Troilus and Cressida

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Original text
Act I, Scene I
Enter Pandarus and Troylus.

Troylus.
CAll here my Varlet, Ile vnarme againe.
Why should I warre without the wals of Troy
That finde such cruell battell here within?
Each Troian that is master of his heart,
Let him to field, Troylus alas hath none.

Pan.
Will this geere nere be mended?

Troy.
The Greeks are strong, & skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenesse Valiant:
But I am weaker then a womans teare;
Tamer then sleepe, fonder then ignorance;
Lesse valiant then the Virgin in the night,
And skillesse as vnpractis'd Infancie.

Pan.
Well, I haue told you enough of this: For my
part, Ile not meddle nor make no farther. Hee that will
haue a Cake out of the Wheate, must needes tarry the
grinding.

Troy.
Haue I not tarried?

Pan.
I the grinding; but you must tarry the
bolting.

Troy.
Haue I not tarried?

Pan.
I the boulting; but you must tarry the
leau'ing.

Troy.
Still haue I tarried.

Pan.
I, to the leauening: but heeres yet in the
word hereafter, the Kneading, the making of the Cake,
the heating of the Ouen, and the Baking; nay, you must
stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burne your
lips.

Troy.
Patience her selfe, what Goddesse ere she be,
Doth lesser blench at sufferance, then I doe:
At Priams Royall Table doe I sit;
And when faire Cressid comes into my thoughts,
So (Traitor) then she comes, when she is thence.

Pan.
Well: / She look'd yesternight fairer, then euer
I saw her looke, / Or any woman else.

Troy.
I was about to tell thee, when my heart,
As wedged with a sigh, would riue in twaine,
Least Hector, or my Father should perceiue me:
I haue (as when the Sunne doth light a-scorne)
Buried this sigh, in wrinkle of a smile:
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladnesse,
Is like that mirth, Fate turnes to sudden sadnesse.

Pan.
And her haire were not somewhat darker then
Helens, well go too, there were no more comparison
betweene the Women. But for my part she is my
Kinswoman, I would not (as they tearme it) praise it, but I
wold some-body had heard her talke yesterday as I did:
I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but---

Troy.
Oh Pandarus! I tell thee Pandarus;
When I doe tell thee, there my hopes lye drown'd:
Reply not in how many Fadomes deepe
They lye indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Cressids loue. Thou answer'st she is Faire,
Powr'st in the open Vlcer of my heart,
Her Eyes, her Haire, her Cheeke, her Gate, her Voice,
Handlest in thy discourse. O that her Hand
(In whose comparison, all whites are Inke)
Writing their owne reproach; to whose soft seizure,
The Cignets Downe is harsh, and spirit of Sense
Hard as the palme of Plough-man. This thou tel'st me;
As true thou tel'st me, when I say I loue her:
But saying thus, instead of Oyle and Balme,
Thou lai'st in euery gash that loue hath giuen me,
The Knife that made it.

Pan.
I speake no more then truth.

Troy.
Thou do'st not speake so much.

Pan.
Faith, Ile not meddle in't: Let her be as shee is,
if she be faire, 'tis the better for her: and she be not, she
ha's the mends in her owne hands.

Troy.
Good Pandarus: How now Pandarus?

Pan.
I haue had my Labour for my trauell,
ill thought on of her, and ill thought on of you: Gone
betweene and betweene, but small thankes for my labour.

Troy.
What art thou angry Pandarus? what with
me?

Pan.
Because she's Kinne to me, therefore shee's not
so faire as Helen, and she were not kin to me, she would
be as faire on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what
care I? I care not and she were a Black-a-Moore, 'tis all one
to me.

Troy.
Say I she is not faire?

Troy.
I doe not care whether you doe or no. Shee's a
Foole to stay behinde her Father: Let her to the Greeks,
and so Ile tell her the next time I see her: for my part,
Ile meddle nor make no more i'th' matter.

Troy.
Pandarus?

Pan.
Not I.

Troy.
Sweete Pandarus.

Pan.
Pray you speake no more to me, I will leaue
all as I found it, and there an end.
Exit Pand. Sound Alarum.

Tro.
Peace you vngracious Clamors, peace rude sounds,
Fooles on both sides, Helen must needs be faire,
When with your bloud you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight vpon this Argument:
It is too staru'd a subiect for my Sword,
But Pandarus: O Gods! How do you plague me?
I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar,
And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woe,
As she is stubborne, chast, against all suite.
Tell me Apollo for thy Daphnes Loue
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we:
Her bed is India, there she lies, a Pearle,
Between our Ilium, and where shee recides
Let it be cald the wild and wandring flood,
Our selfe the Merchant, and this sayling Pandar,
Our doubtfull hope, our conuoy and our Barke.
Alarum. Enter Aneas.

Ane.
How now Prince Troylus? / Wherefore not a field?

Troy.
Because not there; this womans answer sorts.
For womanish it is to be from thence:
What newes Aneas from the field to day?

Ane.
That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

Troy.
By whom Aneas?

Ane.
Troylus by Menelaus.

Troy.
Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorne.
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus horne.
Alarum.

Ane.
Harke what good sport is out of Towne to day.

Troy.
Better at home, if would I might were may:
But to the sport abroad, are you bound thither?

Ane.
In all swift hast.

Troy.
Come goe wee then togither.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act I, Scene II
Enter Cressid and her man.

Cre.
Who were those went by?

Man.
Queene Hecuba, and Hellen.

Cre.
And whether go they?

