Introductory matter
note
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INTRODUCTION.
We will first state the facts respecting the early impressions of
“Troilus and Cressida,” and then make such observations upon them
as seem necessary.
The play was originally printed in 1609. It was formerly supposed
that there were two editions in that year, but they were merely
different issues of the same impression: the body of the work (with
two exceptions, pointed out hereafter) is alike in each; they were
from the types of the same printer, and were published by the same
booksellers. The title-pages, as may be seen on the opposite leaf,
vary materially; but there is another more remarkable alteration.
On the title-page of the copies first circulated, it is not stated that
the drama had been represented by any company; and in a sort of
preface headed, “A never Writer to an ever Reader. News,” it is
asserted that it had never been “staled with the stage, never
clapper-clawed with the palms of the vulgar;” in other words, that
the play had not been acted. This was probably then true; but as
“Troilus and Cressida” was very soon afterwards brought upon the
stage, it became necessary for the publishers to substitute a new
title-page, and to suppress their preface: accordingly a re-issue of
the same edition took place, by the title-page of which it appeared,
that the play was printed “as it was acted by the King's Majesty's
servants at the Globe.”
In the Stationers' Registers are two entries, of distinct dates,
relating to a play, or plays, called “Troilus and Cressida:” they are
in the following terms:—
“7 Feb. 1602–3
“Mr. Roberts] The booke of Troilus and Cresseda, as yt is
acted by my Lo. Chamberlens men.”
“28 Jan. 1608–9
“Rich. Bonion and Hen. Whalleys] Entered for their copie
under t'hands of Mr. Segar Deputy to Sir Geo. Bucke,
and Mr. Warden Lownes: A booke called the History
of Troylus and Cressula.”
The edition of 1609 was, doubtless, published in consequence of
the entry of “28 Jan. 1608–9;” but if Roberts printed a “Troilus
and Cressida,” whether by Shakespeare or by any other dramatist,
in consequence of the earlier entry of “7 Feb. 1602–3,” none such
has come down to our time. Shakespeare's tragedy was not again
-- 4 --
printed, as far as can now be ascertained, until it appeared, under
rather peculiar circumstances, in the folio of 1623.
In that volume the dramatic works of Shakespeare, as is well
known, are printed in three divisions—“Comedies,” “Histories,”
and “Tragedies;” and a list of them, under those heads, is inserted
at the commencement. In that list “Troilus and Cressida” is not
found; and it is farther remarkable, that it is inserted near the
middle of the folio of 1623, without any paging, excepting that the
second leaf is numbered 79 and 80: the signatures also do not correspond
with any others in the series. Hence it was inferred by
Farmer, that the insertion of “Troilus and Cressida” was an afterthought
by the player-editors, and that when the rest of the folio
was printed, they had not intended to include it. It seems to us,
that there is no adequate ground for this notion, and that the peculiar
circumstances to which we have alluded may be sufficiently accounted
for by the supposition, that “Troilus and Cressida” was given to,
and executed by, a different printer. The paging of the folio of 1623
is in several places irregular, and in the division of “Tragedies” (at
the head of which “Troilus and Cressida” is placed) there is a mistake
of 100 pages. The list of “Comedies,” “Histories,” and “Tragedies,”
at the beginning of the volume was most likely printed last,
and the person who formed it accidentally omitted “Troilus and
Cressida,” because it had been as accidentally omitted in the pagination.
No copy of the folio of 1623 is, we believe, known, which
does not contain “Troilus and Cressida:” it is not there divided into
acts and scenes, although at the commencement of the piece we have
Actus Primus, Scœna Prima.
Such are the facts connected with the appearance of the tragedy in
quarto and folio. It seems very evident that “Troilus and Cressida”
was acted in the interval between the first and the second issue of
the quarto, as printed by G. Eld for Bonian and Walley in the
early part of 1609. It is probable that our great dramatist prepared
it for the stage in the winter of 1608–9, with a view to its production
at the Globe as soon as the season commenced at that theatre: before
it was so produced, and after it had been licensed1 note, Bonian and
Walley seem to have possessed themselves of a copy of it; and
having procured it to be printed, issued it to the world as “a new
play, never staled with the stage, never clapper-clawed with the
palms of the vulgar.” That they had obtained it without the consent
of the company, “the grand possessors,” as they are called,
may be gathered from the conclusion of the preface. The second
-- 5 --
issue of Bonian and Walley's edition of 1609 was not made until
after the tragedy had been acted at the Globe, as is stated on the
title-page. This is an easy and intelligible mode of accounting for
the main differences in the quarto copies; and it enables us with
some plausibility to conjecture, that the date when Shakespeare
wrote “Troilus and Cressida” was not long before it was first represented,
and a still shorter time before it was first printed.
Some difficulty has arisen out of the entry, already quoted, of a
“Troilus and Cressida” in the Stationers' books, with the date of
7th Feb. 1602–3, in which entry it is stated that the play was
“acted by the Lord Chamberlain's servants;” the company to
which Shakespeare belonged having been so denominated anterior to
the license of James I. in May, 1603. This circumstance formed
Malone's chief ground for contending that Shakespeare wrote his
“Troilus and Cressida” in 1602. It may, however, be reasonably
inferred that this was a different play on the same subject. Every
body must be struck with the remarkable inequality of some parts of
Shakespeare's “Troilus and Cressida,” especially towards the conclusion:
they could hardly have been written by the pen which produced
the magnificent speeches of Ulysses and other earlier portions,
and were probably relics of a drama acted by the Lord Chamberlain's
servants about 1602, and in the spring of 1603 intended to be printed
by Roberts. In April and May, 1599, it appears by Henslowe's Diary
that he paid various sums to Dekker and Chettle for a play they
were then writing under the title of “Troilus and Cressida:” it may be
concluded that it was soon afterwards acted by the Earl of Nottingham's
players, for whom it was composed; and the “Troilus and Cressida,”
entered by Roberts on 7th Feb. 1602–3, may have been a
tragedy, not by Shakespeare, brought out by the Lord Chamberlain's
servants at the Globe, in competition with their rivals at the
Rose or Fortune. Of this piece it is not impossible that Shakespeare
in some degree availed himself; and he might be too much in haste
to have time to alter and improve all that his own taste and genius
would otherwise have rejected.
This brings us to the question of the source from which Shakespeare
derived his plot: how far he did, or did not, follow the older
play we suppose him to have employed, it is not possible to determine.
In 1581 “a proper ballad, dialogue-wise, between Troilus
and Cressida” was entered on the Stationers' Registers by Edward
White, and in the lax form of expression of that day this may have
been a dramatic performance. More than a century earlier, viz. in
1471, Caxton had printed his “Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye,”
which at various dates, and in a cheap form, was reprinted. Lydgate's
“History, Sege, and Destruccyon of Troye” came from
Pynson's press in 1513; but Shakespeare seems to have been so
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attentive a reader of Chaucer's five books of “Troylus and Creseyda”
(of which the last edition, anterior to the production of
Shakespeare's play, appeared in 1602) as to have been considerably
indebted to them. It is not easy to trace any direct or indirect obligations
on the part of Shakespeare to Chapman's translation of
Homer, of which the earliest portion came out in 1598. It is well
known that the adventures of Troilus and Cressida are not any where
mentioned in the Iliad.
After adverting to the real or supposed origin of the story of
“Troilus and Cressida,” Coleridge remarks in his Literary Remains,
vol. ii. p. 130, that it “can scarcely be classed with his dramas of
Greek and Roman History; but it forms an intermediate link between
the fictitious Greek and Roman Histories, which we may call
legendary dramas, and the proper ancient histories; that is, between
the Pericles or Titus Andronicus, and the Coriolanus or Julius
Cæsar.” He then adverts to the characters of the hero and heroine,
and the purpose Shakespeare had in view in pourtraying them, and
goes on to observe:—“I am half inclined to believe that Shakespeare's
main object, or shall I rather say, his ruling impulse, was
to translate the poetic heroes of paganism into the not less rude, but
more intellectually vigorous, and more featurely, warriors of Christian
chivalry,—and to substantiate the distinct and graceful profiles
or outlines of the Homeric epic into the flesh and blood of the
romantic drama,—in short, to give a grand history-piece in the
robust style of Albert Durer.” Consistently in some degree with
this opinion, Schlegel remarks, that “the whole play is one continued
irony of the crown of all heroic tales—the tale of Troy,” and after
dwelling briefly upon this point, he adds:—“in all this let no man
conceive that any indignity was intended to Homer: Shakespeare
had not the Iliad before him, but the chivalrous romances of the
Trojan war derived from Dares Phrygius.” Shakespeare, in fact,
found the story popular, and he applied it to a popular purpose in a
popular manner.
One reason for thinking that “Troilus and Cressida” came from
the hands of a different printer, though little or no distinction can be
traced in the type, is that there is hardly any play in the folio of
1623 which contains so many errors of the press. The quarto of
1609 was unquestionably the foundation of the text of the folio, for in
various instances the latter adopts the literal blunders of the former:
it besides introduces not a few important corruptions, for which it is
not easy to account, so that the language of Shakespeare, on the
whole, is perhaps best represented in the quarto. There are, however,
some valuable additions in the folio, not found in the quarto,
while on the other hand the quarto contains passages omitted in the
folio, though sometimes absolutely necessary to the sense. The variations,
-- 7 --
whether important or comparatively insignificant, are noted
at the foot of the page; but there are two instances deserving notice
in which our text differs from that of all preceding editions. It
has been thought that the quarto impressions of 1609, as far as
regards the body of the play, are identical. Such is not precisely
the case, and a copy of the drama issued after it had been “acted
by the King's Majesty's servants at the Globe,” belonging to the Duke
of Devonshire, contains two valuable improvements of the text, as it
had been given in the earlier copies published before it had been
performed. The first of these occurs in Act iii. sc. 2, where Troilus,
anticipating the entrance of Cressida, exclaims, as we find the passage
in all modern editions,
“I am giddy: expectation whirls me round.
Th' imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense: what will it be
When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice-reputed nectar?”
For “thrice-reputed nectar,” the Duke of Devonshire's copy of
the quarto, 1609, has “thrice-repured nectar,” or thrice purified and
refined nectar. The other instance of the same kind occurs near the
end of the play (Act v. sc. 7.) where Achilles is exciting his armed
Myrmidons to the slaughter of Hector, and tells them,
“Empale him with your weapons round about:
In fellest manner execute your arms.”
Thus it stands in all editions, from the folio of 1623 downwards, and
the commentators have been at some pains to explain the phrase
“execute your arms,” when in truth, as Steevens suspected, it is
nothing but a misprint for “execute your aims,” as appears upon
the authority of the quarto, 1609, in the Collection of the Duke of
Devonshire: for Achilles, to charge his followers to encircle Hector
with their weapons, and then to execute their aims against him in
the fellest manner, requires no explanation, and is an improvement
of the received text. This copy of the second issue of the quarto,
1609, seems originally to have belonged to Humphry Dyson, a
curious collector, who considerably outlived Shakespeare, and who
registers on the title-page, with the attestation of his signature, that
“Troilus and Cressida” was “printed amongest the workes” of
Shakespeare, referring of course to the folio of 1623.
Dryden produced an alteration of “Troilus and Cressida” at the
Dorset Garden Theatre in 1679, and it was printed in the same
year: in the preface he states that he had “refined Shakespeare's
language, which before was obsolete.”
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ADDRESS PREFIXED TO SOME COPIES OF THE EDITION OF 1609.
A never Writer to an ever Reader. News2 note.
