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 --
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