Man.
Vp to the Easterne Tower,
Whose height commands as subiect all the vaile,
To see the battell: Hector whose pacience,
Is as a Vertue fixt, to day was mou'd:
He chides Andromache and strooke his Armorer,
And like as there were husbandry in Warre
Before the Sunne rose, hee was harnest lyte,
And to the field goe's he; where euery flower
Did as a Prophet weepe what it forsaw,
In Hectors wrath.

Cre.
What was his cause of anger?

Man.
The noise goe's this; / There is among the Greekes,
A Lord of Troian blood, Nephew to Hector,
They call him Aiax.

Cre.
Good; and what of him?

Man.
They say he is a very man per se
and stands alone.

Cre.
So do all men, vnlesse they are drunke, sicke, or
haue no legges.

Man.
This man Lady, hath rob'd many beasts
of their particular additions, he is as valiant as the Lyon,
churlish as the Beare, slow as the Elephant: a man into
whom nature hath so crowded humors, that his valour
is crusht into folly, his folly sauced with discretion:
there is no man hath a vertue, that he hath not a
glimpse of, nor any man an attaint, but he carries some
staine of it. He is melancholy without cause, and merry
against the haire, hee hath the ioynts of euery thing, but
euery thing so out ot ioynt, that hee is a gowtie Briareus,
many hands and no vse; or purblinded Argus, all eyes
and no sight.

Cre.
But how should this man that makes me
smile, make Hector angry?

Man.
They say he yesterday cop'd Hector in the
battell and stroke him downe, the disdaind & shame
whereof, hath euer since kept Hector fasting and
waking.

Cre.
Who comes here?

Man.
Madam your Vncle Pandarus.
Enter Pandarus.

Cre.
Hectors a gallant man.

Man.
As may be in the world Lady.

Pan.
What's that? what's that?

Cre.
Good morrow Vncle Pandarus.

Pan.
Good morrow Cozen Cressid: what do you
talke of? good morrow Alexander: how do you
Cozen? when were you at Illium?

Cre.
This morning Vncle.

Pan.
What were you talking of when I came? Was
Hector arm'd and gon ere yea came to Illium? Hellen
was not vp? was she?

Cre.
Hector was gone but Hellen was not vp?

Pan.
E'ene so; Hector was stirring early.

Cre.
That were we talking of, and of his anger.

Pan.
Was he angry?

Cre.
So he saies here.

Pan.
True he was so; I know the cause too, heele
lay about him to day I can tell them that, and there's
Troylus will not come farre behind him, let them take
heede of Troylus; I can tell them that too.

Cre.
What is he angry too?

Pan.
Who Troylus? / Troylus is the better man of
the two.

Cre.
Oh Iupiter; there's no comparison.

Pan.
What not betweene Troylus and Hector? do
you know a man if you see him?

Cre.
I, if I euer saw him before and knew him.

Pan.
Well I say Troylus is Troylus.

Cre.
Then you say as I say, / For I am sure he is not
Hector.

Pan.
No not Hector is not Troylus in some
degrees.

Cre.
'Tis iust, to each of them he is himselfe.

Pan.
Himselfe? alas poore Troylus I would he
were.

Cre.
So he is.

Pan.
Condition I had gone bare-foote to India.

Cre.
He is not Hector.

Pan.
Himselfe? no? hee's not himselfe, would a
were himselfe: well, the Gods are aboue, time must
friend or end: well Troylus well, I would my heart
were in her body; no, Hector is not a better man then
Troylus.

Cre.
Excuse me.

Pan.
He is elder.

Cre.
Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan.
Th'others not come too't, you shall tell me
another tale when th'others come too't: Hector shall
not haue his will this yeare.

Cre.
He shall not neede it if he haue his owne.

Pan.
Nor his qualities.

Cre.
No matter.

Pan.
Nor his beautie.

Cre.
'Twould not become him, his own's better.

Pan.
You haue no iudgement Neece; Hellen her selfe
swore th'other day, that Troylus for a browne fauour
(for so 'tis I must confesse) not browne neither.

Cre.
No, but browne.

Pan.
Faith to say truth, browne and not browne.

Cre.
To say the truth, true and not true.

Pan.
She prais'd his complexion aboue Paris.

Cre.
Why Paris hath colour inough.

Pan.
So he has.

Cre.
Then Troylus should haue too much, if she
prasi'd him aboue, his complexion is higher then his,
he hauing colour enough, and the other higher, is too
flaming a praise for a good complexion, I had as lieue
Hellens golden tongue had commended Troylus for a
copper nose.

Pan.
I sweare to you, / I thinke Hellen loues him better
then Paris.

Cre.
Then shee's a merry Greeke indeed.

Pan.
Nay I am sure she does, she came to him
th'other day into the compast window, and you
know he has not past three or foure haires on his chinne.

Cres.
Indeed a Tapsters Arithmetique may soone bring
his particulars therein, to a totall.

Pand.
Why he is very yong, and yet will he within
three pound lift as much as his brother Hector.

Cres.
Is he is so young a man, and so old a lifter?

Pan.
But to prooue to you that Hellen loues him, she
came and puts me her white hand to his clouen chin.

Cres.
Iuno haue mercy, how came it clouen?

Pan.
Why, you know 'tis dimpled, / I thinke his
smyling becomes him better then any man in all
Phrigia.

Cre.
Oh he smiles valiantly.

Pan.
Dooes hee not?

Cre.
Oh yes, and 'twere a clow'd in Autumne.

Pan.
Why go to then, but to proue to you that
Hellen loues Troylus.

Cre.
Troylus wil stand to thee / Proofe, if youle prooue
it so.

Pan.
Troylus? why he esteemes her no more then
I esteeme an addle egge.