Eternal reader, you have here a new play, never staled with the
stage, never clapper-clawed with the palms of the vulgar, and yet
passing full of the palm comical; for it is a birth of your brain, that
never undertook any thing comical vainly: and were but the vain
names of comedies changed for the titles of commodities, or of plays
for pleas, you should see all those grand censors, that now style
them such vanities, flock to them for the main grace of their gravities;
especially this author's comedies, that are so framed to the
life, that they serve for the most common commentaries of all the
actions of our lives, showing such a dexterity and power of wit, that
the most displeased with plays are pleased with his comedies. And
all such dull and heavy-witted worldlings, as were never capable of
the wit of a comedy, coming by report of them to his representations,
have found that wit there that they never found in themselves, and
have parted better-witted than they came; feeling an edge of wit set
upon them, more than ever they dreamed they had brain to grind it
on. So much and such savoured salt of wit is in his comedies, that
they seem (for their height of pleasure) to be born in that sea that
brought forth Venus. Amongst all there is none more witty than
this; and had I time I would comment upon it, though I know it
needs not, (for so much as will make you think your testern well
-- 9 --
bestowed) but for so much worth, as even poor I know to be stuffed
in it. It deserves such a labour, as well as the best comedy in
Terence or Plautus: and believe this, that when he is gone, and his
comedies out of sale, you will scramble for them, and set up a new
English inquisition3 note. Take this for a warning, and at the peril of
your pleasure's loss, and judgment's, refuse not, nor like this the
less for not being sullied with the smoky breath of the multitude;
but thank fortune for the scape it hath made amongst you, since by
the grand possessors' wills, I believe, you should have prayed for
them, rather than been prayed4 note. And so I leave all such to be
prayed for (for the states of their wits' healths) that will not praise
it.—Vale.
-- 10 --
1 note.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
PRIAM, King of Troy.
HECTOR, his Son.
TROILUS, his Son.
PARIS, his Son.
DEIPHOBUS, his Son.
HELENUS, his Son.
ÆNEAS [Aeneas], Trojan Commander.
ANTENOR, Trojan Commander.
CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking part with the Greeks.
PANDARUS, Uncle to Cressida.
MARGARELON, a Bastard Son of Priam.
AGAMEMNON, the Grecian General.
MENELAUS, his Brother.
ACHILLES, Grecian Commander.
AJAX, Grecian Commander.
ULYSSES, Grecian Commander.
NESTOR, Grecian Commander.
DIOMEDES, Grecian Commander.
PATROCLUS, Grecian Commander.
THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.
ALEXANDER, Servant to Cressida.
Servant to Troilus [Boy]; Servant to Paris; Servant to Diomedes.
HELEN, Wife to Menelaus.
ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector.
CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam; a Prophetess.
CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas.
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.
[Servant], [Myrmidon]
SCENE, Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it.
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TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
1 note.
THE PROLOGUE
In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf'd,
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships,
Fraught with the ministers and instruments
Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore
Their crownets regal, from th' Athenian bay
Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made,
To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures
The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,
With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.
To Tenedos they come,
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan plains
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,
Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan,
And Antenorides, with massy staples
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
Sperr up the sons of Troy2 note
.
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits
On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,
-- 12 --
Sets all on hazard.—And hither am I come
A prologue arm'd3 note,—but not in confidence
Of author's pen, or actor's voice, but suited
In like conditions as our argument,—
To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt4 note and firstlings of those broils,
Beginning in the middle; starting thence away
To what may be digested in a play.
Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are;
Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.
-- 13 --
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Troy. Before Priam's Palace.
Enter Troilus armed, and Pandarus.
Tro.
Call here my varlet1 note; I'll unarm again:
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
That find such cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan, that is master of his heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none.
Pan.
Will this gear ne'er be mended2 note?
Tro.
The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance;
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy.
Pan.
Well, I have told you enough of this: for my
part, I'll not meddle nor make no farther. He, that
will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the
grinding3 note.
-- 14 --
Tro.
Have I not tarried?
Pan.
Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the
bolting.
Tro.
Have I not tarried?
Pan.
Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Tro.
Still have I tarried.
Pan.
Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet in the
word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake,
the heating the oven, and the baking: nay, you must
stay the cooling too, or you may chance burn your lips.
Tro.
Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
Doth lesser blench4 note at sufferance than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I sit;
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,—
So, traitor!—when she comes!—When is she thence 11Q08225 note?
Pan.
Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I
saw her look, or any woman else.
Tro.
I was about to tell thee,—when my heart,
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have (as when the sun doth light a storm6 note)
Bury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile;
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
Pan.
An her hair were not somewhat darker than
Helen's, (well, go to) there were no more comparison
between the women,—but, for my part, she is my
kinswoman: I would not, as they term it, praise her7 note,
—but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday,
-- 15 --
as I did: I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's
wit, but—
Tro.
O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,—
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Cressid's love: thou answer'st, she is fair;
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;
Handlest in thy discourse, O! that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach: to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'st me,
As true thou tell'st me, when I say—I love her;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm8 note,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it.
Pan.
I speak no more than truth.
Tro.
Thou dost not speak so much.
Pan.
'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she
is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not,
she has the 'mends in her own hands.
Tro.
Good Pandarus. How now, Pandarus!
Pan.
I have had my labour for my travail; ill-thought
on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between
and between, but small thanks for my labour.
Tro.
What! art thou angry, Pandarus? what with me?
Pan.
Because she's kin to me, therefore, she's not
so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me9 note, she
would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday.
But what care I? I care not, an she were a black-a-moor;
'tis all one to me.
-- 16 --
Tro.
Say I, she is not fair?
Pan.
I do not care whether you do or no. She's a
fool to stay behind her father: let her to the Greeks;
and so I'll tell her the next time I see her. For my
part, I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter.
Tro.
Pandarus,—
Pan.
Not I.
Tro.
Sweet Pandarus,—
Pan.
Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave
all as I found it, and there an end.
[Exit Pandarus. An Alarum.
Tro.
Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds!
Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument;
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus—O gods, how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar;
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo,
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl:
Between our Ilium, and where she resides,
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
Alarum. Enter Æneas.
Æne.
How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield?
Tro.
Because not there: this woman's answer sorts1 note,
For womanish it is to be from thence.
-- 17 --
What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?
Æne.
That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Tro.
By whom, Æneas?
Æne.
Troilus, by Menelaus.
Tro.
Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.
[Alarum.
Æne.
Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day!
Tro.
Better at home, if “would I might,” were “may.”—
But to the sport abroad:—are you bound thither?
Æne.
In all swift haste.
Tro.
Come; go we, then, together.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
11Q0823
The Same. A Street.
Enter Cressida and Alexander.
Cres.
Who were those went by?
Alex.
Queen Hecuba, and Helen.
Cres.
And whither go they?
Alex.
Up to the eastern tower,
Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
Is as a virtue fix'd, to-day was mov'd:
He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the sun rose, he was harness'd light2 note,
And to the field goes he; where every flower
Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw
-- 18 --
In Hector's wrath.
Cres.
What was his cause of anger?
Alex.
The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;
They call him, Ajax.
Cres.
Good; and what of him?
Alex.
They say he is a very man per se,
And stands alone.
Cres.
So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, or
have no legs.
Alex.
This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of
their particular additions: he is as valiant as the lion,
churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant; a man into
whom nature hath so crowded humours, that his valour
is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion:
there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a
glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some
stain of it. He is melancholy without cause, and merry
against the hair: he hath the joints of every thing;
but every thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty
Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblind Argus3 note,
all eyes and no sight.
Cres.
But how should this man, that makes me
smile, make Hector angry?
Alex.
They say, he yesterday coped Hector in the
battle, and struck him down; the disdain and shame
whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and
waking.
Enter Pandarus.
Cres.
Who comes here?
Alex.
Madam, your uncle, Pandarus.
Cres.
Hector's a gallant man.
Alex.
As may be in the world, lady.
-- 19 --
Pan.
What's that? what's that?
Cres.
Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
Pan.
Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you
talk of?—Good morrow, Alexander.—How do you,
cousin? When were you at Ilium4 note?
Cres.
This morning, uncle.
Pan.
What were you talking of, when I came?
Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium?
Helen was not up, was she?
Cres.
Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.
Pan.
E'en so: Hector was stirring early.
Cres.
That were we talking of, and of his anger.
Pan.
Was he angry?
Cres.
So he says, here.
Pan.
True, he was so; I know the cause too: he'll
lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there's
Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take
heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too.
Cres.
What, is he angry too?
Pan.
Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of
the two.
Cres.
O, Jupiter! there's no comparison.
Pan.
What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do
you know a man if you see him?
Cres.
Ay; if I ever saw him before, and knew him.
Pan.
Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.
Cres.
Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is
not Hector.
Pan.
No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees.
Cres.
'Tis just to each of them; he is himself.
Pan.
Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he were,—
Cres.
So he is.
Pan.
—Condition, I had gone bare-foot to India.
Cres.
He is not Hector.
-- 20 --
Pan.
Himself? no, he's not himself.—Would 'a
were himself! Well, the gods are above; time must
friend, or end. Well, Troilus, well.—I would, my
heart were in her body!—No, Hector is not a better
man than Troilus.
Cres.
Excuse me.
Pan.
He is elder.
Cres.
Pardon me, pardon me.
Pan.
Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me
another tale, when th' other's come to't. Hector shall
not have his wit5 note this year.
Cres.
He shall not need it, if he have his own.
Pan.
Nor his qualities.
Cres.
No matter.
Pan.
Nor his beauty.
Cres.
'Twould not become him; his own's better.
Pan.
You have no judgment, niece. Helen herself
swore th' other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour,
(for so 'tis, I must confess)—not brown neither—
Cres.
No, but brown.
Pan.
'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
Cres.
To say the truth, true and not true.
Pan.
She prais'd his complexion above Paris.
Cres.
Why, Paris hath colour enough.
Pan.
So he has.
Cres.
Then, Troilus should have too much: if she
praised 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 lief
Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a
copper nose.
Pan.
I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better
than Paris.
Cres.
Then she's a merry Greek, indeed6 note.
-- 21 --
Pan.
Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him
th' other day into the compassed window7 note;—and, you
know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin.
Cres.
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.
Cres.
Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter8 note?
Pan.
But, to prove to you that Helen loves him:—
she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven
chin,—
Cres.
Juno have mercy!—How came it cloven?
Pan.
Why, you know, 'tis dimpled. I think his
smiling becomes him better than any man in all
Phrygia.
Cres.
O! he smiles valiantly.
Pan.
Does he not?
Cres.
O! yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.
Pan.
Why, go to then.—But to prove to you that
Helen loves Troilus,—
Cres.
Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove
it so.
Pan.
Troilus? why, he esteems her no more than I
esteem an addle egg.
Cres.
If you love an addle egg as well as you love
an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the shell.
Pan.
I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she
tickled his chin:—indeed, she has a marvellous white
hand, I must needs confess.
Cres.
Without the rack.
Pan.
And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on
his chin.
-- 22 --
Cres.
Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.
Pan.
But, there was such laughing: queen Hecuba
laughed, that her eyes ran o'er.
Cres.
With mill-stones.
Pan.
And Cassandra laughed.
Cres.
But there was more temperate fire under the
pot of her eyes: did her eyes run o'er too?
Pan.
And Hector laughed.
Cres.
At what was all this laughing?
Pan.
Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on
Troilus' chin.
Cres.
An't had been a green hair I should have
laughed too.
Pan.
They laughed not so much at the hair, as at
his pretty answer.
Cres.
What was his answer?
Pan.
Quoth she, “Here's but two and fifty hairs on
your chin, and one of them is white.”
Cres.
This is her question.
Pan.
That's true; make no question of that. “Two
and fifty hairs,” quoth he, “and one white: that white
hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons9 note.” “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 blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the
rest so laughed, that it passed.
Cres.
So let it now, for it has been a great while
going by1 note.
Pan.
Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday;
think on't.
-- 23 --
Cres.
So I do.
Pan.
I'll be sworn, 'tis true: he will weep you, an
'twere a man born in April.
Cres.
And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a
nettle against May.
[A retreat sounded.
Pan.
Hark! they are coming from the field. Shall
we stand up here, and see them, as they pass toward
Ilium? good niece, do; sweet niece Cressida.
