William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida (1601-02)


William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

This is a part of a collection of works by William Shakespeare.

Source

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. (London: Oxford University Press, 1916).

See the complete volume in HTML and facs. PDF.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
PROLOGUE.
ACT I.
ACT II.
ACT III.
ACT IV.
ACT V.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Priam,	King of Troy.
Hector, }	his Sons.
Troilus, }
Paris, }
Deiphobus, }
Helenus, }
Margarelon,	a Bastard Son of Priam.
Æneas, }	Trojan Commanders.
Antenor, }	Trojan Commanders.
Calchas,	a Trojan Priest, taking part with the Greeks.
Pandarus,	Uncle to Cressida.
Agamemnon,	the Grecian General.
Menelaus,	his Brother.
Achilles, }	Grecian Commanders.
Ajax, }
Ulysses, }
Nestor, }	Grecian Commanders.
Diomedes, }
Patroclus, }
Thersites,	a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.
Alexander,	Servant to Cressida.
Servant to Troilus.
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.

Scene.—Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it.

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 4

Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore

Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay

Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made

To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures 8

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 war-like fraughtage: now on Dardan plains 13

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 17

And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,

Sperr up the sons of Troy.

Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, 20

On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,

Sets all on hazard. And hither am I come

A prologue arm’d, but not in confidence

Of author’s pen or actor’s voice, but suited 24

In like conditions as our argument,

To tell you, fair beholders, that our play

Leaps o’er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,

Beginning in the middle; starting thence away

To what may be digested in a play. 29

Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are:

Now good or bad, ’tis but the chance of war.

Scene I.— Troy. Before Priam’s Palace.

Enter Troilus armed, and Pandarus.

Tro.

Call here my varlet, I’ll unarm again:

Why should I war without the walls of Troy,

That find such cruel battle here within?

Each Trojan that is master of his heart, 4

Let him to field; Troilus, alas! has none.

Pan.

Will this gear ne’er be mended?

Tro.

The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength.

Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; 8

But I am weaker than a woman’s tear,

Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,

Less valiant than the virgin in the night,

Patience herself, what goddess e’er she be,

Doth lesser blench 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? 33

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, 37

Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,

I have—as when the sun doth light a storm—

Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile; 40

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 kins woman; I would not, as they term it, praise her, but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did: I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra’s wit, but— 49

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 52

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, 57

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, 61

As true thou tell’st me, when I say I love her;

But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,

Thou lay’st in every gash that love hath given me 64

Tro.

Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds!

Fools on both sides! Helen must needs bo fair,

When with your blood you daily paint her thus.

I cannot fight upon this argument; 97

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; 100

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? 104

Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl:

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.— 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 4

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 light, 8

And to the field goes he; where every flower

Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Pan.

Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you talk of? Good morrow, Alexander.

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. 193

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. 197

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 you: but mark Troilus; you shall see anon. 201

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. 237

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. 242

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! 246

Cres.

Peace! for shame, peace!

Pan.

Mark him; note him: O brave Troilus! look well upon him, niece: look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helmet more hacked 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 boot.

Cres.

Here come more. 259

[Exit Pandarus.

Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love’s full sacrifice

He offers in another’s enterprise;

But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see 308

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: 312

Men prize the thing ungain’d more than it is:

That she was never yet, that ever knew

Love got so sweet as when desire did sue.

Therefore this maxim out of love I teach: 316

Achievement is command; ungain’d, beseech:

Then though my heart’s content firm love doth bear,

Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.

[Exeunt.

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 4

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 8

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; 12

Sith every action that hath gone before,

Whereof we have record, trial did draw

Bias and thwart, not answering the aim,

And that unbodied figure of the thought 16

That gave’t surmised shape. Why then, you princes,

Do you with cheeks abash’d behold our works,

And call them shames? which are indeed nought else

But the protractive trials of great Jove, 20

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, 24

The hard and soft, seem all affin’d and kin:

But, in the wind and tempest of her frown,

Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,

Puffing at all, winnows the light away; 28

And what hath mass or matter, by itself

Lies rich in virtue and unmingled.

Nest.

With due observance of thy god-like seat,

Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply 32

Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance

Lies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth,

How many shallow bauble boats dare sail

Upon her patient breast, making their way 36

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, 40

Bounding between the two moist elements,

Like Perseus’ horse: where’s then the saucy boat

Whose weak untimber’d sides but even now

Co-rivall’d greatness? either to harbour fled, 44

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 breese 48

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, 53

Retorts to chiding fortune.

Ulyss.

Agamemnon,

Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,

Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit, 56

In whom the tempers and the minds of all

Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks.

Besides the applause and approbation

The which, [To Agamemnon.] most mighty for thy place and sway, 60

[To Nestor.] And thou most reverend for thy stretch’d-out life,

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 64

As venerable Nestor, hatch’d in silver,

Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree

On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears

To his experienc’d tongue, yet let it please hoth, 68

Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak.