Cre.
If you loue an addle egge as well as you loue an
idle head, you would eate chickens i'th' shell.

Pan.
I cannot chuse but laugh to thinke how she
tickled his chin, indeed shee has a maruel's white
hand I must needs confesse.

Cre.
Without the racke.

Pan.
And shee takes vpon her to spie a white haire on
his chinne.

Cre.
Alas poore chin? many a wart is richer.

Pand.
But there was such laughing, Queene Hecuba
laught that her eyes ran ore.

Cre.
With Milstones.

Pan.
And Cassandra laught.

Cre.
But there was more temperate fire vnder the
pot of her eyes: did her eyes run ore too?

Pan.
And Hector laught.

Cre.
At what was all this laughing?

Pand.
Marry at the white haire that Hellen spied on
Troylus chin.

Cres.
And t'had beene a greene haire, I should haue
laught too.

Pand.
They laught not so much at the haire, as at
his pretty answere.

Cre.
What was his answere?

Pan.
Quoth shee, heere's but two and fifty haires on
your chinne; and one of them is white.

Cre.
This is her question.

Pand
That's true, make no question of that, two
and fiftie haires quoth hee, and one white, that white
haire is my Father, and all the rest are his Sonnes. Iupiter
quoth she, which of these haires is Paris my husband?
The forked one quoth he, pluckt out and giue it
him: but there was such laughing, and Hellen so
blusht, and Paris so chaft, and all the rest so
laught, that it past.

Cre.
So let it now, / For is has beene a grcat while
going by.

Pan.
Well Cozen, / I told you a thing yesterday,
think on't.

Cre.
So I does.

Pand.
Ile be sworne 'tis true, he will weepe you an
'twere a man borne in Aprill. Sound a retreate.

Cres.
And Ile spring vp in his teares , an'twere a
nettle against May.



Pan.
Harke they are comming from the field, shal
we stand vp here and see them, as they passe toward
Illium, good Neece do, sweet Neece Cressida.

Cre.
At your pleasure.

Pan.
Heere, heere, here's an excellent place, heere
we may see most brauely, Ile tel you them all by their
names, as they passe by, but marke Troylus aboue the rest. Enter Aneas.

Cre.
Speake not so low'd.


Pan.
That's Aneas, is not that a braue man, hee's
one of the flowers of Troy I can you, but marke
Troylus, you shal see anon.
Enter Antenor.

Cre.
Who's that?

Pan.
That's Antenor, he has a shrow'd wit I can
tell you, and hee's a man good inough, hee's one
o'th soundest iudgement in Troy whosoeuer, and a
proper man of person: when comes Troylus? Ile shew
you Troylus anon, if hee see me, you shall see him him nod at
me.

Cre.
Will he giue you the nod?

Pan.
You shall see.

Cre.
If he do, the rich shall haue, more.
Enter Hector.

Pan.
That's Hector, that, that, looke you, that
there's a fellow. Goe thy way Hector, there's a
braue man Neece, O braue Hector! Looke how hee
lookes? there's a countenance; ist not a braue man?

Cre.
O braue man!

Pan.
Is a not? It dooes a mans heart good, looke
you what hacks are on his Helmet, looke you yonder, do
you see? Looke you there? There's no iesting,
laying on, tak't off, who ill as they say, there be
hacks.

Cre.
Be those with Swords?

Pan.
Swords, any thing he cares not, and the diuell
come to him, it's all one, by Gods lid it dooes ones
heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris:


looke yee yonder Neece, ist not a gallant man to, ist
not? Why this is braue now: who said he came hurt
home to day? Hee's not hurt, why this will do Hellens
heart good now, ha? Would I could see Troylus now,
you shall Troylus anon.
Enter Hellenus.

Cre.
Whose that?

Pan.
That's Hellenus, I maruell where Troylus is,
that's Helenus, I thinke he went not forth to day:
that's Hellenus.

Cre.
Can Hellenus fight Vncle?

Pan.
Hellenus no: yes heele fight indifferent,
well, I maruell where Troylus is; harke, do you not haere
the people crie Troylus? Hellenus is a Priest.

Cre.
What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
Enter Trylus.

Pan.
Where? Yonder? That's Dophobus.'Tis
Troylus! Ther's a man Neece, hem? Braue Troylus
the Prince of Chiualrie.

Cre.
Peace, for shame peace.

Pand.
Marke him, not him: O braue Troylus: looke
well vpon him Neece, looke you how his Sword is
bloudied, and his Helme more hackt then Hectors,
and how he lookes, and how he goes. O admirable
youth! he ne're saw three and twenty. Go thy way
Troylus, go thy way, had I a sister were a Grace, or a
daughter a Goddesse, hee should take his choice. O
admirable man! Paris? Paris is durt to him, and I
warrant, Helen to change, would giue money to boot.
Enter common Souldiers.

Cres.
Heere come more.

Pan.
Asses, fooles, dolts, chaffe and bran, chaffe and
bran; porredge after meat. I could liue and dye i'th'
eyes of Troylus. Ne're looke, ne're looke; the Eagles are
gon, Crowes and Dawes, Crowes and Dawes: I had rather
be such a man as Troylus, then Agamemnon, and all
Greece.

Cres.
There is among the Greekes Achilles, a better
man then Troylus.

Pan.
Achilles? a Dray-man, a Porter, a very Camell.

Cres.
Well, well.

Pan.
Well, well? Why haue you any discretion?
haue you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not
birth, b auty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning,
gentlenesse, vertue, youth, liberality, and so forth:
the Spice, and salt that seasons a man?