Cres.
At your pleasure.
Pan.
Here, here; here's an excellent place: here
we may see most bravely. I'll tell you them all by their
names, as they pass by, but mark Troilus above the rest.
Cres.
Speak not so loud.
Æneas passes over the Stage.
Pan.
That's Æneas. Is not that a brave man? he's
one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you2 note: but mark
Troilus; you shall see anon.
Cres.
Who's that?
Antenor passes over.
Pan.
That's Antenor: he has a shrewd wit, I can
tell you; and he's a man good enough: he's one o'the
soundest judgment in Troy, whosoever, and a proper
man of person. 11Q0824—When comes Troilus?—I'll show you
Troilus anon: if he see me, you shall see him nod at me.
Cres.
Will he give you the nod?
Pan.
You shall see.
Cres.
If he do, the rich shall have more.
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,
niece.—O brave Hector!—Look how he looks; there's
a countenance. Is't not a brave man?
-- 24 --
Cres.
O! a brave man.
Pan.
Is 'a 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!
Cres.
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 god's lid, it does one's
heart good.—Yonder comes Paris; yonder comes
Paris: look ye yonder, niece: is't not a gallant man
too, is't not?—Why, this is brave now.—Who said he
came hurt home 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.
Cres.
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.
Cres.
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.
Cres.
What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
Troilus passes over.
Pan.
Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus.—'Tis Troilus!
there's a man, niece!—Hem!—Brave Troilus, the
prince of chivalry!
Cres.
Peace! for shame; peace!
Pan.
Mark him; note him.—O brave Troilus!—
look well upon him, niece: look you how his sword is
-- 25 --
bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than 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 an eye to
boot3 note.
Soldiers pass over the Stage.
Cres.
Here come more.
Pan.
Asses, fools, dolts, chaff and bran, chaff and
bran; porridge after meat. I could live and die i'the
eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look: the eagles
are gone; crows and daws, crows and daws. I had
rather be such a man as Troilus, than Agamemnon and
all Greece.
Cres.
There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better
man than Troilus.
Pan.
Achilles? a drayman, a porter, a very camel.
Cres.
Well, well.
Pan.
Well, well?—Why, have you any discretion?
have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is?
Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood,
learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such
like4 note, the spice and salt that season a man?
Cres.
Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked
with no date in the pye5 note,—for then the man's date's
out.
Pan.
You are such a woman! one knows not at
what ward you lie.
-- 26 --
Cres.
Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my
wit, to defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend
mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and
you, to defend all these: and at all these wards I lie,
at a thousand watches.
Pan.
Say one of your watches.
Cres.
Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of
the chiefest of them too: if I cannot ward what I
would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I
took the blow, unless it swell past hiding, and then it's
past watching.
Pan.
You are such another!
Enter Troilus' Boy.
Boy.
Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.
Pan.
Where?
Boy.
At your own house; there he unarms him6 note.
Pan.
Good boy, tell him I come.
[Exit Boy.
I doubt he be hurt.—Fare ye well, good niece.
Cres.
Adieu, uncle.
Pan.
I'll be with you, niece, by and by.
Cres.
To bring, uncle,—
Pan.
Ay, a token from Troilus.
Cres.
By the same token, you are a bawd.—
[Exit Pandarus.
Words, vows, gifts, tears7 note, 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, joy's soul lies in the 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
-- 27 --
Love got so sweet as when desire did sue.
Therefore, this maxim out of love I teach,—
Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech 11Q08258 note
:
Then, though9 note my heart's content firm love doth bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
The Grecian Camp. Before Agamemnon's Tent.
Sennet. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulysses, Menelaus, and Others.
Agam.
Princes,
What grief hath set the jaundice 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 seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand;
Sith every action that hath gone before,
-- 28 --
Whereof we have record, trial did draw
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim,
And that unbodied figure of the thought
That gav't surmised shape. Why then, you princes,
Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works,
And call them shames 11Q08261 note, which are, indeed, nought else
But the protractive trials of great Jove,
To find persistive constancy in men?
The fineness of which metal is not found
In fortune's love; for then, the bold and coward,
The wise and fool, the artist and unread,
The hard and soft, seem all affin'd2 note and kin:
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan3 note,
Puffing at all, winnows the light away;
And what hath mass, or matter, by itself
Lies rich in virtue, and unmingled.
Nest.
With due observance of thy godlike seat4 note,
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 breast5 note, making their way
With those of nobler bulk?
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold,
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,
-- 29 -- 11Q0827
Bounding between the two moist elements,
Like Perseus' horse: where's then the saucy boat,
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
Co-rival'd greatness? either to harbour fled,
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so
Doth valour's show, and valour's worth, divide
In storms of fortune: for, in her ray and brightness,
The herd hath more annoyance by the brize6 note,
Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,
And flies fled under shade, why then, the thing of courage,
As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,
And with an accent tun'd in self-same key,
Returns to chiding fortune7 note.
Ulyss.
Agamemnon,
Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,
Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit,
In whom the tempers and the minds of all
Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks.
Besides the applause and approbation
The which,—most mighty for thy place and sway,—
[To Agamemnon.
And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life,—
[To Nestor.
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 axletree
On which heaven rides) knit all the Greekish ears
To his experienc'd tongue8 note
,—yet let it please both,—
-- 30 --
Thou great,—and wise,—to hear Ulysses speak.
Agam.
Speak, prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect9 note
That matter needless, of importless burden,
Divide thy lips, than we are confident,
When rank Thersites opes his mastiff jaws1 note,
We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.
Ulyss.
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 hive2 note,
To whom the foragers shall all repair,
What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded,
Th' unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask.
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre,
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,
In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd
Amidst the other; whose med'cinable eye
-- 31 --
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,
And posts, like the commandment of a king,
Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets,
In evil mixture, to disorder wander,
What plagues, and what portents! what mutiny!
What raging of the sea, shaking of earth,
Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors,
Divert and crack, rend and deracinate
The unity and married calm of states
Quite from their fixure3 note! O! when degree is shak'd,
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 primogenitive and due of birth,
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,
But by degree, stand in authentic place?
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets4 note
In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters
Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores,
And make a sop of all this solid globe:
Strength should be lord of imbecility,
And the rude son should strike his father dead:
Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong,
(Between whose endless jar justice resides)
Should lose their names, and so should justice too.
Then every thing includes itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite;
And appetite, an universal wolf,
So doubly seconded with will and power,
Must make perforce an universal prey,
And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,
-- 32 --
This chaos, when degree is suffocate,
Follows the choking:
And this neglection of degree it is,
That by a pace goes backward, with 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 fever
Of pale and bloodless emulation:
And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weakness stands5 note, not in her strength.
Nest.
Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd
The fever whereof all our power is sick.
Agam.
The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses,
What is the remedy?
Ulyss.
The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns
The sinew and the forehand of our host,
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
Lies mocking our designs. With him, Patroclus,
Upon a lazy bed the livelong day
Breaks scurril jests;
And with ridiculous and awkward action6 note
(Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,)
He pageants us: sometime, great Agamemnon,
Thy topless deputation he puts on;
And, like a strutting player,—whose conceit
Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and sound
'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,—
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,
-- 33 --
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd,
Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff,
The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling,
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause;
Cries—“Excellent!—'tis Agamemnon right7 note.—
Now play me Nestor;—hem, 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 god Achilles still cries, “Excellent!
'Tis Nestor right! Now play him me, Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night alarm.”
And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age
Must be the scene of mirth; to cough, and spit,
And with a palsy, fumbling on his gorget,
Shake in and out the rivet:—and 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,
Achievements, plots, 11Q0828 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
In such a rein, in full as proud a place
As broad Achilles: keeps his tent like him8 note;
Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war,
-- 34 --
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 exposure9 note,
How rank soever rounded in with danger.
Ulyss.
They tax our policy, and call it cowardice;
Count wisdom as no member of the war;
Forestall prescience, and esteem no act
But that of hand: the still and mental parts,—
That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
When fitness calls them on, and know, by measure
Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight,—
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war:
So that the ram, that batters down the wall,
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise,
They place before his hand that made the engine,
Or those that with the fineness of their souls
By reason guide his execution.
Nest.
Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
Makes many Thetis' sons.
[A Tucket.
Agam.
What trumpet? look, Menelaus.
Enter Æneas.
Men.
From Troy.
Agam.
What would you 'fore our tent?
Æne.
Is this
Great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you?
Agam.
Even this.
Æne.
May one, that is a herald and a prince,
Do a fair message to his kingly ears1 note?
Agam.
With surety stronger than Achilles' arm,
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice
Call Agamemnon head and general.
-- 35 --
Æne.
Fair leave, and large security. How may
A stranger to those most imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals?
Agam.
How?
Æne.
Ay; I ask that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek2 note 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?
Agam.
This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.
Æne.
Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd,
As bending angels: that's their fame in peace;
But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,
Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord3 note,
Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Æneas!
Peace, Trojan! lay thy finger on thy lips.
The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth;
But what the repining enemy commends,
That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends. 11Q0829
Agam.
Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Æneas?
Æne.
Ay, Greek, that is my name.
Agam.
What's your affair, I pray you?
Æne.
Sir, pardon: 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.
Agam.
He hears nought privately that comes from Troy.
Æne.
Nor I from Troy came not to whisper him:
I bring a trumpet to awake his ear;
To set his sense on the attentive bent4 note,
-- 36 --
And then to speak.
Agam.
Speak frankly as the wind.
It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour:
That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake,
He tells thee so himself.
Æne.
Trumpet, blow loud,
Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;
And every Greek of mettle, let him know,
What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud.
[Trumpet sounds.
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy,
A prince call'd Hector, Priam is his father,
Who in this dull and long-continued truce
Is rusty grown: he bade me take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak.—Kings, princes, lords,
If there be one among the fair'st of Greece,
That holds his honour higher than his ease;
That seeks his praise5 note 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 couple in his arms6 note;
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call,
Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy,
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love:
If any come, Hector shall honour him;
If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires,
The Grecian dames are sun-burn'd, and not worth
The splinter of a lance. Even so much.
Agam.
This shall be told our lovers, lord Æneas;
-- 37 --
If none of them have soul in such a kind,
We left them all at home: but we are soldiers;
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love!
If then one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he7 note.
Nest.
Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man
When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now;
But if there be not in our Grecian host8 note
One noble man 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 vantbrace9 note 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 in flood,
I'll prove this truth1 note with my three drops of blood. 11Q0830
Æne.
Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth!
Ulyss.
Amen.
Agam.
Fair lord Æneas, let me touch your hand2 note;
To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir.
Achilles shall have word of this intent;
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent;
Yourself shall feast with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a noble foe.
[Exeunt all but Ulysses and Nestor.
Ulyss.
Nestor,—
Nest.
What says Ulysses?
Ulyss.
I have a young conception in my brain;
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.
-- 38 --
Nest.
What is't?
Ulyss.
This 'tis.
Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded pride,
That hath to this maturity blown up
In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd,
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil,
To overbulk us all.
Nest.
Well, and how?
Ulyss.
This challenge that the gallant 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 Libya, (though, Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough) will, with great speed of judgment,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.
Ulyss.
And wake him to the answer, think you?
Nest.
Why, 'tis most meet3 note: whom may you else oppose,
That can from Hector bring his honour off,
If not Achilles? Though't be a sportful combat,
Yet in the trial much opinion dwells;
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
With their fin'st palate: and trust to me, Ulysses,
Our imputation shall be oddly 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,
-- 39 --
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 receives from hence the conquering part,
To steel a strong opinion to themselves?
Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments4 note,
In no less working, than are swords and bows
Directive by the limbs.
Ulyss.
Give pardon to my speech:—
Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares,
And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not,
The lustre of the better shall exceed,
By showing the worse first5 note
. Do not 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?
Ulyss.
