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TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
} Trojan Commanders.
Priam, King of Troy.
Grecian Commanders. Paris, his Sons.
THERsites, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian. ANTENOR,
ALEXANDER, Servant to Cressida.
Helen, wife to Menelaus.
ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector. MENELAUS, his Brother.
CASsandka, Daughter to Priam; a Prophetess.
Cressida, Daughter to Calchas.
THE PROLOGUE (in Armour).
Sperr up the sons of Troy.
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore
On one and other side, Trojan and Greek, Their crownets regal, from th' Athenian bay
Sets all on hazard.--And hither am I come Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made, A Prologue arm’d, but not in confidence To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures Of author's pen, or actor's voice, but suited The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,
In like conditions as our argument -With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel. To tell you, fair beholders, that our play To Tenedos they come,
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils, And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Beginning in the middle; starting thence away Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan plains To what may be digested in a play. The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are ; Their brave pavilions : Priam's six-gated city, Now, good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan,
ACT I. SCENE I. --Troy. Before Priam's Palace.
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance;
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this : for my That find such cruel battle here within ?
part, I ll 110t meddle nor make no farther. He that Each Trojan, that is master of his heart,
will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the Let him to field; Troilus, alas ! hath none.
grinding Pan. Will this gear ne'er be mended ?
Tro. Have I not tarried ? Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the strength,
bolting Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; Tro. Have I not tarried ?
Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours ! peace, rude leavening.
sounds! Tro. Still have I tarried.
Fools on both sides ! Helen must needs be fair, Pan. Ay, to the leavening : but here's yet, in the When with your blood you daily paint her thus. word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake, I cannot fight upon this argument; the heating the oven, and the baking: nay, you must It is too starv'd a subject for my sword. stay the cooling too, or you may chance burn your lips. But Pandarus !- gods, how do you plague me !
Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar; Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do,
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo,
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl : ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
Between our llium, and where she resides, Tro. I was about to tell thee,—when my heart, Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood; As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,
Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar, Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark. I have (as when the sun doth light a storm)
Alarum. Enter Æneas. Bury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile;
Æne. How now, prince Troilus ! wherefore not But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
afield ? Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
Tro. Because not there: this woman's answer sorts, Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than For womanish it is to be from thence. Helen's, (well, go to) there were no more comparison What news, Æneas, from the field to-day? between the women,-but, for my part, she is my Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. kinswoman: I would not, as they term it, praise her, Tro. By whom, Æneas? -but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, Æne.
Troilus, by Menelaus. as I did: I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn; wit, but,
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [ Alarum. Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,-
Æne. Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day! When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd, Tro. Better at home, if “would I might,” were Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie indrench’d. I tell thee, I am mad
But to the sport abroad :--are you bound thither? In Cressid's love: thou answer'st, she is fair;
Æne. In all swift haste. Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
Tro. Come; go we, then, together. (Exeunt. Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;
SCENE II.-The Same. A Street.
Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER.
Queen Hecuba, and Helen. Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell’st me, Cres. And whither go they? As true thou tell'st me, when I say - I love her;
Up to the eastern tower, But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Whose height commands as subject all the vale, Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me To see the battle. Hector, whose patience The knife that made it.
Is as a virtue fix'd, to-day was mov'd: Pan. I speak no more than truth.
He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer; Tro. Thou dost not speak so much.
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw
What was his cause of anger? on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between Alex. The noise goes, thus: there is among the and between, but small thanks for my labour.
Pan. Because she's kin to me, therefore, she's not They call him, Ajax. so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she Cres.
and what of him? would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. Alex. They say he is a very man per se, But what care I? I care not, an she were a black-a- And stands alone. moor; 'tis all one to me.
Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, Tro. Say I, she is not fair ?
or have no legs. Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of fool to stay behind her father: 'let her to the Greeks; their particular additions: he is as valiant as the lion, and so I'll tell her the next time I see her. For my churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant; a man into part, I'll meddle nor make no more i’ the matter. whom nature hath so crowded humours, that his valour Tro. Pandarus.
is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion : Pan. Not I.
there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a Tro. Sweet Pandarus,
glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave stain of it.