Cres.
I, a minc'd man, and then to be bak'd with
no Date in the pye, for then the mans dates out.

Pan.
You are such another woman, one knowes
not at what ward you lye.

Cres.
Vpon my backe, to defend my belly; vpon my
wit, to defend my wiles; vppon my secrecy, to defend
mine honesty; my Maske, to defend my beauty, and you
to defend all these: and at all these wardes I lye at, at a
thousand watches.

Pan.
Say one of your watches.

Cres.
Nay Ile watch you for that, and that's one of
the cheefest of them too: If I cannot ward what I would
not haue hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the
blow, vnlesse it swell past hiding, and then it's past
watching.

Pan.
You are such another.
Enter Boy.

Boy.
Sir, my Lord would instantly speake with you.

Pan.
Where?

Boy.
At your owne house.

Pan.
Good Boy tell him I come,
I doubt he bee hurt. / Fare ye well good Neece.

Cres.
Adieu Vnkle.

Pan.
Ile be with you Neece by and by.

Cres.
To bring Vnkle.

Pan.
I, a token from Troylus.
Exit Pand.

Cres.
By the same token, you are a Bawd.
Words, vowes, gifts, teares, & loues full sacrifice,
He offers in anothers enterprise:
But more in Troylus thousand fold I see,
Then in the glasse of Pandar's praise may be;
Yet hold I off. Women are Angels wooing,
Things won are done, ioyes soule lyes in the dooing:
That she belou'd, knowes nought, that knowes not this;
Men prize the thing vngain'd, more then it is.
That she was neuer yet, that euer knew
Loue got so sweet, as when desire did sue:
Therefore this maxime out of loue I teach;
"Atchieuement, is command; vngain'd, beseech.
That though my hearts Contents firme loue doth beare,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appeare.
Exit.
Original text
Act I, Scene III
Senet. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Vlysses,
Diomedes, Menelaus, with others.

Agam.
Princes:
What greefe hath set the Iaundies on your cheekes?
The ample proposition that hope makes
In all designes, begun on earth below
Fayles in the promist largenesse: checkes and disasters
Grow in the veines of actions highest rear'd.
As knots by the conflux of meeting sap,
Infect the sound Pine, and diuerts his Graine
Tortiue and erant from his course of growth.
Nor Princes, is it matter new to vs,
That we come short of our suppose so farre,
That after seuen yeares siege, yet Troy walles stand,
Sith euery action that hath gone before,
Whereof we haue Record, Triall did draw
Bias and thwart, not answering the ayme:
And that vnbodied figure of the thought
That gaue't surmised shape. Why then (you Princes)
Do you with cheekes abash'd, behold our workes,
And thinke them shame, which are (indeed) nought else
But the protractiue trials of great Ioue,
To finde persistiue constancie in men?
The finenesse of which Mettall is not found
In Fortunes loue: for then, the Bold and Coward,
The Wise and Foole, the Artist and vn-read,
The hard and soft, seeme all affin'd, and kin.
But in the Winde and Tempest of her frowne,
Distinction with a lowd and powrefull fan,
Puffing at all, winnowes the light away;
And what hath masse, or matter by it selfe,
Lies rich in Vertue, and vnmingled.

Nestor.
With due Obseruance of thy godly seat,
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply
Thy latest words. / In the reproofe of Chance,
Lies the true proofe of men: The Sea being smooth,
How many shallow bauble Boates dare saile
Vpon her patient brest, making their way
With those of Nobler bulke?
But let the Ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and anon behold
The strong ribb'd Barke through liquid Mountaines cut,
Bounding betweene the two moyst Elements
Like Perseus Horse. Where's then the sawcy Boate,
Whose weake vntimber'd sides but euen now
Co-riual'd Greatnesse? Either to harbour fled,
Or made a Toste for Neptune. Euen so,
Doth valours shew, and valours worth diuide
In stormes of Fortune. / For, in her ray and brightnesse,
The Heard hath more annoyance by the Brieze
Then by the Tyger: But, when the splitting winde
Makes flexible the knees of knotted Oakes,
And Flies fled vnder shade, why then / The thing of Courage,
As rowz'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,
And with an accent tun'd in selfe-same key,
Retyres to chiding Fortune.

Vlys.
Agamemnon:
Thou great Commander, Nerue, and Bone of Greece,
Heart of our Numbers, soule, and onely spirit,
In whom the tempers, and the mindes of all
Should be shut vp: Heare what Vlysses speakes,
Besides the applause and approbation
The which most mighty for thy place and sway,
And thou most reuerend for thy stretcht-out life,
I giue to both your speeches: which were such,
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece
Should hold vp high in Brasse: and such againe
As venerable Nestor (hatch'd in Siluer)
Should with a bond of ayre, strong as the Axletree
In which the Heauens ride, knit all Greekes eares
To his experienc'd tongue: yet let it please both
(Thou Great, and Wise) to heare Vlysses speake.

Aga.
Speak Prince of Ithaca, and be't of lesse expect:
That matter needlesse of importlesse burthen
Diuide thy lips; then we are confident
When ranke Thersites opes his Masticke iawes,
We shall heare Musicke, Wit, and Oracle.