Agam.

Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be’t of less expect

That matter needless, of importless burden,

Divide thy lips, than we are confident, 72

When rank Thersites opes his mastick jaws,

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, 76

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. 80

When that the general is not like the hive

To whom the foragers shall all repair,

What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded,

The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. 84

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: 88

And therefore is the glorious planet Sol

In noble eminence enthron’d and spher’d

Amidst the other; whose med’cinable eye

Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, 92

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, 97

Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors,

Divert and crack, rend and deracinate

The unity and married calm of states 100

Quite from their fixure! O! when degree is shak’d,

Which is the ladder to all high designs,

The enterprise is sick. How could communities,

Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,

Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, 105

The primogenitive and due of birth,

Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,

But by degree, stand in authentic place? 108

Take but degree away, untune that string,

And, hark! what discord follows; each thing meets

In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters

Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores,

And make a sop of all this solid globe: 113

Strength should be lord of imbecility,

And the rude son should strike his father dead:

Force should be right; or rather, right and wrong— 116

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; 120

And appetite, a universal wolf,

So doubly seconded with will and power,

Must make perforce a universal prey,

And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,

This chaos, when degree is suffocate, 125

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 129

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 132

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 lives, 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, 140

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, 144

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, 148

And with ridiculous and awkward action—

Which, slanderer, he imitation calls—

He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,

Thy topless deputation he puts on 152

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,— 156

Such to-be-pitied and o’er-wrested seeming

He acts thy greatness in:—and when he speaks,

’Tis like a chime a mending; with terms unsquar’d,

Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp’d, 160

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 just. 164

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, like as Vulcan and his wife:— 168

Yet good Achilles still cries, ‘Excellent!

’Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus,

Arming to answer in a night alarm.’

And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age 172

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 177

In pleasure of my spleen.’ And in this fashion,

All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,

Severals and generals of grace exact, 180

Achievements, plots, orders, preventions,

Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,

Success or loss, what is or is not, serves

As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. 184

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 188

In such a rein, in full as proud a place

As broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him;

Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war,

Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites— 192

A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint—

To match us in comparison with dirt;

To weaken and discredit our exposure,

How rank soever rounded in with danger. 196

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, 200

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: 204

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,

Know them from eyes of other mortals?

Agam.

How!

Æne.

Ay;

I ask, that I might waken reverence,

And bid the cheek be ready with a blush 228

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? 232

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, 237

Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove’s accord,

Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Æneas!

Peace, Trojan! lay thy finger on thy lips! 240

The worthiness of praise distains his worth,

If that the prais’d himself bring the praise forth;

But what the repining enemy commends,

Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him:

I bring a trumpet to awake his ear,

To set his sense on the attentive bent, 252

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 aloud, 256

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. 260

A prince called Hector,—Priam is his father,—

Who in this dull and long-continu’d 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 265

That holds his honour higher than his ease,

That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril,

That knows his valour, and knows not his fear,

That loves his mistress more than in confession, 269

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, 273

Shall make it good, or do his best to do it,

He hath a lady wiser, fairer, truer,

Than ever Greek did compass in his arms; 276

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; 280

If none, he’ll say in Troy when he retires,

The Grecian dames are sunburnt, and not worth

The splinter of a lance. Even so much.

Agam.

This shall be told our lovers, Lord Æneas; 284

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! 288

If then one is, or hath, or means to be,

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

Nest.

Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man

When Hector’s grandsire suck’d: he is old now;

But if there be not in our Grecian host 293

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, 296

And in my vantbrace 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, 300

I’ll prove this truth with my three drops of blood.

Æne.

Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth!

Ulyss.

Amen.

Agam.

Fair Lord Æneas, let me touch your hand; 304

To our pavilion shall I lead you first.

Achilles shall have word of this intent;

Well, and how? 320

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 324

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, 328

’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? 332

Nest.

Yes, ’tis most meet: whom may you else oppose,

That can from Hector bring those honours off,

If not Achilles? Though’t be a sportful combat,

Yet in the trial much opinion dwells; 336

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, 340

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 344

The baby figure of the giant mass

Of things to come at large. It is suppos’d

He that meets Hector issues from our choice;

And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, 348

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 bence the conquering part, 352

To steel a strong opinion to themselves?

Which entertain’d, limbs are his instruments,

In no less working than are swords and bows

Directive by the limbs. 356

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, 360

The lustre of the better yet to show

Shall show the better. Do not consent

That ever Hector and Achilles meet;

For both our honour and our shame in this 364

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 him: 368

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, 372

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

The sort to fight with Hector: among ourselves

Give him allowance as the worthier man, 377

For that will physic the great Myrmidon

Who broils in loud applause; and make him fall

His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends. 380

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, 384

Our project’s life this shape of sense assumes:

Ajax employ’d plucks down Achilles’ plumes.