What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should share with him6 note:
But he already is too insolent;
And we were better parch in Afric sun,
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 lottery,
And by device let blockish Ajax draw
-- 40 --
The sort to fight with Hector: among ourselves,
Give him allowance for the better man7 note,
For that will physic the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in loud applause; and make him fall
His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull, brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll dress him up in voices: if he fail,
Yet go we under our opinion still,
That we have better men. But, hit or miss,
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes,—
Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes.
Nest.
Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice;
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon: go we to him straight.
Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone
Must tarre the mastiffs on8 note, as 'twere their bone.
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Another Part of the Grecian Camp.
Enter Ajax and Thersites.
Ajax.
Thersites,—
Ther.
Agamemnon—how if he had boils? full, all
over, generally?
Ajax.
Thersites,—
Ther.
And those boils did run?—Say so,—did not
the general run then? were not that a botchy core?
-- 41 --
Ajax.
Dog,—
Ther.
Then 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 mongrel
beef-witted lord!
Ajax.
Speak then, thou vinewd'st leaven9 note 11Q0831, speak: I
will beat thee into handsomeness.
Ther.
I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness:
but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration, than
thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike,
canst thou? a red murrain o'thy jade's tricks!
Ajax.
Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation.
Ther.
Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strik'st
me thus?
Ajax.
The proclamation,—
Ther.
Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.
Ajax.
Do not, porcupine, do not: my fingers itch.
Ther.
I would, thou didst itch from head to foot,
and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee
the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth
in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another1 note.
Ajax.
I say, the proclamation,—
Ther.
Thou grumblest and railest every hour on
Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his greatness,
as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that thou
barkest at him.
Ajax.
Mistress Thersites!
Ther.
Thou shouldest strike him.
Ajax.
Cobloaf2 note!
-- 42 --
Ther.
He would pun thee into shivers3 note with his fist,
as a sailor breaks a biscuit.
Ajax.
You whoreson cur!
[Beating him.
Ther.
Do, do4 note.
Ajax.
Thou stool for a witch!
Ther.
Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou
hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an
assinego may tutor thee5 note: 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 idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do,
do.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus6 note.
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?
Ther.
Nay, look upon him.
Achil.
So I do: what's the matter?
Ther.
Nay, but regard him well.
-- 43 --
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 bobbed 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?
Ther.
I say, this Ajax—
Achil.
Nay, good Ajax.
[Ajax offers to strike him.
Ther.
Has not so much wit—
Achil.
Nay, I must hold you.
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 damned 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.
Patr.
Good words, Thersites.
Achil.
What's the quarrel?
Ajax.
I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of
the proclamation, and he rails upon me.
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.
-- 44 --
Ther.
Even 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 your grandsires had nails on their toes7 note,
—yoke you like draught oxen, and make you plough
up the war.
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.
Patr.
No more words, Thersites; peace8 note!
Ther.
I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach9 note
bids me, shall I?
Achil.
There's for you, Patroclus.
Ther.
I will see you hanged, 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.
Patr.
A good riddance.
Achil.
Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through all our host:—
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun1 note,
Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,
That hath a stomach; and such a one, that dare
-- 45 --
Maintain—I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell.
Ajax.
Farewell. Who shall answer him?
Achil.
I know not: it is put to lottery; otherwise,
He knew his man.
Ajax.
O! meaning you.—I will go learn more of it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace.
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, travail, 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 toucheth my particular,
Yet, dread Priam,
There is no lady of more softer bowels,
More spungy to suck in the sense of fear,
More ready to cry out—“Who knows what follows?”
Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches2 note
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes3 note,
Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours:
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,
-- 46 --
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?
Tro.
Fie, fie! my brother
Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,
So great as our dread father, in a scale
Of common ounces? will you with counters sum
The past-proportion of his infinite?
And buckle in a waist most fathomless,
With spans and inches so diminutive
As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame!
Hel.
No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons,
You are so empty of them. Should not our father
Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons,
Because your speech hath none, that tells him so?
Tro.
You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest:
You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons:
You know, an enemy intends you harm,
You know, a sword employ'd is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm.
Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels,
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove 11Q08324 note,
Or like a star dis-orb'd?—Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep: manhood and honour
Should have hare hearts5 note, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect
-- 47 --
Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.
Hect.
Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost
The holding.
Tro.
What is aught, but as 'tis valued?
Hect.
But value dwells not in particular will;
It holds his estimate and dignity,
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself,
As in the prizer. 'Tis mad idolatry,
To make the service greater than the god;
And the will dotes, that is inclinable6 note
To what infectiously itself affects,
Without some image of th' affected merit.
Tro.
I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment. How may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose? there can be no evasion
To blench from this7 note, and to stand firm by honour.
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,
When we have soil'd them8 note; nor the remainder viands
We do not throw in unrespective sieve,
Because we now are full. It was thought meet,
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks:
Your breath of full consent9 note 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
-- 48 --
Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning1 note.
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 need, for you all cry'd—“Go, go;”
If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize,
As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands,
And cry'd—“Inestimable!” why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate,
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar the estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land? O, theft most base,
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep!
But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen,
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place!
Cas. [Within.]
Cry, Trojans, cry!
Pri.
What noise? what shriek is this?
Tro.
'Tis our mad sister: I do know her voice.
Cas. [Within.]
Cry, Trojans!
Hect.
It is Cassandra.
Enter Cassandra, raving2 note.
Cas.
Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes,
And I will fill them with prophetic tears.
Hect.
Peace, sister, peace!
Cas.
Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld3 note,
-- 49 --
Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,
Add to my clamours! 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 woe!
Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go.
[Exit.
Hect.
Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains
Of divination in our sister work
Some touches of remorse? or is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason,
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,
Can qualify the same?
Tro.
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 levity4 note,
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,
-- 50 --
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. 11Q0833
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 merely to myself
The pleasures such a beauty brings with it,
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; nor 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 gloz'd,—but superficially; not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy.
The reasons you allege 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
-- 51 --
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 benumbed wills, resist the same,
There is a law in each well-order'd nation,
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 nation, 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 brethren, 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.
Tro.
Why, there you touch'd the life of our design:
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 theme 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 offspring of great Priamus.—
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst
-- 52 --
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits.
I was advertis'd, their great general slept,
Whilst emulation in the army crept:
This, I presume, will wake him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles' Tent.
Enter Thersites.
Ther.
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 railed 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 ye
take not that little, little, less-than-little wit from them
that they have; which short-armed ignorance itself
knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention
deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing
their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the
vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather the Neapolitan
bone-ache5 note; 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!
-- 53 --
Enter Patroclus.
Patr.
Who's there? Thersites? Good Thersites,
come in and rail.
Ther.
If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit,
thou wouldest not have slipped out of my contemplation;
but it is no matter: thyself upon thyself! 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 art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn
upon't, she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen.
Where's Achilles?
Patr.
What! art thou devout? wast thou in prayer?
Ther.
Ay; the heavens 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 thyself
in 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 thyself?
Ther.
Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus,
what art thou?
Patr.
Thou must tell6 note, that knowest.
Achil.
O! tell, tell.
Ther.
I'll decline the whole question7 note. Agamemnon
commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus'
knower; and Patroclus is a fool.
-- 54 --
Patr.
You rascal8 note!
Ther.
Peace, fool! I have not done.
Achil.
He is a privileged 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 of the prover9 note.—It suffices
me, thou art. Look you, who comes here?
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, and Ajax.
Achil.
Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody.—Come in
with me, Thersites.
[Exit.
Ther.
Here is such patchery1 note, such juggling, 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 all2 note!
[Exit.
Agam.
Where is Achilles?
Patr.
Within his tent; but ill-dispos'd, my lord.
Agam.
Let it be known to him that we are here.
-- 55 --
We sent our messengers 11Q08343 note; 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 place4 note
,
Or know not what we are.
Patr.
I shall say so to him.
[Exit.
Ulyss.
We saw him at the opening of his tent:
He is not sick.
Ajax.
Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: you may
call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by
my head, 'tis pride: but why? why? let him show us
a cause.—A word, my lord5 note.
[Taking Agamemnon aside.
Nest.
What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
Ulyss.
Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
Nest.
Who? Thersites?
Ulyss.
He.
Nest.
Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his
argument.
Ulyss.
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 composure, a
fool could disunite.
Ulyss.
The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may
easily untie. Here comes Patroclus.
Nest.
No Achilles with him.
-- 56 --
Re-enter Patroclus.
Ulyss.
The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy:
his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.
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 upon him: he hopes, it is no other,
But, for your health and your digestion sake,
An after-dinner's breath.
Agam.
Hear you, Patroclus.
We are too well acquainted with these answers;
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues,
Not virtuously on his own part beheld,
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss;
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin,
If you do say, we think him over-proud,
And under-honest; in self-assumption greater,
Than in the note of judgment; and worthier than himself
Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And underwrite in an observing kind
His humorous predominance; yea, watch
His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if 11Q0835
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide6 note
. Go, tell him this: and add,
-- 57 --
That, if he overhold his price so much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report—
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war.
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant:—tell him so.
Patr.
I shall; and bring his answer presently.
[Exit.
Agam.
In second voice we'll not be satisfied,
We come to speak with him.—Ulysses, enter you7 note.
[Exit Ulysses.
Ajax.
What is he more than another?
Agam.
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?
Agam.
No question.
Ajax.
Will you subscribe his thought, and say he
is?
Agam.
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 pride is.
Agam.
Your mind is the 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 itself but in the deed, devours
the deed in the praise.
Ajax.
I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering
of toads.
Nest.
Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
[Aside.
-- 58 --
Re-enter Ulysses.
Ulyss.
Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Agam.
What's his excuse?
Ulyss.
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.
Agam.
Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Untent his person, and share the air with us?
Ulyss.
Things small as nothing, for request's sake only,
He makes important. Possess'd he is with greatness;
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath: imagin'd worth
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 down himself8 note: what should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it
Cry—“No recovery.”
Agam.
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.
Ulyss.
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 seam9 note,
And never suffers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts,—save such as doth revolve
And ruminate himself,—shall he be worshipp'd
Of that we hold an idol more than he?
-- 59 --
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 is1 note, by going to Achilles:
That were to enlard his fat-already pride;
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.
[Aside.
Dio.
And how his silence drinks up this applause!
[Aside.
Ajax.
If I go to him, with my armed fist
I'll pash him o'er the face.
Agam.
O, no! you shall not go.
Ajax.
An 'a be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride2 note.
Let me go to him.
Ulyss.
Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
Ajax.
A paltry, insolent fellow!
Nest.
How he describes
Himself?
[Aside.
Ajax.
Can he not be sociable?
Ulyss.
The raven
Chides blackness.
[Aside.
Ajax.
I'll let his humours blood3 note.
-- 60 --
Agam.
He will be the physician, that should be the patient.
[Aside.
Ajax.
An all men were o' my mind,—
Ulyss.
Wit would be out of fashion.
[Aside.
Ajax.
'A should not bear it so,
'A should eat swords first: shall pride carry it?
Nest.
An 'twould, you'd carry half.
[Aside.
Ulyss.
'A would have ten shares4 note.
[Aside.
Ajax.
I will knead him; I will make him supple.
Nest.
He's not yet thorough warm: force him with praises.
Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.
[Aside.
Ulyss.
My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
[To Agamemnon.
Nest.
Our noble general, do not do so.
Dio.
You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
Ulyss.
Why, 'tis this naming of him does 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.
Ulyss.
Know the whole world, he is as valiant.
Ajax.
A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us!
Would, he were a Trojan!
Nest.
What a vice
Were it in Ajax now—
Ulyss.
If he were proud?
Dio.
Or covetous of praise?
Ulyss.
Ay, or surly borne?
-- 61 --
Dio.
Or strange, or self-affected?
Ulyss.
Thank the heavens, 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 all erudition5 note;
But he that disciplin'd thine arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half: and for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield
To sinewy Ajax. I will 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;
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?