Ulys.
Troy yet vpon his basis had bene downe,
And the great Hectors sword had lack'd a Master
But for these instances.
The specialty of Rule hath beene neglected;
And looke how many Grecian Tents do stand
Hollow vpon this Plaine, so many hollow Factions.
When that the Generall is not like the Hiue,
To whom the Forragers shall all repaire,
What Hony is expected? Degree being vizarded,
Th'vnworthiest shewes as fairely in the Maske.
The Heauens themselues, the Planets, and this Center,
Obserue degree, priority, and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, forme,
Office, and custome, in all line of Order:
And therefore is the glorious Planet Sol
In noble eminence, enthron'd and sphear'd
Amid'st the other, whose med'cinable eye
Corrects the ill Aspects of Planets euill,
And postes like the Command'ment of a King,
Sans checke, to good and bad. But when the Planets
In euill mixture to disorder wander,
What Plagues, and what portents, what mutiny?
What raging of the Sea? shaking of Earth?
Commotion in the Windes? Frights, changes, horrors,
Diuert, and cracke, rend and deracinate
The vnity, and married calme of States
Quite from their fixure? O, when Degree is shak'd,
(Which is the Ladder to all high designes)
The enterprize is sicke. How could Communities,
Degrees in Schooles, and Brother-hoods in Cities,
Peacefull Commerce from diuidable shores,
The primogenitiue, and due of Byrth,
Prerogatiue of Age, Crownes, Scepters, Lawrels,
(But by Degree) stand in Authentique place?
Take but Degree away, vn-tune that string,
And hearke what Discord followes: each thing meetes
In meere oppugnancie. The bounded Waters,
Should lift their bosomes higher then the Shores,
And make a soppe of all this solid Globe:
Strength should be Lord of imbecility,
And the rude Sonne should strike his Father dead:
Force should be right, or rather, right and wrong,
(Betweene whose endlesse iarre, Iustice recides)
Should loose her names, and so should Iustice too.
Then euery thing includes it selfe in Power,
Power into Will, Will into Appetite,
And Appetite (an vniuersall Wolfe,
So doubly seconded with Will, and Power)
Must make perforce an vniuersall prey,
And last, eate vp himselfe. / Great Agamemnon:
This Chaos, when Degree is suffocate,
Followes the choaking:
And this neglection of Degree, is it
That by a pace goes backward in a purpose
It hath to climbe. The Generall's disdain'd
By him one step below; he, by the next,
That next, by him beneath: so euery step
Exampled by the first pace that is sicke
Of his Superiour, growes to an enuious Feauer
Of pale, and bloodlesse Emulation.
And 'tis this Feauer that keepes Troy on foote,
Not her owne sinewes. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weaknesse liues, not in her strength.

Nest.
Most wisely hath Vlysses heere discouer'd
The Feauer, whereof all our power is sicke.

Aga.
The Nature of the sicknesse found (Ulysses)
What is the remedie?

Vlys.
The great Achilles, whom Opinion crownes,
The sinew, and the fore-hand of our Hoste,
Hauing his eare full of his ayery Fame,
Growes dainty of his worth, and in his Tent
Lyes mocking our designes. With him, Patroclus,
Vpon a lazie Bed, the liue-long day
Breakes scurrill Iests,
And with ridiculous and aukward action,
(Which Slanderer, he imitation call's)
He Pageants vs. Sometime great Agamemnon,
Thy toplesse deputation he puts on;
And like a strutting Player, whose conceit
Lies in his Ham-string, and doth thinke it rich
To heare the woodden Dialogue and sound
'Twixt his stretcht footing, and the Scaffolage,
Such to be pittied, and ore-rested seeming
He acts thy Greatnesse in: and when he speakes,
'Tis like a Chime a mending. With tearmes vnsquar'd,
Which from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropt,
Would seemes Hyperboles. At this fusty stuffe,
The large Achilles (on his prest-bed lolling)
From his deepe Chest, laughes out a lowd applause,
Cries excellent, 'tis Agamemnon iust.
Now play me Nestor; hum, and stroke thy Beard
As he, being drest to some Oration:
That's done, as neere as the extreamest ends
Of paralels; as like, as Vulcan and his wife,
Yet god Achilles still cries excellent,
'Tis Nestor right. Now play him (me) Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night-Alarme,
And then (forsooth) the faint defects of Age
Must be the Scene of myrth, to cough, and spit,
And with a palsie fumbling on his Gorget,
Shake in and out the Riuet: and at this sport
Sir Valour dies; cries, O enough Patroclus,
Or, giue me ribs of Steele, I shall split all
In pleasure of my Spleene. And in this fashion,
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,
Seuerals and generals of grace exact,
Atchieuments, plots, orders, preuentions,
Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,
Successe or losse, what is, or is not, serues
As stuffe for these two, to make paradoxes.

Nest.
And in the imitation of these twaine,
Who (as Vlysses sayes) Opinion crownes
With an Imperiall voyce, many are infect:
Aiax is growne selfe-will'd, and beares his head
In such a reyne, in full as proud a place
As broad Achilles, and keepes his Tent like him;
Makes factious Feasts, railes on our state of Warre
Bold as an Oracle, and sets Thersites
A slaue, whose Gall coines slanders like a Mint,
To match vs in comparisons with durt,
To weaken and discredit our exposure,
How ranke soeuer rounded in with danger.

Vlys.
They taxe our policy, and call it Cowardice,
Count Wisedome as no member of the Warre,
Fore-stall prescience, and esteeme no acte
But that of hand: The still and mentall parts,
That do contriue how many hands shall strike
When fitnesse call them on, and know by measure
Of their obseruant toyle, the Enemies waight,
Why this hath not a fingers dignity:
They call this Bed-worke, Mapp'ry, Closset-Warre:
So that the Ramme that batters downe the wall,
For the great swing and rudenesse of his poize,
They place before his hand that made the Engine,
Or those that with the finenesse of their soules,
By Reason guide his execution.