Nest.

Ulysses,

Now I begin to relish thy advice; 388

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 on, as ’twere their bone.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

You cur!

[Beating him.

Ther.

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

Enter Achilles and Patroclus.

Achil.

Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do you this? 60

[Exit.

Patr.

A good riddance. 132

Achil.

Marry, this, sir, is proclaim’d through all our host:

That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,

Will, with a trumpet, ’twixt our tents and Troy

To morrow morning call some knight to arms

That hath a stomach; and such a one that dare 137

Maintain—I know not what: ’tis trash. Farewell.

Ajax.

Farewell. Who shall answer him?

Achil.

I know not: it is put to lottery; otherwise, 140

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, expense, 4

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, 8

As far as toucheth my particular,

Yet, dread Priam,

There is no lady of more softer bowels,

More spongy to suck in the sense of fear, 12

More ready to cry out ‘Who knows what follows?’

Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety,

Surety secure; but modest doubt is call’d

The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 16

To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:

Since the first sword was drawn about this question,

Every tithe soul, ’mongst many thousand dismes,

Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours:

If we have lost so many tenths of ours, 21

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 24

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? 29

And buckle in a waist most fathomless

With spans and inches so diminutive

As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame! 32

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? 36

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, 40

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, 44

And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,

Or like a star disorb’d? Nay, if we talk of reason,

Let’s shut our gates and sleep: manhood and honour

Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat their thoughts 48

With this cramm’d reason: reason and respect

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 valu’d?

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 56

To make the service greater than the god;

And the will dotes that is inclinable

To what infectiously itself affects,

Without some image of the affected merit. 60

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 64

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 this and to stand firm by honour. 68

We turn not back the silks upon the merchant

When we have soil’d them, nor the remainder viands

We do not throw in unrespective sink

Because we now are full. It was thought meet

Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks:

Your breath of full consent bellied his sails;

The seas and winds—old wranglers—took a truce

And did him service: he touch’d the ports desir’d, 76

And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive

He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness

Wrinkles Apollo’s, and makes stale the morning.

Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt:

Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl, 81

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,— 84

As you must needs, for you all cried ‘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 88

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 stol’n what we do fear to keep! 93

But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol’n,

That in their country did them that disgrace

We fear to warrant in our native place. 96

Cas.

[Within.] Cry, Trojans, cry!

Pri.

What noise? what shriek?

Tro.

’Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice

Cas.

[Within.] Cry, Trojans!

Hect.

It is Cassandra. 100

Enter Cassandra, raving.

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 eld, 104

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; 109

Our firebrand 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 113

Of divination in our sister work

Some touches of remorse? or is your blood

So madly hot that no discourse of reason, 116

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, 120

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 124

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. 129

Par.

Else might the world convince of levity

As well my undertakings as your counsels;

But I attest the gods, your full consent 132

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, 136

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, 140

Paris should ne’er retract what he hath done,

Nor faint in the pursuit.

Prt.

Paris, you speak

Like one besotted on your sweet delights:

You have the honey still, but these the gall; 144

So to be valiant is no praise at all.

Par.

Sir, I propose not merely to myself

The pleasure such a beauty brings with it;

But I would have the soil of her fair rape 148

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, 152

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 156

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, 160

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 164

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 168

To the hot passion of distemper’d blood

Than to make up a free determination

’Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge

Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice

Of any true decision. Nature craves 173

All dues be render’d to their owners: now,

What nearer debt in all humanity

Than wife is to the husband? if this law 176

Of nature be corrupted through affection,

And that great minds, of partial indulgence

To their benumbed wills, resist the saine;

There is a law in each well-order’d nation 180

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 184

Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud

To have her back return’d: thus to persist

In doing wrong extenuates not wrong,

But makes it much more heavy. Hector’s opinion 188

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. 193

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 197

Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,

She is a theme of honour and renown,

A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, 200

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 204

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 208

The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks

Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits.

Achil.

Patroclus, I’ll speak with nobody. Come in with me, Thersites.

[Exit.

Ther.

Here is such patchery, 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 all!

[Exit.

Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, and Ajax.

Agam.

Where is Achilles? 84

Patr.

Within his tent; but ill-dispos’d, my lord.

Agam.

Let it be known to him that we are here.

He shent our messengers; and we lay by

Our appertainments, visiting of him: 88

Let him be told so; lest perchance he think

We dare not move the question of our place,

Or know not what we are.

Patr.

I shall say so to him.

[Exit.

Ulyss.

We saw him at the opening of his tent: 92

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 lord.

The amity that wisdom knits not folly may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus. 112

Re-enter Patroclus.