Nest.
Ay, my good son6 note.
Dio.
Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.
Ulyss.
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,
We must with all our main of power stand fast:
And here's a lord,—come knights from east to west,
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
Agam.
Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep7 note.
[Exeunt.
-- 62 --
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace.
Enter Pandarus and a Servant.
Pan.
Friend! you; pray you, a word. Do not you
follow the young lord Paris?
Serv.
Ay, sir, when he goes before me.
Pan.
You depend upon him, I mean?
Serv.
Sir, I do depend upon the lord.
Pan.
You depend upon a noble gentleman: I must
needs praise him.
Serv.
The lord be praised!
Pan.
You know me, do you not?
Serv.
Faith, sir, superficially.
Pan.
Friend, know me better. I am the lord Pandarus.
Serv.
I hope, I shall know your honour better.
Pan.
I do desire it.
Serv.
You are in the state of grace.
[Music within.
Pan.
Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship are
my titles.—What music is this?
Serv.
I do but partly know, sir: it is music in parts.
Pan.
Know you the musicians?
Serv.
Wholly, sir.
Pan.
Who play they to?
Serv.
To the hearers, sir.
Pan.
At whose pleasure, friend?
Serv.
At mine, sir; and theirs that love music.
Pan.
Command, I mean, friend.
Serv.
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?
-- 63 --
Serv.
That's to't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the
request of Paris, my lord, who is there in person; with
him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's
invisible soul—
Pan.
Who, my cousin Cressida?
Serv.
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 complimental assault
upon him, for my business seeths.
Serv.
Sodden business: there's a stewed phrase,
indeed.
Enter Paris and Helen, attended.
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 music.
Par.
You have broke 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—
-- 64 --
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 sour
offence.
Pan.
Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall
it not, in truth, la! Nay, I care not for such words:
no, no.—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. You must not know where he
sups8 note.
Par.
I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. 11Q0836
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.
-- 65 --
Pan.
My niece 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 forehead.
Pan.
Ay, you may, you may.
Helen.
Let thy song be love: this love will undo us
all. O, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!
Pan.
Love! ay, that it shall, i'faith.
Par.
Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.
Pan.
In good troth, it begins so:
Love, love, nothing but love, still more9 note
!
For, oh! 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 die!
Yet that which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he!
So dying love lives still:
Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha!
Oh! oh! 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,
-- 66 --
and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is
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 a-field
to-day?
Par.
Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all
the gallantry of Troy: I would fain have armed 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.
Farewell, sweet queen.
Helen.
Commend me to your niece.
Pan.
I will, sweet queen.
[Exit.
[A Retreat sounded.
Par.
They're come from field: let us to Priam's hall,
To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you
To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd,
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, overshines ourself.
Par.
Sweet, above thought I love thee1 note.
[Exeunt.
-- 67 --
SCENE II.
The Same. Pandarus' Orchard.
Enter Pandarus and a Servant, meeting.
Pan.
How now! where's thy master? at my cousin
Cressida's?
Serv.
No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him
thither.
Enter Troilus.
Pan.
O! here he comes.—How now, how now!
Tro.
Sirrah, walk off.
[Exit Servant.
Pan.
Have you seen my cousin?
Tro.
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 lily beds
Propos'd for the deserver. O, gentle Pandarus!
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Cressid.
Pan.
Walk here i' the orchard. I'll bring her straight.
[Exit Pandarus.
Tro.
I am giddy: expectation whirls me round.
Th' imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense; what will it be,
When that the watery palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice-repured nectar 11Q08372 note? death, I fear me;
Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine,
Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness3 note,
-- 68 --
For the capacity of my ruder powers.
I fear it much; and I do fear besides,
That I shall lose distinction in my joys;
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
The enemy flying.
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 frayed with a
sprite: I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain: she
fetches her breath so short as a new-ta'en sparrow.
[Exit Pandarus.
Tro.
Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom:
My heart beats thicker4 note than a feverous pulse,
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encountering
The eye of majesty.
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 watched ere you be made tame,
must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you
draw backward, we'll put you i' the fills5 note.—Why do you
not speak to her?—Come, draw this curtain, and let's
see your picture. Alas the day, how loath you are to
offend daylight! an 'twere dark, you'd close sooner.
So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress6 note. How now! a
kiss in fee-farm7 note? build there, carpenter; the air is
-- 69 --
sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out, ere I part
you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i' the
river8 note: go to, go to.
Tro.
You have bereft me of all words, lady.
Pan.
Words pay no debts, give her deeds; but she'll
bereave you of the 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 Pandarus.
Cres.
Will you walk in, my lord?
Tro.
O Cressida! how often have I wished me thus?
Cres.
Wished, my lord?—The gods grant!—O my
lord!
Tro.
What should they grant? what makes this
pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies my
sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
Cres.
More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes9 note.
Tro.
Fears make devils of cherubins1 note; they never
see truly.
Cres.
Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer
footing than blind reason, stumbling without fear: to
fear the worst, oft cures the worse.
Tro.
O! let my lady apprehend no fear: in all
Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster.
Cres.
Nor nothing monstrous neither?
Tro.
Nothing, but our undertakings; when we vow
to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking
it harder for our mistress to devise imposition
enough, than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed.
-- 70 --
This is the monstrosity in love, lady,—that the will is
infinite, and the execution confined; that the desire is
boundless, and the act a slave to limit.
Cres.
They say, all lovers swear more performance
than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they
never perform; 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?
Tro.
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 it2 note. 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 Cressid, as what envy can say
worst, shall be a mock for his truth; and what truth
can speak truest, not truer than Troilus.
Cres.
Will you walk in, my lord?
Re-enter Pandarus.
Pan.
What! blushing still? have you not done talking
yet?
Cres.
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.
Tro.
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 wooed, they are
constant, being won: they are burs, I can tell you;
they'll stick where they are thrown.
Cres.
Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart.—
-- 71 --
Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day
For many weary months.
Tro.
Why was my Cressid, then, so hard to win?
Cres.
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:
My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown
Too headstrong for their mother: see, we fools!
Why have I blabb'd? who shall be true to us,
When we are so unsecret to ourselves?—
But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not;
And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man,
Or that we women had men's privilege
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue;
For, in this rapture, I shall surely speak
The thing I shall repent. See, see! your silence,
Cunning in dumbness3 note, from my weakness draws
My very soul of counsel. Stop my mouth.
Tro.
And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.
Pan.
Pretty, i'faith.
Cres.
My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me;
'Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss.
I am asham'd:—O heavens! what have I done?—
For this time will I take my leave, my lord.
Tro.
Your leave, sweet Cressid?
Pan.
Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning,—
Cres.
Pray you, content you.
Tro.
What offends you, lady?
Cres.
Sir, mine own company.
Tro.
You cannot shun
Yourself.
-- 72 --
Cres.
Let me go and try.
I have a kind of self resides with you;
But an unkind self, that itself will leave,
To be another's fool. 11Q0838 I would be gone.—
Where is my wit? I know not what I speak4 note
.
Tro.
Well know they what they speak, that speak so wisely.
Cres.
Perchance, my lord, I show 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, for to be wise, and love,
Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.
Tro.
O! that I thought it could be in a woman,
(As, if it can, I will presume in you)
To feed for aye5 note her lamp and flames of love;
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,
Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind
That doth renew swifter than blood decays:
Or, that persuasion 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 uplifted! but, alas!
I am as true as truth's simplicity,
And simpler than the infancy of truth.
Cres.
In that I'll war with you.
Tro.
O, virtuous fight!
When right with right wars who shall be most right.
True swains in love shall, in the world to come,
Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes,
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,
-- 73 --
Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration,—
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon6 note,
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre,—
Yet, after all comparisons of truth,
As truth's authentic author to be cited,
As true as Troilus shall crown up the verse,
And sanctify the numbers.
Cres.
Prophet may you be!
If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
When time is old and hath forgot itself,
When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy,
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,
And mighty states characterless are grated
To dusty nothing; yet let memory,
From false to false, among false maids in love,
Upbraid my falsehood! when they have said—as false
As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son;
Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
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 one to another, since I
have taken such pains to bring you together, let all
pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end after
my name, call them all—Pandars: let all constant men
be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers-between
Pandars! say, amen.
Tro.
Amen.
-- 74 --
Cres.
Amen.
Pan.
Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber;
which bed7 note, because it shall not speak of your
pretty encounters, press it to death: away!
And Cupid grant all tongued-tied maidens here,
Bed, chamber, Pandar to provide this gear!
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Grecian Camp.
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor,
Ajax, Menelaus, and Calchas.
Cal.
Now, princes, for the service I have done you,
Th' advantage of the time prompts me, aloud
To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind,
That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove8 note
I have abandon'd Troy, 11Q0839 left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name; expos'd myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes; sequestering from me 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 register'd in promise,
-- 75 --
Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.
Agam.
What would'st 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 denied; but this Antenor,
I know, is such a wrest in their affairs9 note,
That their negociations all must slack,
Wanting his manage; and they will almost
Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,
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.
Agam.
Let Diomedes bear him,
And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall have
What he requests of us.—Good Diomed,
Furnish you fairly for this interchange:
Withal, bring word, if Hector will to-morrow
Be answer'd in his challenge. Ajax is ready.
Dio.
This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden
Which I am proud to bear.
[Exeunt Diomedes and Calchas.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus, before their Tent1 note.
Ulyss.
Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent:
Please it our general to pass strangely by him,
As if he were forgot; and, princes all,
-- 76 --
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him.
I will come last: 'tis like, he'll question me,
Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on him?
If so, I have derision medicinable,
To use between your strangeness and his pride,
Which his own will shall have desire to drink.
It may do good: pride hath no other glass
To show itself, but pride; for supple knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.
Agam.
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.
Achil.
What! comes the general to speak with me?
You know my mind: I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.
Agam.
What says Achilles? would he aught with us?
Nest.
Would you, my lord, aught with the general?
Achil.
No.
Nest.
Nothing, my lord.
Agam.
The better.
[Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor.
Achil.
Good day, good day.
Men.
How do you? how do you?
[Exit Menelaus.
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.
[Exit Ajax.
Achil.
What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?
Patr.
They pass by strangely: they were us'd to bend,
-- 77 --
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?
'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too: what the declin'd is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer,
And not a man, for being simply man,
Hath any honour; but honour for those honours2 note
That are without him, as place, riches, and favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit:
Which, when they fall, as being slippery standers,
The love that lean'd on them, as slippery too,
Doth one pluck down another, and together
Die 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 not worth in me such rich beholding
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses:
I'll interrupt his reading.—
How now, Ulysses!
Ulyss.
Now, great Thetis' son!
Achil.
What are you reading?
Ulyss.
A strange fellow here
Writes me, that man—how dearly ever parted3 note,
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 others4 note
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
-- 78 --
To the first giver.
Achill.
This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is borne here, in the face,
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To others' eyes: nor doth the eye itself
That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself5 note,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd
Salutes each other with each other's form:
For speculation turns not to itself,
Till it hath travell'd, and is married there
Where it may see itself. 11Q0840 This is not strange at all.
Ulyss.
I do not strain at the position6 note,
It is familiar, but at the author's drift;
Who in his circumstance expressly proves,
That no man is the lord of any thing,
Though in and of him there be much consisting,
Till he communicate his parts to others:
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Where they are extended; which, like an arch, reverberates
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.
Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse;
That has he knows not what. Nature! what things there 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 renowned. O heavens! what some men do,
-- 79 --
While some men leave to do.
How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes!
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is fasting7 note in his wantonness!
To see these Grecian lords!—why, even already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrieking 11Q08418 note.
Achil.
I do believe it; for they pass'd by me,
As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me,
Good word, nor look. What! are my deeds forgot?
Ulyss.
Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion;
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done. Perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
For honour travels in a strait 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 edge aside9 note from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost;
Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on1 note. Then, what they do in present,
-- 80 --
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours;
For time is like a fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Grasps-in the comer: welcome ever smiles2 note,
And farewell goes out sighing. Let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was; for beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, 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 gawds,
Though they are made and moulded of things past,
And give to dust3 note, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
The present eye praises the present object:
Then, marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye 11Q08424 note,
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
And still it might, and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thyself 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 this my privacy
I have strong reasons.
Ulyss.
But 'gainst your privacy
-- 81 --
The reasons are more potent and heroical.
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam's daughters.
Achil.
Ha! known?
Ulyss.
Is that a wonder?
The providence that's in a watchful state
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold5 note,
Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps,
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. 11Q0843
There is a mystery (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state,
Which hath an operation more divine,
Than breath, or 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 our islands 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 him.”
Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break6 note.
[Exit.
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 action. I stand condemn'd for this:
They think, my little stomach to the war,
-- 82 --
And your great love to me, restrains you thus.
Sweet, rouse yourself; 11Q0844 and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air7 note.
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 unarm'd. I have a woman's longing,
An appetite that I am sick withal,
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd!
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.
-- 83 --
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 arithmetic but her brain to set down her
reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who
should say—there were wit in this head, an 'twould
out: and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as
fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking.
The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not
his neck i' the 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, languageless, 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 nobody; he professes
not answering: speaking is for beggars; he
wears his tongue in his 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 unarmed to my tent; and to procure
safe conduct for his person of the magnanimous, and
most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honoured, captain-general
of the Grecian army8 note, Agamemnon. Do this.
Patr.
Jove bless great Ajax.
Ther.
Humph!
Patr.
I come from the worthy Achilles,—
Ther.
Ha!
Patr.
Who most humbly desires you to invite
Hector to his tent.—
-- 84 --
Ther.
Humph!
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 o'clock
it will go one way or other: howsoever, he shall pay
for me ere he has me.
Patr.
Your answer, sir.
Ther.
Fare you well, with all my heart.
Achil.
Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
Ther.
No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music
will be in him when Hector has knocked out his
brains, I know not; but, I am sure, none, unless the
fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.
Achil.
Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.
Ther.
Let me bear another to his horse9 note, for that's
the more capable creature.
Achil.
My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;
And I myself see not the bottom of it.
[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus.
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.
[Exit.
-- 85 --
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Troy. A Street.
Enter, at one side, Æneas, and Servant, with a Torch;
at the other, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, Diomedes,
and Others, with Torches.
Par.
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, nothing but heavenly 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, wherein1 note
You told how Diomed, 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 other Diomed 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. 11Q0845
Æne.
And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
With his face backward.—In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy: now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome, indeed. By Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
-- 86 --
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 complete 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.
Par.
This is the most despiteful2 note 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 enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid.
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before us. 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 wherefore: I fear,
We shall be much unwelcome.
Æne.
That I assure you:
Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Cressid borne 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 Diomed; 'faith, tell me true,
Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,—
Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best,
-- 87 --
Myself, or Menelaus?
Dio.
Both alike:
He merits well to have her, that doth seek her
Not making any scruple of her soilure3 note,
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 lecher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more;
But he as he, the heavier4 note for a whore.
Par.
You are too bitter to your countrywoman.
Dio.
She's bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris:—
For every false drop in her bawdy 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 given so many good words breath,
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.
Par.
Fair Diomed, 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 lies our way.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Same. A Court before the House of Pandarus.
Enter Troilus and Cressida.
Tro.
Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn is cold.
-- 88 --
Cres.
Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down;
He shall unbolt the gates.
Tro.
Trouble him not;
To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses,
As infants' empty of all thought!
Cres.
Good morrow, then.
Tro.
Pr'ythee now, to bed.
Cres.
Are you aweary of me?
Tro.
O Cressida! but that the busy day,
Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer5 note,
I would not from thee.
Cres.
Night hath been too brief.
Tro.
Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays,
As tediously as hell6 note; but flies the grasps of love,
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
You will catch cold, and curse me.
Cres.
Pr'ythee, tarry.—
You men will never tarry.
O foolish Cressid!—I might have still held off,
And, then, you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up.
Pan. [Within.]
What! are all the doors open here?
Tro.
It is your uncle.
Enter Pandarus.
Cres.
A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking:
I shall have such a life.—
Pan.
How now, how now! how go maidenheads?—
Here, you maid; where's my cousin Cressid?
-- 89 --
Cres.
Go hang yourself, 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?
Cres.
Come, come; beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good,
Nor suffer others.
Pan.
Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchio7 note!
—hast not slept to-night? would he not, a
naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him!
[Knocking.
Cres.
Did not I tell you?—'would he were knock'd o' the 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.
Tro.
Ha, ha!
Cres.
Come, you are deceiv'd; I think of no such thing.—
[Knocking.
How earnestly they knock.—Pray you, come in:
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.
[Exeunt Troilus and Cressida.
Pan. [Going to the door.]
Who's there? what's the
matter? will you beat down the door? How now!
what's the matter?
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.
-- 90 --
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 wrong ere y'are 'ware. 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.
Tro.
How now! what's the matter?
Æne.
My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My matter is so rash. There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us8 note; and for him, forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.
Tro.
Is it so concluded?
Æne.
By Priam, and the general state of Troy:
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
Tro.
How my achievements 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 nature9 note
Have not more gift in taciturnity. 11Q0846
[Exeunt Troilus and Æneas.
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!
-- 91 --
Enter Cressida.
Cres.
How now! What is the matter? Who was here?
Pan.
Ah! ah!
Cres.
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!
Cres.
O the gods!—what's the matter?
Pan.
Pr'ythee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne'er
been born! I knew, thou wouldst be his death.—
O poor gentleman!—A plague upon Antenor!
Cres.
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 changed for Antenor. Thou must to
thy father, and be gone from Troilus: 'twill be his
death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.
Cres.
O, you immortal gods!—I will not go.
Pan.
Thou must.
Cres.
I will not, uncle: I have 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 falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can1 note,
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it.—I'll go in, and weep.—
Pan.
Do, do.
-- 92 --
Cres.
Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks;
Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Same. Before Pandarus' House.
Enter Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes.
Par.
It is great morning, and the hour prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon.—Good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And haste her to the purpose.
Tro.
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 own heart2 note.
[Exit.
Par.
I know what 'tis to love;
And would, as I shall pity, I could help!—
Please you, walk in, my lords.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The Same. A Room in Pandarus' House.
Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
Pan.
Be moderate, be moderate.
Cres.
Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
-- 93 --
And violenteth3 note in a sense as strong
As 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 dross4 note,
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
Enter Troilus.
Pan.
Here, here, here he comes.—A sweet duck!
Cres.
O Troilus! Troilus!
[Embracing him.
Pan.
What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me
embrace too. O heart,—as the goodly saying is,—
&lblank; O heart, heavy heart,
Why sigh'st thou without breaking?
where he answers again,
Because thou canst not ease thy smart,
By friendship nor by speaking. 11Q0847
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!
Tro.
Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity5 note,
That the bless'd gods—as angry with my fancy,
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities,—take thee from me.
Cres.
Have the gods envy?
Pan.
Ay, ay, ay, ay: 'tis too plain a case.
Cres.
And is it true, that I must go from Troy?
Tro.
A hateful truth.
-- 94 --
Cres.
What! and from Troilus too?
Tro.
From Troy, and Troilus.
Cres.
Is it possible?
Tro.
And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath.
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one6 note.
Injurious time, now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu;
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasting with the salt of broken tears.
Æne. [Within.]
My lord! is the lady ready?
Tro.
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 root7 note!
[Exit Pandarus.
Cres.
I must then to the Grecians?
Tro.
No remedy.
Cres.
A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks8 note!
When shall we see again9 note?
-- 95 --
Tro.
Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart—
Cres.
I true? how now! what wicked deem is this?
Tro.
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.
Cres.
O! you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers
As infinite as imminent: but I'll be true.
Tro.
And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
Cres.
And you this glove. When shall I see you?
Tro.
I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet, be true.
Cres.
O heavens!—be true, again?
Tro.
Hear why I speak it, love.
The Grecian youths are full of quality;
Their loving well compos'd with gift of nature,
Flowing1 note
and swelling o'er with arts and exercise:
How novelties may move, and parts with person2 note,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy
(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin)
Makes me afraid.
Cres.
O heavens! you love me not.
Tro.
Die I a villain, then!
In this I do not call your faith in question,
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
-- 96 --
Nor heel the high lavolt3 note, 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.
Cres.
Do you think, I will?
Tro.
No;
But something may be done, that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency. 11Q0848
Æne. [Within.]
Nay, good my lord,—
Tro.
Come, kiss; and let us part.
Par. [Within.]
Brother Troilus!
Tro.
Good brother, come you hither;
And bring Æneas, and the Grecian, with you.
Cres.
My lord, will you be true?
Tro.
Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:
Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity;
Whilst 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.
Enter Æneas, Paris, Antenor, Deiphobus, and Diomedes.
Welcome, sir Diomed. Here is the lady,
Which 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,
-- 97 --
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe,
As Priam is in Ilion.
Dio.
Fair lady Cressid,
So please you, save the thanks this prince expects:
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,
Pleads your fair usage4 note; and to Diomed
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
Tro.
Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,
To shame the seal of my petition to thee,
In 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,
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
I'll cut thy throat.
Dio.
O! 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 lust5 note
; and know you, 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.
Tro.
Come, to the port.—I'll tell thee, Diomed,
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.
[Exeunt Troilus, Cressida, and Diomed.
[Trumpet sounded.
Par.
Hark! Hector's trumpet.
Æne.
How have we spent this morning!
The prince must think me tardy and remiss,
-- 98 --
That swore to ride before him to the field.
Par.
'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, come, to field with him.
Dei.
Let us make ready straight6 note.
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 lie
On his fair worth, and single chivalry.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
The Grecian Camp. Lists set out.
Enter Ajax, armed; Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus,
Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor, and others.
Agam.
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 the appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant,
And hale him hither.
Ajax.
Thou, trumpet, there's my purse.
Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe:
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek7 note
Out-swell the colic of puff'd Aquilon.
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood;
Thou blow'st for Hector.
[Trumpet sounds.
Ulyss.
No trumpet answers.
Achil.
'Tis but early days.
Agam.
Is not yond' Diomed8 note with Calchas' daughter?
-- 99 --
Ulyss.
'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait;
He rises on the toe: that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
Enter Diomed, with Cressida.
Agam.
Is this the lady Cressid?
Dio.
Even she.
Agam.
Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.
Nest.
Our general doth salute you with a kiss.
Ulyss.
Yet is the kindness but particular;
'Twere better she were kiss'd in general.
Nest.
And very courtly counsel: I'll begin.—
So much for Nestor.
Achil.
I'll take that winter from your lips, fair lady:
Achilles bids you welcome.
Men.
I had good argument for kissing once. 11Q0849
Patr.
But that's no argument for kissing now:
For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment,
And parted thus you and your argument9 note.
Ulyss.
O! deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns,
For which we lose our heads, to gild his horns.
Patr.
The first was Menelaus' kiss;—this, mine:
Patroclus kisses you.
Men.
O! this is trim.
Patr.
Paris, and I, kiss evermore for him.
Men.
I'll have my kiss, sir.—Lady, by your leave.
Cres.
In kissing do you render or receive?
Patr.
Both take and give.
Cres.
I'll make my match to live.
The kiss you take is better than you give;
Therefore no kiss.
Men.
I'll give you boot; I'll give you three for one.
Cres.
You're an odd man: give even, or give none.
-- 100 --
Men.
An odd man, lady? every man is odd.
Cres.
No, Paris is not; for, you know, 'tis true,
That you are odd, and he is even with you.
Men.
You fillip me o' the head.
Cres.
No, I'll be sworn.
Ulyss.
It were no match, your nail against his horn.—
May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?
Cres.
You may.
Ulyss.
I do desire it.
Cres.
Why, beg then.
