cas.
O, 'tis true.
Hect.
Ho! bid my trumpet sound.
Cas.
No notes of sally, for the heav'ns, sweet brother.
Hect.
Be gone, I say: the gods have heard me swear.
Cas.
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
And.
O be perswaded, do not count it holy,
To hurt by being just; it were as lawful
For us to count we give what's gain'd by thefts,
And rob in the behalf of charity.
Cas.
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow;
But vows to every purpose must not hold:
Unarm, sweet Hector
Hect.
Hold you still, I say;
Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate;
Life every man holds dear, but the brave man
Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.
Enter Troilus.
How now, young man; mean'st thou to fight to-day?
-- 109 --
And.
Cassandra, call my father to perswade.
[Exit Cassandra.
Hect.
No faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth:
I am to-day i'th' vein of chivalry:
Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.
Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
I'll stand to-day, for thee, and me, and Troy.
Troi.
Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you;
Which better fits a lion, than a man.
Hect.
What vice is that? good Troilus, chide me for it.
Troi.
When many times the captive Grecians fall,
Ev'n in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
You bid them rise, and live.
Hect.
O, 'tis fair play.
Troi.
Fools-play, by heav'n, Hector.
Hect.
How now? how now?
Troi.
For love of all the gods,
Let's leave the hermit pity with our mothers;
And when we have our armours buckled on,
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords,
Spur them to ruful work, rein them from ruth.
Hect.
Fie, savage, fie.
Troi.
Hector, thus 'tis in wars.
Hect.
Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day.
Troi.
Who should with-hold me?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckning with fiery truncheon my retire,
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,
Their eyes o'er-galled with recourse of tears;
Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way,
But by my ruin.
-- 110 --
SCENE VII.
Enter Priam and Cassandra.
Cas.
Lay hold upon him, Priam hold him fast:
He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay,
Thou on him leaning and all Troy on thee,
Fall all together.
Priam.
Hector come, go back:
Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath had visions;
Cassandra doth foresee; and I my self,
Am like a prophet, suddenly enrapt
To tell thee that this day is ominous:
Therefore come back.
Hect.
Æneas is a-field,
And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks,
Ev'n in the faith of valour, to appear
This morning to them.
Priam.
But thou shalt not go.
Hect.
I must not break my faith:
You know me dutiful, therefore, dear Sir,
Let me not shame respect; but give me leave
To take that course by your consent and voice,
Which you do here forbid me, Royal Priam.
Cas.
O, Priam, yield not to him.
And.
Do not, dear father.
Hect.
Andromache, I am offended with you.
Upon the love you bear me, get you in.
[Exit Andromache.
Troi.
This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl,
Makes all these bodements.
Cas.
O farewel, dear Hector:
Look how thou diest; look how thy eyes turn pale!
Look how thy wounds do bleed at many vents!
-- 111 --
Hark how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out;
How poor Andromache shrills her dolour forth!
Behold distraction, frenzy and amazement,
Like witless anticks, one another meet,
And all cry, Hector, Hector's dead! O Hector!
Troi.
Away.
Cas.
Farewel: yet, soft: Hector, I take my leave;
Thou do'st thy self and all our Troy deceive.
[Exit.
Hect.
You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim:
Go in and cheer the town, we'll forth and fight;
Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night.
Priam.
Farewel: the gods with safety stand about thee.
[Alarum.
Troi.
They're at it, hark: proud Diomede, believe
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.
SCENE VIII.
Enter Pandarus.
Pand.
Do you hear, my lord? do you hear?
Troi.
What now?
Pand.
Here's a letter come from yond poor girl.
Troi.
Let me read.
Pand.
A whorson ptisick, a whorson rascally ptisick so troubles
me; and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing
and what another, that I shall leave you one o'these days;
and I have a rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ach in my
bones, that unless a man were curst, I cannot tell what to
think on't. What says she, there?
Troi.
Words, words, meer words; no matter from the heart.
Th' effect doth operate another way.
[Tearing the letter.
Go wind to wind, there turn and change together:
My love with words and errors still she feeds;
But edifies another with her deeds.
-- 112 --
Pand.
Why, but hear you—
Troi.
Hence, brothel, lacquy! ignominy and shame
Pursue thy life, and live ay with thy name.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
The field between Troy and the Camp.
[Alarum]
Enter Thersites.
Ther.
Now they are clapper-clawing one another, I'll go
look on: that dissembling abominable varlet, Diomede,
has got that same scurvy, doating, foolish young knave's
sleeve of Troy, there in his helm: I would fain see them meet,
that, that same young Trojan ass that loves the whore there,
might send that Greekish whore-masterly vallain, with the sleeve,
back to the dissembling luxurious drab, of a sleeveless errant.