Nest.

No Achilles with him.

Ulyss.

The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure. 116

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 120

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. 125

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, 128

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 132

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 135

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 140

The passage and whole carriage of this action

Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add,

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: 145

‘Bring action hither, this cannot go to war:’

A stirring dwarf we do allowance give

Before a sleeping giant: tell him so. 148

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 you.

[Aside.] Yet he loves himself: is’t not strange? 173

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 176

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, 181

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, 185

That ’twixt his mental and his active parts

Kingdom’d Achilles in commotion rages

And batters down himself: what should I say?

He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it 189

Cry ‘No recovery.’

Agam.

Let Ajax go to him.

Dear lord, go you and meet him in his tent:

’Tis said he holds you well, and will be led 192

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 196

That bastes his arrogance with his own seam,

And never suffers matter of the world

Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve

And ruminate himself, shall he be worshipp’d

Of that we hold an idol more than he? 201

No, this thrice-worthy and right valiant lord

Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir’d;

Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, 204

As amply titled as Achilles is,

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. 209

This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid,

And say in thunder, ‘Achilles go to him.’

Nest.

[Aside.] O! this is well; he rubs the vein of him. 213

Dio.

[Aside.] And how his silence drinks up this applause!

Ajax.

If I go to him, with my armed fist 216

I’ll pash him o’er the face.

Agam.

O, no! you shall not go.

Ajax.

Wherefore should you so? 244

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 256

Thrice-fam’d, beyond all erudition:

But he that disciplin’d thy arms to fight,

Let Mars divide eternity in twain,

And give him half: and, for thy vigour, 260

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, 265

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, 269

But be as Ajax.

Ajax.

Shall I call you father?

Ulyss.

Ay, my good son.

Dio.

Be rul’d by him, Lord Ajax.

Ulyss.

There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles 272

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, 277

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 deep.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

I must needs praise him.

Serv.

The Lord be praised! 8

Pan.

You know me, do you not?

Serv.

Faith, sir, superficially.

Pan.

Pan.

Pan.

Come, come, I’ll hear no more of this.

In good troth, it begins so:

[Sings.]

Love, love, nothing but love, still more!

For, oh! love’s bow  128

Shoots buck and doe:

The shaft confounds,

Not that it wounds,

But tickles still the sore.  132

These lovers cry O! O! they die!

Yet that which seems the wound to kill,

Doth turn O! O! to ha! ha! he!

So dying love lives still:  136

O! O! a while, but ha! ha! ha!

O! O! groans out for ha! ha! ha!

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 164

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 168

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, 172

Yea, overshines ourself.

Par.

Sweet, above thought I love thee.

[Exeunt.

No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door,

Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks 9

Staying for waftage. O! be thou my Charon,

And give me swift transportance to those fields

Where I may wallow in the lily-beds 12

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.

Tro.

I am giddy, expectation whirls me round.

The imaginary relish is so sweet

That it enchants my sense. What will it be

When that the watery palate tastes indeed 20

Love’s thrice-repured nectar? death, I fear me,

Swounding destruction, or some joy too fine,

Too subtle-potent, tun’d too sharp in sweetness

For the capacity of my ruder powers: 24

I fear it much; and I do fear besides

That I shall lose distinction in my joys;

With the first glance that ever—pardon me—

If I confess much you will play the tyrant.

I love you now; but, till now, not so much 128

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 132

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 136

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 dumbness, from my weakness draws

My very soul of counsel. Stop my mouth. 141

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: 145

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? 148

Pan.

Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love; 160

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. 164

Tro.

O! that I thought it could be in a woman—

As if it can I will presume in you—

To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love;

To keep her constancy in plight and youth, 168

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 172

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, 176

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 rimes, 181

Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,

Want similes, truth tir’d with iteration,

As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, 184

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, 188

‘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, 192

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, 196

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, 200

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. 212

Tro.

Amen.

Cres.

Amen.

Pan.

Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber and a bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death: away!

And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here

Bed, chamber, Pandar to provide this gear! 220

[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,

The 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 come,

I have abandon’d Troy, left my possession, 5

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, have become

As new into the world, strange, unacquainted:

I do beseech you, as in way of taste, 13

To give me now a little benefit,

Out of those many register’d in promise,

Which, you say, live to come in my behalf. 16

Agam.

What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? make demand.

Cal.

You have a Trojan prisoner, call’d Antenor,

Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear.

Oft have you—often have you thanks therefore— 20

Desir’d my Cressid in right great exchange,

Whom Troy hath still denied; but this Antenor

I know is such a wrest in their affairs

That their negociations all must slack, 24

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 28

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, 32

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 36

Which I am proud to bear.

[Exeunt Diomedes and Calchas.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus, before their tent.

Ulyss.