He is melancholy without cause, and all as I found it, and there an end.
merry against the hair: he hath the joints of every [Exit Pandarus. An Alarum. thing; but every thing so out of joint, that he is a
gouty Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblind Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris. Argus, all eyes and no sight.
Cres. Why, Paris hath colour enough. Cres. But how should this man, that makes me Pan. So he has. smile, make Hector angry?
Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much: if she Alex. They say, he yesterday coped Hector in the praised him above, his complexion is higher than his : battle, and struck him down; the disdain and shame he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and flarning a praise for a good complexion. I had as waking.
lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus Enter PANDARUS.
for a copper nose. Cres. Who comes here?
Pan. I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
than Paris. Cres. Hector's a gallant man.
Cres. Then she's a merry Greek, indeed. Alex. As may be in the world, lady.
Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him Pan. What's that? what's that?
th' other day into the compassed window; and, you Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin. Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetick may soon bring talk of?—Good morrow, Alexander.-How do you, his particulars therein to a total. cousin ? When were you at Ilium ?
Pan. Why, he is very young; and yet will he, Cres. This morning, uncle.
within three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector. Pan. What were you talking of, when I came? Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter? Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium? Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him :Helen was not up, was she?
she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven Cres. Hector was gone ; but Helen was not up. chin, Pan. E'en so : Hector was stirring early.
Cres. Juno have mercy! How came it cloven ? Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger. Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled. I think his Pan. Was he angry?
smiling becomes him better than any man in all Cres. So he says, here.
Phrygia. Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too. He'll Cres. O! he smiles valiantly. lay about him to-day, I can tell them that; and there's Pan. Does he not? Troilus will not come far behind him : let them take Cres. O! yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too.
Pan. Why, go to then.-But to prove to you that Cres. What, is he angry too?
Helen loves Troilus,Pan. Who, Troilus ? Troilus is the better man of Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll proveitso. the two.
Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more than I Cres. 0, Jupiter! there's no comparison.
esteem an addle egg. Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector ?
Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you love you know a man if you see him ?
an idle head, you would eat chickens i’ the shell. Cres. Ay; if I ever saw him before, and knew him. Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.
tickled his chin :-indeed, she has a marvellous white Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is hand, I must needs confess. not Hector.
Cres. Without the rack. Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees. Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. on his chin.
Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer, were,
Pan. But, there was such laughing : queen Hecuba Cres. So he is.
laughed, that her eyes ran o'er. Pan. —Condition, I had gone bare-foot to India. Cres. With mill-stones. Cres. He is not Hector.
Pan. And Cassandra laughed. Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself. - Would 'a Cres. But there was more temperate fire under the were himself! Well, the gods are above; time must pot of her eyes : did her eyes run o'er too? friend, or end. Well, Troilus, well..I would, my Pan. And Hector laughed. heart were in her body !-No, Hector is not a better Cres. At what was all this laughing? man than Troilus.
Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Cres. Excuse me.
Troilus' chin. Pan. He is elder.
Cres. An't had been a green hair I should have Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.
laughed too. Pan. Th’ other's not come to't; you shall tell me Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair, as at another tale, when th' other's come to't. Hector shall his pretty answer. not have his wit this year.
Cres. What was his answer? Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own. Pan. Quoth she, “Here's but two and fifty hairs Pan. Nor his qualities.
on your chin, and one of them is white." Cres. No matter.
Čres. This is her question. Pan. Nor his beauty.
Pan. That's true; make no question of that. "Two Cres. "Twould not become him ; his own's better. and fifty hairs," quoth he, "and one white: that
Pan. You have no judgment, niece. Helen herself white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons." swore th' other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour, “ Jupiter !" quoth she, "which of these hairs is Paris, (for so 'tis, I must confess)—not brown neither- my husband ?" “ The forked one,” quoth he; “pluck't Cres. No, but brown.
out, and give it him.” But there was such laughing, Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the Cres. To say the truth, true and not true.
rest so laughed, that it passed.