Nest.
Let this be granted, and Achilles horse
Makes many Thetis sonnes.
Tucket

Aga.
What Trumpet? Looke Menelaus.

Men.
From Troy.
Enter Aneas.

Aga.
What would you 'fore our Tent?

Ane.
Is this great Agamemnons Tent, I pray you?

Aga.
Euen this.

Ane.
May one that is a Herald, and a Prince,
Do a faire message to his Kingly eares?

Aga.
With surety stronger then Achilles arme,
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voyce
Call Agamemnon Head and Generall.

Ane.
Faire leaue, and large security. How may
A stranger to those most Imperial lookes,
Know them from eyes of other Mortals?

Aga.
How?

Ane.
I:
I aske, that I might waken reuerence,
And on the cheeke be ready with a blush
Modest as morning, when she coldly eyes
The youthfull Phobus:
Which is that God in office guiding men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?

Aga.
This Troyan scornes vs, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious Courtiers.

Ane.
Courtiers as free, as debonnaire; vnarm'd,
As bending Angels: that's their Fame, in peace:
But when they would seeme Souldiers, they haue galles,
Good armes, strong ioynts, true swords, & Ioues accord,
Nothing so full of heart. But peace Aneas,
Peace Troyan, lay thy finger on thy lips,
The worthinesse of praise distaines his worth:
If that he prais'd himselfe, bring the praise forth.
But what the repining enemy commends,
That breath Fame blowes, that praise sole pure transcẽds.

Aga.
Sir, you of Troy, call you your selfe Aneas?

Ane.
I Greeke, that is my name.

Aga.
What's your affayre I pray you?

Ane.
Sir pardon, 'tis for Agamemnons eares.

Aga.
He heares nought priuatly / That comes from Troy.

Ane.
Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him,
I bring a Trumpet to awake his eare,
To set his sence on the attentiue bent,
And then to speake.

Aga.
Speake frankely as the winde,
It is not Agamemnons sleeping houre;
That thou shalt know Troyan he is awake,
He tels thee so himselfe.

Ane.
Trumpet blow loud,
Send thy Brasse voyce through all these lazie Tents,
And euery Greeke of mettle, let him know,
What Troy meanes fairely, shall be spoke alowd.
The Trumpets sound.
We haue great Agamemnon heere in Troy,
A Prince calld Hector, Priam is his Father:
Who in this dull and long-continew'd Truce
Is rusty growne. He bad me take a Trumpet,
And to this purpose speake: Kings, Princes, Lords,
If there be one among'st the fayr'st of Greece,
That holds his Honor higher then his ease,
That seekes his praise, more then he feares his perill,
That knowes his Valour, and knowes not his feare,
That loues his Mistris more then in consession,
(With truant vowes to her owne lips he loues)
And dare avow her Beauty, and her Worth,
In other armes then hers: to him this Challenge.
Hector, in view of Troyans, and of Greekes,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it.
He hath a Lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
Then euer Greeke did compasse in his armes,
And will to morrow with his Trumpet call,
Midway betweene your Tents, and walles of Troy,
To rowze a Grecian that is true in loue.
If any come, Hector shal honour him:
If none, hee'l say in Troy when he retyres,
The Grecian Dames are sun-burnt, and not worth
The splinter of a Lance: Euen so much.

Aga.
This shall be told our Louers Lord Aneas,
If none of them haue soule in such a kinde,
We left them all at home: But we are Souldiers,
And may that Souldier a meere recreant proue,
That meanes not, hath not, or is not in loue:
If then one is, or hath, or meanes to be,
That one meets Hector; if none else, Ile be he.

Nest.
Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man
When Hectors Grandsire suckt: he is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian mould,
One Noble man, that hath one spark of fire
To answer for his Loue; tell him from me,
Ile hide my Siluer beard in a Gold Beauer,
And in my Vantbrace put this wither'd brawne,
And meeting him, wil tell him, that my Lady
Was fayrer then his Grandame, and as chaste
As may be in the world: his youth in flood,
Ile pawne this truth with my three drops of blood.

Ane.
Now heauens forbid such scarsitie of youth.

Vlys.
Amen.

Aga.
Faire Lord Aneas, / Let me touch your hand:
To our Pauillion shal I leade you first:
Achilles shall haue word of this intent,
So shall each Lord of Greece from Tent to Tent:
Your selfe shall Feast with vs before you goe,
And finde the welcome of a Noble Foe.
Exeunt. Manet Vlysses, and Nestor.

Vlys.
Nestor.

Nest.
What sayes Vlysses?

Vlys.
I haue a young conception in my braine,
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

Nest.
What is't?

Ulysses.
This 'tis:
Blunt wedges riue hard knots: the seeded Pride
That hath to this maturity blowne vp
In ranke Achilles, must or now be cropt,
Or shedding breed a Nursery of like euil
To ouer-bulke vs all.

Nest.
Wel, and how?

Ulys.
This challenge that the gallant Hector sends,
How euer it is spred in general name,
Relates in purpose onely to Achilles.

Nest.
The purpose is perspicuous euen as substance,
Whose grossenesse little charracters summe vp,
And in the publication make no straine,
But that Achilles, were his braine as barren
As bankes of Lybia, though (Apollo knowes)
'Tis dry enough, wil with great speede of iudgement,
I, with celerity, finde Hectors purpose
Pointing on him.

Ulys.
And wake him to the answer, thinke you?