Achilles stands in the entrance of his tent:

Please it our general to pass strangely by him,

As if he were forgot; and, princes all, 40

Lay negligent and loose regard upon him:

I will come last. ’Tis like he’ll question me

Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him:

If so, I have derision med’cinable 44

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 48

Feed arrogance and are the poor 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, 52

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. 56

Agam.

What says Achilles? would he aught with us?

Nest.

Would you, my lord, aught with the general?

Ay, and good next day too.

[Exit.

Achil.

What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?

Patr.

They pass by strangely: they were us’d to bend,

To send their smiles before them to Achilles; 72

To come as humbly as they us’d to creep

To holy altars.

Achil.

What! am I poor of late?

’Tis certain, greatness, once fall’n out with fortune,

Must fall out with men too: what the declin’d is

He shall as soon read in the eyes of others 77

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, 80

Hath any honour, but honour for those honours

That are without him, as places, riches, and favour,

Prizes of accident as oft as merit:

Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, 84

The love that lean’d on them as slippery too,

Do one pluck down another, and together

Die in the fall. But ’tis not so with me:

Fortune and I are friends: I do enjoy 88

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: 92

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 parted,

How much in having, or without or in, 97

Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,

Nor feels not what he owes but by reflection;

As when his virtues shining upon others 100

Heat them, and they retort that heat again

To the first giver.

Achil.

This is not strange, Ulysses!

The beauty that is borne here in the face

The bearer knows not, but commends itself 104

To others’ eyes: nor doth the eye itself—

That most pure spirit of sense—behold itself,

Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos’d

Salutes each other with each other’s form; 108

For speculation turns not to itself

Till it hath travell’d and is mirror’d there

Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all.

Ulyss.

I do not strain at the position, 112

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— 116

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’re extended; who, like an arch, reverberates 120

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 124

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! 128

What things again most dear in the esteem

And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow,

An act that very chance doth throw upon him,

Ajax renown’d. O heavens! what some men do; 132

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, 136

While pride is fasting 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, 140

And great Troy shrinking.

Achil.

I do believe it; for they pass’d by me

As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me

Good word or look: what! are my deeds forgot?

Ulyss.

Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, 145

Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,

A great-siz’d monster of ingratitudes:

Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour’d 148

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 152

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 156

That one by one pursue: if you give way,

Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,

Like to an enter’d tide they all rush by

And leave you hindmost; 160

Or, like a gallant horse fall’n in first rank,

Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,

O’errun and trampled on: then what they do in present,

Though less than yours in past, must o’ertop yours; 164

For time is like a fashionable host,

That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,

And with his arms outstretch’d, as he would fly,

Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, 168

And farewell goes out sighing. O! let not virtue seek

Remuneration for the thing it was;

For beauty, wit,

High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, 172

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, 176

Though they are made and moulded of things past,

And give to dust that is a little gilt

More laud than gilt o’er-dusted.

The present eye praises the present object: 180

Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,

That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;

Since things in motion sooner catch the eye

Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee, 184

And still it might, and yet it may again,

If thou wouldst 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, 189

And drave great Mars to faction.

Achil.

Of this my privacy

I have strong reasons.

Ulyss.

But ’gainst your privacy

The reasons are more potent and heroical. 192

’Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love

With one of Priam’s daughters.

Achil.

Ha! known!

Ulyss.

Is that a wonder? 196

The providence that’s in a watchful state

Knows almost every grain of Plutus’ gold,

Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps,

Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods, 200

Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.

There is a mystery—with whom relation

Durst never meddle—in the soul of state,

Which hath an operation more divine 204

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 208

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, 213

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 break.

[Exit.

Patr.

To this effect, Achilles, have I mov’d you. 217

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 221

And your great love to me restrains you thus.

Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid

Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,

And, like a dew-drop from the lion’s mane, 225

Be shook to air.

Achil.

Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Patr.

Ay; and perhaps receive much honour by him.

Achil.

I see my reputation is at stake; 228

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; 232

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 236

T’ invite the Trojan lords after the combat

To see us here unarmed. I have a woman’s longing,

An appetite that I am sick withal,

To see great Hector in his weeds of peace; 240

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.

ACT IV.

Scene I.— Troy. A Street.

Enter, on one side, Æneas, and Servant with a torch; on 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 4

Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio.

That’s my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Æneas.

Par.

A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand:

Witness the process of your speech, wherein 8

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 12

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, 16

By Jove, I’ll play the hunter for thy life

With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

Æne.

And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly

With his face backward. In humane gentleness,

Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises’ life, 21

Welcome, indeed! By Venus’ hand I swear,

No man alive can love in such a sort

The thing he means to kill more excellently. 24

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, 28

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 despiteful gentle greeting, 32

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 36

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— 40

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 44

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 48

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, 52

Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best—

Myself or Menelaus?

Dio.