Ulyss.
Why then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss,
When Helen is a maid again, and his.
Cres.
I am your debtor; claim it when 'tis due.
Ulyss.
Never's my day, and then a kiss of you.
Dio.
Lady, a word:—I'll bring you to your father.
[Diomed leads out Cressida.
Nest.
A woman of quick sense.
Ulyss.
Fie, fie upon her!
There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her body.
O! these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes 11Q08501 note
,
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
To every tickling reader2 note, set them down
For sluttish spoils of opportunity,
And daughters of the game.
[Trumpet within.
-- 101 --
All.
The Trojans' trumpet.
Agam.
Yonder comes the troop.
Enter Hector, armed; Æneas, Troilus, and other
Trojans, with Attendants.
Æne.
Hail, all you state of Greece! what shall be done
To him that victory commands? Or 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 divided3 note
By any voice or order of the field?
Hector bade ask.
Agam.
Which way would Hector have it?
Æne.
He cares not: he'll obey conditions.
Achil.
'Tis done like Hector4 note; 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 courtesy.
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood:
In love whereof half Hector stays at home;
Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek
This blended knight, half Trojan, and half Greek.
Achil.
A maiden battle, then?—O! I perceive you.
-- 102 --
Re-enter Diomed.
Agam.
Here is sir Diomed.—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: 11Q0851 the combatants being kin,
Half stints their strife before their strokes begin.
[Ajax and Hector enter the lists.
Ulyss.
They are oppos'd already5 note.
Agam.
What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?
Ulyss.
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 shows;
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty,
Nor dignifies an impair thought6 note 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,
Even to his inches, and with private soul
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.
[Alarum. Hector and Ajax fight.
-- 103 --
Agam.
They are in action.
Nest.
Now, Ajax, hold thine own!
Tro.
Hector, thou sleep'st:
Awake thee!
Agam.
His blows are well dispos'd:—there, Ajax!
Dio.
You must no more.
[Trumpets cease.
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 could'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
Bounds in my father'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 drop7 note thou borrow'dst 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 Oyez
-- 104 --
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 farther you will do.
Hect.
We'll answer it;
The issue is embracement.—Ajax, farewell.
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 signify this loving interview
To the expecters of our Trojan part:
Desire them home.—Give me thy hand, my cousin;
I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.
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.
Agam.
Worthy of arms8 note! as welcome as to one
That would be rid of such an enemy.
But 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.
Agam.
My well-fam'd lord of Troy, no less to you.
[To Troilus.
Men.
Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting:
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
-- 105 --
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 bade me not commend her to you.
Men.
Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly theme.
Hect.
O! pardon; I offend.
Nest.
I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft,
Labouring for destiny, make cruel way
Through ranks of Greekish youth: and I have seen thee,
As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed,
Despising many forfeits and subduements9 note,
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' th' air,
Not letting it decline on the declin'd;
That I have said unto my standers-by1 note,
“Lo! Jupiter is yonder, dealing life.”
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in2 note,
Like an Olympian wrestling: this have I 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.
-- 106 --
Nest.
I would, my arms could match thee in contention,
As they contend with thee in courtesy3 note.
Hect.
I would they could.
Nest.
Ha! By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow.
Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time—
Ulyss.
I wonder now how yonder city stands,
When we have here her 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 yourself and Diomed
In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.
Ulyss.
Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue:
My prophecy 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.
There they stand yet; and modestly I think,
The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all;
And that old common arbitrator, time,
Will one day end it.
Ulyss.
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 forestall 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 joint4 note.
Hect.
Is this Achilles?
Achil.
I am Achilles.
-- 107 --
Hect.
Stand fair, I pray thee: 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 thee5 note, 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 heavens, in which part of his body
Shall I destroy him, whether there, there, or there?
That I may give the local wound a name,
And make distinct the very breach, whereout
Hector's great spirit flew. Answer me, heavens!
Hect.
It would discredit the bless'd 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?
Achil.
I tell thee, yea.
Hect.
Wert thou an oracle6 note 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 stithied Mars his helm7 note,
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:
-- 108 --
You may have every day enough of Hector,
If you have stomach. The general state, I fear,
Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him8 note
.
Hect.
I pray you, let us see you in the field:
We have had pelting wars9 note, since you refus'd
The Grecians' cause.
Achil.
Dost thou entreat me, Hector?
To-morrow, do I meet thee, fell as death;
To-night, all friends.
Hect.
Thy hand upon that match.
Agam.
First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent;
There in the full convive we1 note: afterwards,
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall
Concur together, severally entreat him.—
Beat loud the tabourines2 note, let the trumpets blow,
That this great soldier may his welcome know.
[Exeunt all but Troilus and Ulysses.
Tro.
My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
Ulyss.
At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus:
There Diomed doth feast with him to-night;
Who neither looks upon the heaven, nor earth3 note,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the fair Cressid.
Tro.
Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much,
After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
To bring me thither?
Ulyss.
You shall command me, sir.
As gentle tell me, of what honour was
-- 109 --
This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there
That wails her absence?
Tro.
O, sir! to such as boasting show their scars,
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord?
She was belov'd, she lov'd4 note; she is, and doth:
But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles' Tent.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Achil.
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 cur of envy5 note!
Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
Ther.
Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, 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?
-- 110 --
Ther.
Pr'ythee be silent, boy; I profit not by thy
talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet.
Patr.
Male varlet, you rogue! what's that?
Ther.
Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten
diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs,
loads o' gravel i' the back, lethargies, cold palsies6 note,
raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs,
bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i' the
palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple
of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous
discoveries! 11Q0852
Patr.
Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what
meanest thou to curse thus?
Ther.
Do I curse thee?
Patr.
Why no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson
indistinguishable cur, no.
Ther.
No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle
immaterial skein of sleave silk7 note, thou green sarcenet
flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse,
thou? Ah! how the poor world is pestered 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 battle.
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 Greeks, fail fame, honour, or go, or stay,
My major vow lies here; this I'll obey.—
-- 111 --
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent;
This night in banqueting must all be spent.—
Away, Patroclus.
[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus.
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 madmen.
Here's Agamemnon,—an honest fellow enough, and
one that loves quails; but he has 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 shoeing-horn
in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg8 note,—to what
form, but that he is, should wit larded with malice, and
malice forced 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 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 louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus.—
Hey-day! spirits and fires!
Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses,
Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomedes, with Lights.
Agam.
We go wrong; we go wrong.
Ajax.
No, yonder 'tis;
There, where we see the lights.
Hect.
I trouble you.
Ajax.
No, not a whit.
Ulyss.
Here comes himself to guide you.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Welcome, brave Hector: welcome, princes all.
-- 112 --
Agam.
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 Greeks' 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.
Agam.
Good night.
[Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus.
Achil.
Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed,
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.
Ulyss.
Follow his torch, he goes
To Calchas' tent: I'll keep you company.
[Aside to Troilus.
Tro.
Sweet sir, you honour me.
Hect.
And so good night.
[Exit Diomed; Ulysses and Troilus following.
Achil.
Come, come; enter my tent.
[Exeunt Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and Nestor.
Ther.
That same Diomed'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: it is
prodigious, there will come some change: the sun borrows
of the moon, when Diomed 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' tent. I'll after.—Nothing but lechery! all
incontinent varlets!
[Exit.
-- 113 --
SCENE II.
The Same. Before Calchas' Tent.
Enter Diomedes.
Dio.
What are you up here, ho? speak.
Cal. [Within.]
Who calls?
Dio.
Diomed.—Calchas, I think.—Where's your
daughter?
Cal. [Within.]
She comes to you.
Enter Troilus and Ulysses, at a distance; after them Thersites.
Ulyss.
Stand where the torch may not discover us.
Enter Cressida.
Tro.
Cressid comes forth to him.
Dio.
How now, my charge!
Cres.
Now, my sweet guardian.—Hark! a word with you.
[Whispers.
Tro.
Yea, so familiar!
Ulyss.
She will sing any man at first sight.
Ther.
And any man may sing her, if he can take her
cliff9 note; she's noted. 11Q0853
Dio.
Will you remember?
Cres.
Remember? yes.
Dio.
Nay, but do then; and let your mind be
coupled with your words.
Tro.
What should she remember?
Ulyss.
List.
-- 114 --
Cres.
Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.
Ther.
Roguery!
Dio.
Nay, then,—
Cres.
I'll tell you what—
Dio.
Pho! pho! come tell, a pin: you are forsworn.—
Cres.
In faith, I cannot. What would you have me do?
Ther.
A juggling trick,—to be secretly open.
Dio.
What did you swear you would bestow on me?
Cres.
I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath;
Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.
Dio.
Good night.
Tro.
Hold, patience!
Ulyss.
How now, Trojan?
Cres.
Diomed,—
Dio.
No, no; good night: I'll be your fool no more.
Tro.
Thy better must.
Cres.
Hark! one word in your ear.
Tro.
O, plague and madness!
Ulyss.
You are mov'd, prince: let us depart, I pray you,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous;
The time right deadly: I beseech you, go.
Tro.
Behold, I pray you!
Ulyss.
Nay, good my lord, go off:
You flow to great distraction1 note; come, my lord.
Tro.
I pr'ythee, stay.
Ulyss.
You have not patience; come.
Tro.
I pray you, stay. By hell, and all hell's torments,
I will not speak a word.
Dio.
And so, good night.
-- 115 --
Cres.
Nay, but you part in anger.
Tro.
Doth that grieve thee?
O, wither'd truth!
Ulyss.
Why, how now, lord!
Tro.
By Jove,
I will be patient.
Cres.
Guardian!—why, Greek!
Dio.
Pho, pho! adieu; you palter.
Cres.
In faith, I do not: come hither once again.
Ulyss.
You shake, my lord, at something: will you go?
You will break out.
Tro.
She strokes his cheek!
Ulyss.
Come, come.
Tro.
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
potatoe finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery,
fry!
Dio.
But will you then?
Cres.
In faith, I will, la: never trust me else. 11Q0854
Dio.
Give me some token for the surety of it.
Cres.
I'll fetch you one.
[Exit.
Ulyss.
You have sworn patience.
Tro.
Fear me not, sweet lord;
I will not be myself, nor have cognition
Of what I feel: I am all patience.
Re-enter Cressida.
Ther.
Now the pledge! now, now, now!
Cres.
Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.
Tro.
O beauty! where is thy faith?
Ulyss.
My lord,—
Tro.
I will be patient; outwardly I will.
Cres.
You look upon that sleeve; behold it well.—
-- 116 --
He loved me—O false wench!—Give't me again2 note.
Dio.
Whose was't?
Cres.
It is no matter, now I have't again:
I will not meet with you to-morrow night.
I pr'ythee, Diomed, visit me no more.
Ther.
Now she sharpens.—Well said, whetstone.
Dio.
I shall have it.
Cres.
What, this?
Dio.
Ay, that.
Cres.
O, all you gods!—O pretty, pretty pledge!
Thy master now lies 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.—Nay, do not snatch it from me;
He that takes that doth take my heart withal3 note
.
Dio.
I had your heart before; this follows it.
Tro.
I did swear patience.
Cres.
You shall not have it, Diomed; 'faith you shall not:
I'll give you something else.
Dio.
I will have this. Whose was it?
Cres.
'Tis no matter.
Dio.
Come, tell me whose it was.
Cres.
'Twas one's that loved me better than you will.
But, now you have it, take it.
Dio.
Whose was it?
Cres.
By all Diana's waiting-women yond',
And by herself, 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.
Tro.
Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on thy horn,
-- 117 --
It should be challeng'd.
Cres.
Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past;—and yet it is not:
I will not keep my word.
Dio.
Why then, farewell.
Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.
Cres.
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 you4 note,
pleases me best.
Dio.
What! shall I come? the hour?
Cres.
Ay, come:—O Jove!—
Do come:—I shall be plagu'd.
Dio.
Farewell till then.