Nest.
Yes,
'tis most meet; who may you else oppose
That can from Hector bring his Honor off,
If not Achilles; though't be a sportfull Combate,
Yet in this triall, much opinion dwels.
For heere the Troyans taste our deer'st repute
With their fin'st Pallate: and trust to me Vlysses,
Our imputation shall be oddely poiz'd
In this wilde action. For the successe
(Although particular) shall giue a scantling
Of good or bad, vnto the Generall:
And in such Indexes, although small prickes
To their subsequent Volumes, there is seene
The baby figure of the Gyant-masse
Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd,
He that meets Hector, issues from our choyse;
And choise being mutuall acte of all our soules,
Makes Merit her election, and doth boyle
As 'twere, from forth vs all: a man distill'd
Out of our Vertues; who miscarrying,
What heart from hence receyues the conqu'ring part
To steele a strong opinion to themselues,
Which entertain'd, Limbes are in his instruments,
In no lesse working, then are Swords and Bowes
Directiue by the Limbes.

Vlys.
Giue pardon to my speech:
Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector:
Let vs (like Merchants) shew our fowlest Wares,
And thinke perchance they'l sell: If not,
The luster of the better yet to shew,
Shall shew the better. Do not consent,
That euer Hector and Achilles meete:
For both our Honour, and our Shame in this,
Are dogg'd with two strange Followers.

Nest.
I see them not with my old eies: what are they?

Vlys.
What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,
(Were he not proud) we all should weare with him:
But he already is too insolent,
And we were better parch in Affricke Sunne,
Then in the pride and salt scorne of his eyes
Should he scape Hector faire. If he were foyld,
Why then we did our maine opinion crush
In taint of our best man. No, make a Lott'ry,
And by deuice let blockish Aiax draw
The sort to fight with Hector: Among our selues,
Giue him allowance as the worthier man,
For that will physicke the great Myrmidon
Who broyles in lowd applause, and make him fall
His Crest, that prouder then blew Iris bends.
If the dull brainlesse Aiax come safe off,
Wee'l dresse him vp in voyces: if he faile,
Yet go we vnder our opinion still,
That we haue better men. But hit or misse,
Our proiects life this shape of sence assumes,
Aiax imploy'd, pluckes downe Achilles Plumes.

Nest.
Now Vlysses, I begin to rellish thy aduice,
And I wil giue a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon, go we to him straight:
Two Curres shal tame each other, Pride alone
Must tarre the Mastiffes on, as 'twere their bone.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act I, Scene I
Enter Pandarus and Troilus

TROILUS
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,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas, hath none.

PANDARUS
Will this gear ne'er be mended?

TROILUS
The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpractised infancy.

PANDARUS
Well, I have told you enough of this; for my
part, I'll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will
have a cake out of the wheat must needs tarry the
grinding.

TROILUS
Have I not tarried?

PANDARUS
Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the
bolting.

TROILUS
Have I not tarried?

PANDARUS
Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the
leavening.

TROILUS
Still have I tarried.

PANDARUS
Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the
word hereafter the kneading, the making of the cake,
the heating of the oven, and the baking. Nay, you must
stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your
lips.

TROILUS
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?

PANDARUS
Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever
I saw her look, or any woman else.

TROILUS
I was about to tell thee – when my heart,
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have, as when the sun doth light a storm,
Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile;
But sorrow that is couched in seeming gladness
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.

PANDARUS
An her hair were not somewhat darker than
Helen's – well, go to, there were no more comparison
between the women. But, for my part, she is my kinswoman;
I would not, as they term it, praise her, but I
would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did;
I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but –

TROILUS
O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus –
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drowned,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrenched. I tell thee I am mad
In Cressid's love: thou answer'st ‘ She is fair,’
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;
Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink
Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'st me,
As ‘ true ’ thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it.

PANDARUS
I speak no more than truth.

TROILUS
Thou dost not speak so much.

PANDARUS
Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she
is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not,
she has the mends in her own hands.

TROILUS
Good Pandarus – how now, Pandarus?

PANDARUS
I have had my labour for my travail,
ill-thought-on of her, and ill-thought-on of you; gone
between and between, but small thanks for my labour.

TROILUS
What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with
me?

PANDARUS
Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not
so fair as Helen; an she were not kin to me, she would
be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday, but what
care I? I care not an she were a blackamoor; 'tis all one
to me.

TROILUS
Say I she is not fair?

PANDARUS
I do not care whether you do or no. She's a
fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks,
and so I'll tell her the next time I see her. For my part,
I'll meddle nor make no more i'th' matter.

TROILUS
Pandarus –

PANDARUS
Not I.

TROILUS
Sweet Pandarus –

PANDARUS
Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave
all as I found it, and there an end.
Exit. Sound alarum

TROILUS
Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds!
Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument;
It is too starved a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus – O gods, how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar,
And he's as tetchy to be wooed to woo.
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we –
Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl:
Between our Ilium and where she resides,
Let it be called the wild and wandering flood,
Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
Alarum. Enter Aeneas

AENEAS
How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore not a-field?

TROILUS
Because not there. This woman's answer sorts,
For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Aeneas, from the field today?

AENEAS
That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

TROILUS
By whom, Aeneas?

AENEAS
Troilus, by Menelaus.

TROILUS
Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn.
Alarum

AENEAS
Hark what good sport is out of town today!

TROILUS
Better at home, if ‘ would I might ’ were ‘ may ’ –
But to the sport abroad, are you bound thither?

AENEAS
In all swift haste.

TROILUS
Come, go we then together.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act I, Scene II
Enter Cressida and her man Alexander

CRESSIDA
Who were those went by?

ALEXANDER
Queen Hecuba and Helen.

CRESSIDA
And whither go they?

ALEXANDER
Up to the eastern tower,
Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
Is as a virtue fixed, today was moved:
He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the sun rose he was harnessed light,
And to the field goes he; where every flower
Did as a prophet weep what it foresaw
In Hector's wrath.