Both alike:

He merits well to have her that doth seek her—

Not making any scruple of her soilure— 56

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: 60

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: 64

Both merits pois’d, each weighs nor less nor more;

But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

Par.

You are too bitter to your country-woman.

Dio.

She’s bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris: 68

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, 72

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; 76

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 Pandarus’ House.

Cres.

Are you aweary of me?

Tro.

A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking: I shall have such a life!

Enter Pandarus.

Pan.

How now, how now! how go maiden-heads?

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 within.

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? 45

Enter Æneas.

Æne.

Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

Pan.

Who’s there? my Lord Æneas! By my troth,

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, 64

The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor

Deliver’d to us; and for him forthwith,

Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,

We must give up to Diomedes’ hand 68

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! 72

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 nature

Have not more gift in taciturnity. 76

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 can; 109

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. 113

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, 4

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 8

A priest, there offering to it his own heart.

[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,

And violenteth in a sense as strong 4

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: 8

My love admits no qualifying dross;

No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter Troilus.

Pan.

Here, here, here he comes. Ah! sweet ducks.

Cres.

[Embracing him.] O Troilus! Troilus!

Pan.

What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too. ‘O heart,’ as the goodly saying is,—

O heart, heavy heart, 16

Why sigh’st thou without breaking?

when he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy smart

By friendship nor by speaking. 20

There was never a truer rime. 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 purity, 24

That the bless’d gods, as angry with my fancy,

More bright in zeal than the devotion which

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 36

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 one. 41

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, 44

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,

Distasted with the salt of broken tears. 48

Æne.

For it is parting from us: 61

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; 64

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 68

Hear why I speak it, love:

The Grecian youths are full of quality; 76

They’re loving, well compos’d, with gifts of nature,

Flowing and swelling o’er with arts and exercise:

How novelty may move, and parts with person,

Alas! a kind of godly jealousy,— 80

Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,—

Makes me afear’d.

Cres.

O heavens! you love me not.

Tro.

Die I a villain, then!

In this I do not call your faith in question 84

So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,

Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,

Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,

To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant: 88

Good brother, come you hither;

And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you. 100

Cres.

My lord, will you be true?

Tro.

Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:

While others fish with craft for great opinion,

I with great truth catch mere simplicity; 104

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 109

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. 112

Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek,

If e’er thou stand at mercy of my sword,

Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe

As Priam is in Ilion.

Dio.

Fair Lady Cressid, 116

So please you, save the thanks this prince expects:

The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,

Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed

You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.

Tro.

Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously, 121

To shame the zeal of my petition to thee

In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece,

She is as far high-soaring o’er thy praises 124

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 lust; and know you, lord, 132

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. 137

Lady, give me your hand, and, as you walk,

To our own selves bend we our needful talk.

[Exeunt Troilus, Cressida, and Diomedes. Trumpet sounded.

Par.

Hark! Hector’s trumpet.

Æne.

How have we spent this morning!

The prince must think me tardy and remiss, 141

That swore to ride before him to the field.

Par.

’Tis Troilus’ fault. Come, come, to field with him.

Dei.

Let us make ready straight. 144

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 4

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 cheek 8

Outswell 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. 12

Agam.

Is not yond Diomed with Calchas’ daughter?

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. 16

Enter Diomedes, 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; 20

’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: 24

Achilles bids you welcome.

Men.

I had good argument for kissing once.

Patr.

But that’s no argument for kissing now;

For thus popp’d Paris in his hardiment, 28

And parted thus you and your argument.

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: 32

Patroclus kisses you.

Men.

O! this is trim.

Patr.

No, Paris is not; for, you know ’tis true,

That you are odd, and he is even with you. 44

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.

At every joint and motive of her body.

O! these encounterers, so glib of tongue,

That give a coasting welcome ere it comes,

And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts

To every tickling reader, set them down 61

For sluttish spoils of opportunity

And daughters of the game.

[Trumpet within.

All.

The Trojans’ trumpet.

Agam.

Yonder comes the troop. 64

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 68

Pursue each other, or shall be divided

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. 72

Achil.

’Tis done like Hector; but securely done,

A little proudly, and great deal misprising

The knight oppos’d.

Æne.

If not Achilles, sir.

What is your name?

Achil.

If not Achilles, nothing. 76

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, 80

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; 84

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.

Re-enter Diomedes.

Agam.

Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight, 88

Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord Æneas

Consent upon the order of their fight,

So be it; either to the uttermost,

Or else a breath: the combatants being kin 92

Half stints their strife before their strokes begin.

[Ajax and Hector enter the lists.

Ulyss.

They are oppos’d already.

Agam.

What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?

Ulyss.

The youngest son of Priam, a true knight: 96

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; 100

For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows;

Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty,

Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath.

Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; 104

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 108

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. 112

[Alarum. Hector and Ajax fight.

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. 116

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; 120

The obligation of our blood forbids

A gory emulation ’twixt us twain.

Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so

That thou couldst say, ‘This hand is Grecian all,

And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg 125

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, 128

Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member

Wherein my sword had not impressure made

Of our rank feud. But the just gods gainsay

That any drop thou borrow’dst from thy mother,

My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword 133

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. 140

Hect.

Not Neoptolemus so mirable,

On whose bright crest Fame with her loud’st byes

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, 145

What further 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 149

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; 156

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 160

Shall find him by his large and portly size.

Agam.

Worthy of arms! 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 165

And formless ruin of oblivion;

But in this extant moment, faith and troth,

Strain’d purely from all hollow bias-drawing, 168

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, 184

As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed,

Despising many forfeits and subduements,

When thou hast hung thy advanc’d sword i’ th’ air,

Not letting it decline on the declin’d; 188

That I have said to some my standers-by,

‘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 in, 192

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; 196

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. 200

Hect.

Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,

That hast so long walk’d hand in hand with time:

Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.

Nest.

I would my arms could match thee in contention, 204

As they contend with thee in courtesy.

Hect.

I would they could.

Nest.

Ha!

By this white beard, I’d fight with thee to-morrow. 208

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: 216

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: 220

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, 224

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. 228

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,

Thou art too brief: I will the second time, 236

As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.

Hect.

O! like a book of sport thou’lt read me o’er;

But there’s more in me than thou understand’st.

Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?

Achil.

Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body 241

Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, or there?

That I may give the local wound a name,

And make distinct the very breach whereout 244

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 248

As to prenominate in nice conjecture

Where thou wilt hit me dead?

Achil.

I tell thee, yea.

Hect.

Wert thou an oracle to tell me so,

I’d not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well,

For I’ll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there;

But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm,

I’ll kill thee every where, yea, o’er and o’er.

You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag; 256

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, 260

Till accident or purpose bring you to’t:

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 him. 264

Hect.

I pray you, let us see you in the field;

We have had pelting wars since you refus’d

The Grecians’ cause.

Achil.

Dost thou entreat me, Hector?

To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death; 268

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 we afterwards,

As Hector’s leisure and your bounties shall 272

Concur together, severally entreat him.

Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow,

That this great soldier may his welcome know.

[Exeunt all except 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 earth,

But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view 281

On the fair Cressid.

Tro.

Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to thee so much,

After we part from Agamemnon’s tent, 284

To bring me thither?

Ulyss.

You shall command me, sir.

As gentle tell me, of what honour was

This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there

That wails her absence? 288

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’d; 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.

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, 44

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. 49

Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent;

This night in banqueting must all be spent.

Away, Patroclus! 52

[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 leg, 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! 74

Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomedes, with lights.

Agam.

We go wrong, we go wrong.

Ajax.

Sweet draught: ‘sweet,’ quoth a’! sweet sink, sweet sewer. 85

Achil.

Good-night and welcome both at once, to those

That go or tarry.

Agam.

Good-night. 88

[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. 92

Hect.

Give me your hand.

Ulyss.

[Aside to Troilus.] Follow his torch; he goes to Calchas’ tent.

I’ll keep you company.

Tro.

Sweet sir, you honour me.

Hect.

And so, good-night. 96

[Exit Diomedes; 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 Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell 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.

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. 4

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! 8

Ulyss.

She will sing any man at first sight.

Ther.

And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff; she’s noted.

Dio.

Will you remember? 12

Cres.

Remember! yes.

Dio.

You are mov’d, prince; let us depart, I pray you,

Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself

To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous; 36

The time right deadly. I beseech you, go.

Tro.

Behold, I pray you!

Ulyss.

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. 52

Ther.

How the devil Luxury, with his fat rump and potato finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry!

Dio.

Ulyss.

My lord,—

Tro.

I will be patient; outwardly I will.

Cres.

Thy master now lies thinking in his bed

Of thee and me; and sighs, and takes my glove,

And gives me norial dainty kisses to it, 77

As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me;

He that takes that doth take my heart withal.

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 me

Pleases me best. 100

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 prithee, come.—

[Exit Diomedes.

Troilus, farewell! one eye yet looks on thee, 104

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. 109

[Exit.

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 113

Of every syllable that here was spoke.

But if I tell how these two did co-act,

Shall I not lie in publishing a truth? 116

Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,

An esperance so obstinately strong,

That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears,

As if those organs had deceptions functions,

Created only to calumniate. 121

Let it not be believ’d for womanhood!

Think we had mothers; do not give advantage

To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme, 128

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? 133

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, 136

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 itself; 140

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 144

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 148

As Ariachne’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; 153

And with another knot, five-finger-tied,

The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,

The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy reliques 156

Of her o’er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.