O'th' t'other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals, that
stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese Nestor, and that same dog-fox
Ulysses, is not prov'd worth a blackberry. They set me up in policy
that mungril cur Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind,
Achilles. And now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles,
and will not arm to-day. Whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim
barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion.
Enter Diomede and Troilus.
Soft—here comes sleeve, and t'other.
Troi.
Fly not; for should'st thou take the river Styx,
I would swim after.
Dio.
Thou dost miscall Retire:
I do not fly, but advantagious care
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude;
Have at thee!
[They go off fighting
Ther.
Hold thy whore, Grecian: now for thy whore, Trojan:
now the sleeve, now the sleeve, now the sleeve!
-- 113 --
SCENE X.
Enter Hector.
Hect.
What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hector's match?
Art thou of blood and honour?
Ther.
No, no: I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very
filthy rogue.
Hect.
I do believe thee—live.
[Exit.
Ther.
God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague
break thy neck for frighting me! What's become of the
wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another.
I would laugh at that miracle—yet in a sort, letchery eats it self:
I'll seek them.
[Exit.
Enter Diomedes and Servant.
Dio.
Go go, my servant, take thou Troilus's horse,
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid:
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty:
Tell her, I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.
Ser.
I go, my lord.
SCENE XI.
Enter Agamemnon.
Aga.
Renew, renew: the fierce Polydamas
Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner,
And stands Colossus-wise, waving his beam
Upon the pashed coarses of the kings,
Epistropus and Odius. Polyxenus is slain;
Amphimachus and Thoas deadly hurt;
-- 114 --
Patroclus ta'en or slain, and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd; the dreadful e noteSagittary
Appals our numbers: haste we, Diomede,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Enter Nestor.
Nest.
Go bear Patroclus' body to Achilles,
And bid the snail'd-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.
There are a thousand Hectors in the field:
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse,
And there lacks work; anon he's there a-foot,
And there they fly or dye, like scaled shoals
Before the belching whale: then is he yonder,
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him, like the mower's swath;
Here, there, and ev'ry where, he leaves and takes;
Dexterity so obeying appetite,
That what he will, he does; and does so much,
That proof is call'd impossibility.
Enter Ulysses.
Ulys.
Oh, courage, courage, princes; great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance;
Patroclus' wounds have rowz'd his drowsie blood,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hackt and chipt, come to him,
Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it,
Roaring for Troilus, who hath done to-day
Mad and fantastick execution:
Engaging and redeeming of himself,
With such a careless force, and forceless care,
As if that luck in very spite of cunning
Bad him win all.
-- 115 --
SCENE XII.
Enter Ajax.
Ajax.
Troilus, thou coward Troilus.
[Exit.
Dio.
Ay, there, there.
Nest.
So, so, we draw together.
[Exeunt.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou boy-killer, shew me thy face:
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Hector, where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
[Exit.
Re-enter Ajax.
Ajax.
Troilus, thou coward Troilus, shew thy head.
Re-enter Diomede.
Dio.
Troilus, I say, where's Troilus?
Ajax.
What wouldst thou?
Dio.
I would correct him.
Ajax.
Were I the general, thou should'st have my office,
Ere that correction: Troilus, I say, what Troilus?
Enter Troilus.
Troi.
Oh traitor Diomede! turn thy false face, thou traitor,
And pay thy life, thou owest me for my horse.
Dio.
Ha, art thou there?
Ajax.
I'll fight with him alone: stand Diomede.
Dio.
He is my prize, I will not look upon.
Troi.
Come both you cogging Greeks, have at you both.
[Exeunt fighting.
Enter Hector.
Hect.
Yea, Troilus? O well fought! my youngest brother.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Now do I see thee; have at thee, Hector.
Hect.
Pause, if thou wilt.
[Fight.
-- 116 --
Achil.
I do disdain thy courtesie, proud Trojan.
Be happy that my arms are out of use,
My rest and negligence befriend thee now,
But thou anon shalt hear of me again:
Till when, go seek thy fortune.
Hect.
Fare thee well;
I would have been much more a fresher man,
Had I expected thee. How now, my brother?
Enter Troilus.
Troi.
Ajax hath ta'en Æneas; shall it be?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heav'n
He shall not carry him: I'll be taken too,
Or bring him off: Fate, hear me what I say;
I † notereck not, though thou end my life to-day.
[Exit.
Enter one in armour.
Hect.