Cres. So let it now, for it has been a great while look well upon him, niece: look you how his sword is going by.
bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than Hector's; Pan. 'Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; and how he looks, and how he goes !-O admirable think on't.
youth! he ne'er saw three and twenty. Go thy way, Cres. So I do.
Troilus, go thy way: had I a sister were a grace, or a Pan. I'll be sworn, 'tis true: he will weep you, an daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. O 'twere a man born in April.
admirable man! Paris ?- Paris is dirt to him; and, Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to nettle against May.
[A retreat sounded. boot.
Soldiers pass over the Stage.
Pan. Asses, fools, dolts, chaff and bran, chaff and
bran; porridge after meat. I could live and die i'the
Cres. There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better
man than Trojlus.
Pan. Well, well?_Why, have you any discretion ?
have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is ?
Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood,
Pan. You are such a woman ! one knows not at
what ward you
Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my
wit, to defend my wiles ; upon my secrecy, to defend
mine honesty; upon my mask, to defend my beauty ;
Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of
the chiefest of them too : if I cannot ward what I
Enter Troilus' Boy.
Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.
Cres. By the same token, you are a bawd.-
Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice,
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be.
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing;
, where Troilus is.—Hark! do you not hear That she belov'd knows nought, that knows not
That she was never yet, that ever knew
Achieved men still command ; ungain'd, beseech:
Then, though my heart's content firm love doth bear,
SCENE III.—The Grecian Camp. Before Agamem- I give to both your speeches, which were such, non's Tent.
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, Nestor, Ulysses,
Should hold up high in brass ; and such again,
As Venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver,
Should with a bond of air (strong as the axletree
On which heaven rides) knit all the Greekish ears What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks ? To his experienc'd tongue, yet let it please both, The ample proposition, that hope makes
Thou great, -and wise,-to hear Ulysses speak. In all designs begun on earth below,
Agam. Speak, prince of Ithaca; and be't of less Fails in the promis’d largeness : checks and disasters
expect Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd;
That matter needless, of importless burden, As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,
Divide thy lips, than we are confident, Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain
When rank Thersites opes his mastiff jaws, Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
We shall hear music, wit, and oracle. Nor, princes, is it matter new to us,
Ulyss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down,
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master,
The specialty of rule hath been neglected :
And look, how many Grecian tents do stand Bias and thwart, not answering the aim,
this plain, so many hollow factions. And that unbodied figure of the thought
When that the general is not like the hive,
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre,
Observe degree, priority, and place, The fineness of which metal is not found
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, In fortune's love; for then, the bold and coward, Office, and custom, in all line of order: The wise and fool, the artist and unread,
And therefore is the glorious planet, Sol, The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin:
In noble eminence enthron’d and spher'd But, in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Amidst the other; whose med'cinable
eye Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, Puffing at all, winnows the light away;
And posts, like the commandment of a king, And what hath mass, or matter, by itself
Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets,
In evil mixture, to disorder wander,
What raging of the sea, shaking of earth,
Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors, Lies the true proof of men.
The sea being smooth, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
The unity and married calm of states Upon her patient breast, making their way
Quite from their fixure! O! when degree is shak’d, With those of nobler bulk :
Which is the ladder to all high designs, But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The enterprize is sick. How could communities, The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold,
Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities, The strong-ribb’d bark through liquid mountains cut, Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, Bounding between the two moist elements
The primogenitive and due of birth,
But by degree stand in authentic place?
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets
And the rude son should strike his father dead: And flies fled under shade, why then, the thing of Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong, courage,
(Between whose endless jar justice resides) As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize, Should lose their names, and so should justice too. And with an accent tun'd in self-samé key,
Then every thing includes itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite;
And appetite, an universal wolf,
Must make perforce an universal prey,
And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,
Follows the choking:
[To Agamemnon. That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life,- It hath to climb. The general's disdain'd
[To Nestor. By him one step below; he, by the next;