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 160

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, 164

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, 169

Constring’d in mass by the almighty sun,

Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune’s ear

In his descent than shall my prompted sword

Falling on Diomed. 173

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, 176

And they’ll seem glorious.

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: 180

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! 184

Ulyss.

I’ll bring you to the gates.

Tro.

Accept distracted thanks.

[Exeunt Troilus, Æneas, and Ulysses.

Ther.

Would I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like a raven; I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus would 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: 4

By all the everlasting gods, I’ll go.

And.

My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day.

Hect.

Cas.

The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows: 16

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: it is as lawful, 20

For we would give much, to use violent thefts,

And rob in the behalf of charity.

Cas.

It is the purpose that makes strong the vow;

But vows to every purpose must not hold. 24

Unarm, sweet Hector.

Hect.

Hold you still, I say;

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate:

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? 29

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: 32

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. 36

Tro.

Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,

Their eyes o’ergalled with recourse of tears;

Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn, 56

Oppos’d to hinder me, should stop my way,

But by my ruin.

Re-enter Cassandra, with Priam.

Cas.

Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast:

He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay, 60

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 64

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, 68

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, 72

Let me not shame respect, but give me leave

To take that course by your consent and voice,

Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam.

Cas.

O Priam! yield not to him.

And.

Do not, dear father. 76

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. 80

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 dolours forth!

Behold, distraction, frenzy, and amazement, 85

Like witless anticks, one another meet,

And all cry Hector! Hector’s dead! O Hector!

Tro.

Away! Away! 88

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. 93

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. 96

Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart;

The effect doth operate another way.

[Tearing the letter.

Go, wind to wind, there turn and change together.

My love with words and errors still she feeds,

But edifies another with her deeds. 113

[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, on a sleeveless errand. O’ the other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals,—that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and that same dog-fox, Ulysses, is not 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 t’ other. 20

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. 24

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? 28

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.

Scene V.— Another Part of the Plains.

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, 4

And am her knight by proof.

Serv.

I go, my lord.

[Exit.

Enter Agamemnon.

Agam.

Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas

Hath beat down Menon; bastard Margarelon

Hath Doreus prisoner, 8

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; 12

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. 16

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, 20

And there lacks work; anon he’s there afoot,

And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls

Before the belching whale; then is he yonder,

And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,

Fall down before him, like the mower’s swath:

Here, there, and everywhere, he leaves and takes,

Dexterity so obeying appetite

That what he will he does; and does so much

That proof is called impossibility. 29

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, 33

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, 36

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 40

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; 45

Know what it is to meet Achilles angry:

Hector! where’s Hector? I will none but Hector.

[Exeunt.

Scene VI.— Another Part of the Plains.

Enter Ajax.

Ajax.

Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head!

Enter Diomedes.

Dio.

Troilus, I say! where’s Troilus?

Ajax.

What wouldst thou?

Dio.

I would correct him.

Ajax.

Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office 4

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? 8

Ajax.

I’ll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed.

Dio.

I would have been much more a fresher man, 20

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 ta’en too, 24

Or bring him off. Fate, hear me what I say!

I reck not though I end 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; 28

I’ll frush it, and unlock the rivets all,

But I’ll be master of it. Wilt thou not, beast, abide?

Why then, fly on, I’ll hunt thee for thy hide.

[Exeunt.

Scene VII.— Another Part of the Plains.

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, 4

Empale him with your weapons round about;

In fellest manner execute your aims.

Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye:

It is decreed, Hector the great must die. 8

[Exeunt.

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?

Mar.

A bastard son of Priam’s. 16

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.

[Exit.

Mar.

The devil take thee, coward!

[Exit.

Scene VIII.— Another Part of the Plains.

Enter Hector.

Hect.

Most putrefied core, so fair without,

Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.

Now is my day’s work done; I’ll take good breath:

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; 4

Great Hector was a man as good as he.

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, 8

Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.

[Exeunt marching.

Scene X.— Another Part of the Plains.

Enter Æneas and Trojans.

Æne.

Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field.

Never go home; 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, 4

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 Troy!

I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, 8

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; 12

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 16

Go in to Troy, and say there Hector’s dead:

There is a word will Priam turn to stone,

Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,

Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word, 20

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 pight upon our Phrygian plains,

Let Titan rise as early as he dare, 25

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, 28

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! 32

Tro.

Hence, broker lackey! ignomy and shame

Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name!

[Exit.

Pan.

A goodly medicine for my 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 loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it?—Let me see!— 41

Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,

Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;

And being once subdu’d in armed tail, 44

Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.

Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths.

As many as be here of pander’s hall,  48

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,  52

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 hiss.

Till then I’ll sweat, and seek about for eases;  56

And at that time bequeath you my diseases

[Exit.