Cres.
Good night: I pr'ythee, come.—
[Exit Diomedes.
Troilus, farewell! 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 Cressida.
Ther.
A proof of strength she could not publish more,
Unless she said, “my mind is now turn'd whore.”
Ulyss.
All's done, my lord.
Tro.
It is.
Ulyss.
Why stay we then?
Tro.
To make a recordation to my soul
Of every syllable that here was spoke.
But if I tell how these two did co-act5 note,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
-- 118 --
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
An esperance so obstinately strong,
That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears6 note;
As if those organs had deceptious functions,
Created only to calumniate.
Was Cressid here?
Ulyss.
I cannot conjure, Trojan.
Tro.
She was not, sure.
Ulyss.
Most sure she was.
Tro.
Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.
Ulyss.
Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was here but now.
Tro.
Let it not be believ'd for womanhood!
Think we had mothers: do not give advantage
To stubborn critics—apt, without a theme,
For depravation,—to square the general sex
By Cressid's rule: rather think this not Cressid.
Ulyss.
What hath she done, prince, that can soil our mothers?
Tro.
Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
Ther.
Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?
Tro.
This she? no; this is Diomed's Cressida.
If beauty have a soul, this is not she:
If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimony,
If sanctimony be the gods' delight,
If there be rule in unity itself,
This is not she. O madness of discourse,
That cause sets up with and against itself7 note!
Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt
Without perdition, and loss assume all reason
Without revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid!
Within my soul there doth conduce a fight
-- 119 --
Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate
Divides more wider than the sky and earth;
And yet the spacious breadth of this division
Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle
As Arachne's broken woof, to enter.
Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates;
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven:
Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself;
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and loos'd;
And with another knot, five-finger-tied8 note,
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy reliques
Of her o'er-eaten faith, are given to Diomed9 note.
Ulyss.
May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
With that which here his passion doth express?
Tro.
Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well
In characters as red as Mars his heart
Inflam'd with Venus: never 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 Diomed.
That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear on his helm:
Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill,
My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful spout,
Which shipmen do the hurricano call,
Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun1 note,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomed.
Ther.
He'll tickle it for his concupy.
Tro.
O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false!
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,
And they'll seem glorious.
-- 120 --
Ulyss.
O! contain yourself;
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.
Tro.
Have with you, prince.—My courteous lord, adieu.—
Farewell, revolted fair!—and, Diomed,
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head!
Ulyss.
I'll bring you to the gates.
Tro.
Accept distracted thanks.
[Exeunt Troilus, Æneas, and Ulysses.
Ther. [Coming forward.]
Would, I could meet that
rogue Diomed. 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.
Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery: nothing else
holds fashion. A burning devil take them!
[Exit.
SCENE III.
Troy. Before Priam's Palace.
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.
Hect.
You train me to offend you; get you in:
By all the everlasting gods, I'll go2 note.
-- 121 --
And.
My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the 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 dream'd
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 heavens, sweet brother.
Hect.
Begone, I say: the gods have heard me swear.
Cas.
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows3 note:
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
And.
O! be persuaded: do not count it holy
To hurt by being just: 11Q0855 it is as lawful,
For us to give much count to violent thefts4 note
,
-- 122 --
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 fate5 note:
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man
Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.—
Enter Troilus.
How now, young man! mean'st thou to fight to-day?
And.
Cassandra, call my father to persuade.
[Exit Cassandra.
Hect.
No, 'faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth;
I am to-day i'the 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.
Tro.
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.
Tro.
When many times the captive Grecians fall,
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
You bid them rise, and live.
Hect.
O! 'tis fair play.
Tro.
Fool's play, by heaven, Hector.
Hect.
How now! how now!
Tro.
For the 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;
-- 123 --
Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.
Hect.
Fie, savage, fie!
Tro.
Hector, then 'tis wars.
Hect.
Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day.
Tro.
Who should withhold me?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,
Their eyes o'ergalled 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 ruin6 note.
Re-enter Cassandra, with Priam.
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.
Pri.
Come, Hector, come; go back.
Thy wife hath dream'd, thy mother hath had visions,
Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself
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,
Even in the faith of valour, to appear
This morning to them.
Pri.
Ay, 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.
-- 124 --
And.
Do not, dear father.
Hect.
Andromache, I am offended with you:
Upon the love you bear me, get you in.
[Exit Andromache.
Tro.
This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl
Makes all these bodements.
Cas.
O farewell, dear Hector!
Look, how thou diest! look, how thy eye turns pale!
Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents!
Hark, how Troy roars! how Hecuba cries out!
How poor Andromache shrills her dolour forth!
Behold, distraction, frenzy, and amazement7 note,
Like witless antics, one another meet,
And all cry—Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector!
Tro.
Away!—Away!—
Cas.
Farewell.—Yet, soft!—Hector, I take my leave:
Thou dost thyself 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.
Pri.
Farewell: the gods with safety stand about thee!
[Exeunt severally Priam and Hector. Alarums.
Tro.
They are at it; hark!—Proud Diomed, believe,
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.
[Going.
Enter Pandarus.
Pan.
Do you hear, my lord? do you hear?
Tro.
What now?
Pan.
Here's a letter come from yond' poor girl.
Tro.
Let me read.
Pan.
A whoreson phthisick, a whoreson rascally phthisick
-- 125 --
so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this girl;
and what one thing, what another, that I shall leave
you one o' these days: and I have a rheum in mine
eyes too; and such an ache in my bones, that, unless a
man were cursed, I cannot tell what to think on't.—
What says she there?
Tro.
Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart;
[Tearing the letter.
Th' effect doth operate another way.—
Go, wind to wind, there turn and change together.—
My love with words and errors still she feeds,
But edifies another with her deeds8 note
.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE IV.
Between Troy and the Grecian Camp.
Alarums: Excursions. Enter Thersites.
Ther.
Now they are clapper-clawing one another:
I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable varlet,
Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting 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
whoremasterly villain, with the sleeve, back to the dissembling
luxurious drab of a sleeveless errand. O' the
other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals,
-- 126 --
—that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and
that same dog-fox, Ulysses,—is not proved worth a
blackberry:—they set me up in policy that mongrel
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. Soft! here comes sleeve, and th' other. 11Q0856
Enter Diomedes, Troilus following.
Tro.
Fly not; for shouldst thou take the river Styx,
I would swim after.
Dio.
Thou dost miscall retire:
I do not fly, but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude.
Have at thee!
Ther.
Hold thy whore, Grecian!—now for thy
whore, Trojan!—now the sleeve! now the sleeve!
[Exeunt Troilus and Diomedes, fighting.
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, lechery eats itself. I'll seek them.
[Exit.
-- 127 --
SCENE V.
The Same.
Enter Diomedes and a Servant.
Dio.
Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' 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.
Serv.
I go, my lord.
[Exit Servant.
Enter Agamemnon.
Agam.
Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamus
Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner,
And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam,
Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Epistrophus and Cedius: Polixenes is slain;
Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd: the dreadful Sagittary
Appals our numbers. Haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Enter Nestor.
Nest.
Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles,
And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.—
There is a thousand Hectors in the field:
Now, here he fights on Galathe his horse,
And there lacks work; anon, he's there afoot,
And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls9 note
Before the belching whale: then, is he yonder,
-- 128 --
And there the strawy Greeks1 note, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him, like the mower's swath.
Here, there, and every 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.
Ulyss.
O, courage, courage, princes! great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance.
Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, 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 fantastic execution,
Engaging and redeeming of himself,
With such a careless force, and forceless care,
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
Bade him win all.
Enter Ajax.
Ajax.
Troilus! thou coward Troilus!
[Exit.
Dio.
Ay, there, there.
Nest.
So, so, we draw together.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou boy-queller! show thy face;
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
[Exeunt.
-- 129 --
SCENE VI.
Another Part of the Field.
Enter Ajax.
Ajax.
Troilus! thou coward Troilus, show thy head!
Enter Diomedes.
Dio.
Troilus, I say! where's Troilus?
Ajax.
What would'st 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.
Tro.
O, traitor Diomed!—turn thy false face, thou traitor,
And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse!
Dio.
Ha! art thou there?
Ajax.
I'll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed.
Dio.
He is my prize, I will not look upon2 note.
Tro.
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. Ha!—Have at thee, Hector.
-- 130 --
Hect.
Pause, if thou wilt.
Achil.
I do disdain thy courtesy, 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.
[Exit.
Hect.
Fare thee well.
I would have been much more a fresher man,
Had I expected thee.—How now, my brother!
Re-enter Troilus.
Tro.
Ajax hath ta'en Æneas: shall it be?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
He shall not carry him: I'll be taken too,
Or bring him off.—Fate, hear me what I say!
I reck not though I end3 note my life to-day.
[Exit.
Enter one in sumptuous Armour.
Hect.
Stand, stand, thou Greek: thou art a goodly mark.—
No! wilt thou not?—I like thy armour well;
I'll frush it4 note, 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.
[Exeunt.
-- 131 --
SCENE VII.
The Same.
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 yourselves in breath;
And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Empale him with your weapons round about;
In fellest manner execute your aims5 note.
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye.—
It is decreed—Hector the great must die.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
The Same.
Enter Menelaus and Paris, fighting: then, Thersites.
Ther.
The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it.
Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now, my
double-henned sparrow! 'loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has
the game:—'ware horns, ho!
[Exeunt Paris and Menelaus.
Enter Margarelon.
Mar.
Turn, slave, and fight.
Ther.
What art thou?
-- 132 --
Mar.
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.
Farewell, bastard.
Mar.
The devil take thee, coward!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
Another Part of the Field.
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 good breath:
Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death!
[Puts off his Helmet, and lays his Sword aside.
Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.
Achil.
Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun6 note,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
Hect.
I am unarm'd: forego this vantage, Greek.
Achil.
Strike, fellows, strike! this is the man I seek.
[Hector falls.
-- 133 --
So, Ilion, fall thou next7 note! now, Troy, sink down; 11Q0857
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.—
On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain,
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.
[A Retreat sounded.
Hark! a retire8 note 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 like9 note, the armies separates.
My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bit1 note, thus goes to bed.—
[Sheaths his Sword.
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail.
[Exeunt.
SCENE X.
The Same.
Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomedes,
and Others, marching. Shouts within.
Agam.
Hark! hark! what shout is that?
Nest.
Peace, drums!
[Within.]
Achilles!
Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles!
Dio.
The bruit is, Hector's slain, and by Achilles.
Ajax.
If it be so, yet bragless let it be:
Great Hector was a man as good as he.
-- 134 --
Agam.
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, marching.
SCENE XI.
Another Part of the Field.
Enter Æneas and Trojan Forces.
Æne.
Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field.
Never go home2 note: here starve we out the night.
Enter Troilus.
Tro.
Hector is slain.
All.
Hector?—The gods forbid!
Tro.
He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail,
In beastly sort dragg'd through the shameful field.—
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed!
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy3 note!
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.
Tro.
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 screech-owl aye be call'd,
Go in to Troy, and say there—Hector's dead:
-- 135 --
There is a word will Priam turn to stone,
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth4 note; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away:
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay yet.—You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight5 note 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 frenzy's thoughts.—
Strike a free march to Troy!—with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
[Exeunt Æneas and Trojan Forces.
As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other side, Pandarus.
Pan.
But hear you, hear you!
Tro.
Hence, broker, lackey! ignomy and shame6 note
Pursue thy life, 11Q0858 and live aye with thy name!
[Exit Troilus.
Pan.
A goodly medicine for mine aching bones!—O
world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised.
O, traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a'
work, and how ill requited! why should our endeavour
be so loved, and the performance so loathed7 note? what
verse for it? what instance for it?—Let me see.—
-- 136 --
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting;
And being once subdued in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.—
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths8 note
.
As many as be here of Pander'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 aching 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,—
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss9 note.
Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases;
And at that time bequeath you my diseases.
[Exit.