Stand, stand, thou Greek, thou art a goodly mark:
No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well,
I'll frush it, and unlock the rivets all,
But I'll be master of it; wilt thou not, beast, abide?
Why then fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide.
[Exit.
Enter Achilles with Myrmidons.
Achil.
Come here about me, you my Myrmidons.
Mark what I say, attend me where I wheel;
Strike not a stroke, but keep your selves in breath;
And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Empale him with your weapons round about:
In fellest manner execute your arms.
Follow me, sirs, and my proceeding eye:
It is decreed—Hector the great must dye.
[Exeunt.
-- 117 --
SCENE XIII.
Enter Thersites, Menelaus and Paris.
Ther.
The cuckold, and the cuckold-maker are at it: now
bull, now dog; 'loo, Paris, 'loo; now my double-hen'd g notesparrow;
'loo, Paris, 'loo; the bull has the game: 'ware horns, ho.
[Ex. Paris and Menelaus.
Enter Bastard.
Bast.
Turn, slave, and fight.
Ther.
What art thou?
Bast.
A bastard son of Priam's.
Ther.
I am a bastard too, I love bastards. I am a bastard begot,
bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in
every thing illegitimate: one bear will not bite another, and wherefore
should one bastard? take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us:
If the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment:
farewel bastard.
Bast.
The devil take thee coward.
[Exeunt.
SCENE XIV.
Enter Hector.
Hect.
Most putrified core! so fair without:—
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day's work done; I'll take my breath:
Rest sword, thou hast thy fill of blood and death.
Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons.
Achil.
Look Hector, now the sun begins to set;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Ev'n with the veil and darkning of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
[They fall upon Hector and kill him.
-- 118 --
Hect.
I am unarm'd, forego this vantage, Greek.
Achil.
Strike, fellows, strike, this is the man I seek.
So, Ilion, fall thou next. Now, Troy, sink down:
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews and thy bone.
On Myrmidons, and cry you all amain,
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.
[Exeunt.
Hark, a retreat upon our Grecian part.
Myr.
The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.
Achil.
The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth;
And, stickler-like, the armies separate;* note
Come, tye his body to my horse's tail:
Along the field I will the Trojan trail.
[Exeunt.
[Sound retreat. Shout.
Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomede, and the rest, marching.
Aga.
Hark, hark, what shout is that?
Nest.
Peace, drums.
Sol.
Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles!
Dio.
The bruit is, Hector's slain, and by Achilles.
Ajax.
If it is so, yet bragless let it be:
Great Hector was as good a man as he.
Aga.
March patiently along; let one be sent
To pray Achilles see us at our tent.
If in his death the gods have us befriended,
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.
[Exeunt.
SNENE XV.
Enter Æneas, Paris, Antenor and Deiphobus.
Æne.
Stand ho, yet are we masters of the field,
Never go home, here starve we out the night.
-- 119 --
Enter Troilus.
Troi.
Hector is slain.
All.
Hector!—the gods forbid!
Troi.
He's dead, and at the murtherer's horse's tail
In beastly sort dragg'd through the shameful field.
Frown on, you heav'ns, effect your rage with speed;
Sit gods upon your thrones, and smile at Troy.
I say at once, let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on.
Æne.
My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
Troi.
You understand me not, that tell me so:
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death,
But dare all imminence, that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone!
Who shall tell Priam so? or Hecuba?
Let him that will a scrietch-owl ay be call'd,
Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead:
That is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives;
Cold statues of the youth; and in a word,
Scare Troy out of it self. But march away,
Hector is dead: there is no more to say.
Stay yet, you vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains:
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you. And thou, great-siz'd coward!
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates,
I'll haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frensy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
Enter Pandarus.
Pan.
But hear you, hear you?
-- 120 --
Troi.
Hence, brothel, lacky; ignominy, shame
[Strikes him.
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.
[Exeunt.
Pan.
A goodly med'cine for mine aking bones! Oh world!
world! world! thus is the poor agent despis'd: Oh, traitors and
bawds, how earnestly are you set at work, and how ill requited? why
should our endeavour be so lov'd, and the performance so loath'd?
what verse for it? what instance for it?—let me see—
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
'Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;
But being once subdu'd in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths—
As many as be here of Pandar's hall,
Your eyes half out, weep out at Pandar's fall;
Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aking bones.
Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade,
Some two months hence my will shall here be made:
It should be now; but that my fear is this,
† noteSome galled goose of Winchester would hiss;
'Till then, I'll sweat, and seek about for eases,
And at that time bequeath you my diseases.
[Exit.