CRESSIDA
What was his cause of anger?

ALEXANDER
The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;
They call him Ajax.

CRESSIDA
Good, and what of him?

ALEXANDER
They say he is a very man per se,
And stands alone.

CRESSIDA
So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or
have no legs.

ALEXANDER
This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts
of their particular additions: he is as valiant as the lion,
churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant; a man into
whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour
is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion.
There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a
glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some
stain of it. He is melancholy without cause, and merry
against the hair; he hath the joints of everything, but
everything so out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus,
many hands and no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes
and no sight.

CRESSIDA
But how should this man, that makes me
smile, make Hector angry?

ALEXANDER
They say he yesterday coped Hector in the
battle and struck him down, the disdain and shame
whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and
waking.

CRESSIDA
Who comes here?

ALEXANDER
Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Enter Pandarus

CRESSIDA
Hector's a gallant man.

ALEXANDER
As may be in the world, lady.

PANDARUS
What's that? What's that?

CRESSIDA
Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

PANDARUS
Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you
talk of? – Good morrow, Alexander. – How do you,
cousin? When were you at Ilium?

CRESSIDA
This morning, uncle.

PANDARUS
What were you talking of when I came? Was
Hector armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium? Helen
was not up, was she?

CRESSIDA
Hector was gone, but Helen was not up.

PANDARUS
E'en so, Hector was stirring early.

CRESSIDA
That were we talking of, and of his anger.

PANDARUS
Was he angry?

CRESSIDA
So he says here.
Exit Alexander

PANDARUS
True, he was so. I know the cause too. He'll
lay about him today, I can tell them that, and there's
Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take
heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too.

CRESSIDA
What is he angry too?

PANDARUS
Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of
the two.

CRESSIDA
O Jupiter, there's no comparison.

PANDARUS
What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do
you know a man if you see him?

CRESSIDA
Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him.

PANDARUS
Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.

CRESSIDA
Then you say as I say, for I am sure he is not
Hector.

PANDARUS
No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some
degrees.

CRESSIDA
'Tis just to each of them; he is himself.

PANDARUS
Himself! Alas, poor Troilus, I would he
were.

CRESSIDA
So he is.

PANDARUS
Condition, I had gone barefoot to India.

CRESSIDA
He is not Hector.

PANDARUS
Himself? No, he's not himself, would 'a
were himself! Well, the gods are above; time must
friend or end. Well, Troilus, well, I would my heart
were in her body. No, Hector is not a better man than
Troilus.

CRESSIDA
Excuse me.

PANDARUS
He is elder.

CRESSIDA
Pardon me, pardon me.

PANDARUS
Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me
another tale when th' other's come to't. Hector shall
not have his wit this year.

CRESSIDA
He shall not need it, if he have his own.

PANDARUS
Nor his qualities.

CRESSIDA
No matter.

PANDARUS
Nor his beauty.

CRESSIDA
'Twould not become him; his own's better.

PANDARUS
You have no judgement, niece. Helen herself
swore th' other day that Troilus, for a brown favour
– for so 'tis, I must confess – not brown neither –

CRESSIDA
No, but brown.

PANDARUS
Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.

CRESSIDA
To say the truth, true and not true.

PANDARUS
She praised his complexion above Paris.

CRESSIDA
Why, Paris hath colour enough.

PANDARUS
So he has.

CRESSIDA
Then Troilus should have too much. If she
praised him above, his complexion is higher than his;
he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too
flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief
Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a
copper nose.

PANDARUS
I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better
than Paris.

CRESSIDA
Then she's a merry Greek indeed.

PANDARUS
Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him
th' other day into the compassed window – and you
know he has not past three or four hairs on his chin –

CRESSIDA
Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring
his particulars therein to a total.

PANDARUS
Why, he is very young, and yet will he within
three pound lift as much as his brother Hector.

CRESSIDA
Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter?

PANDARUS
But to prove to you that Helen loves him, she
came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin –

CRESSIDA
Juno have mercy, how came it cloven?

PANDARUS
Why, you know 'tis dimpled – I think his
smiling becomes him better than any man in all
Phrygia.

CRESSIDA
O, he smiles valiantly.

PANDARUS
Does he not?

CRESSIDA
O, yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.

PANDARUS
Why, go to, then: but to prove to you that
Helen loves Troilus –

CRESSIDA
Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove
it so.

PANDARUS
Troilus? Why, he esteems her no more than
I esteem an addle egg.

CRESSIDA
If you love an addle egg as well as you love an
idle head you would eat chickens i'th' shell.

PANDARUS
I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she
tickled his chin – indeed, she has a marvellous white
hand, I must needs confess –

CRESSIDA
Without the rack.

PANDARUS
And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on
his chin.

CRESSIDA
Alas, poor chin, many a wart is richer.

PANDARUS
But there was such laughing – Queen Hecuba
laughed that her eyes ran o'er –

CRESSIDA
With millstones.

PANDARUS
And Cassandra laughed –

CRESSIDA
But there was more temperate fire under the
pot of her eyes; did her eyes run o'er too?

PANDARUS
And Hector laughed.

CRESSIDA
At what was all this laughing?

PANDARUS
Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on
Troilus' chin.

CRESSIDA
An't had been a green hair I should have
laughed too.

PANDARUS
They laughed not so much at the hair as at
his pretty answer.

CRESSIDA
What was his answer?

PANDARUS
Quoth she: ‘ Here's but two and fifty hairs on
your chin, and one of them is white.’

CRESSIDA
This is her question.

PANDARUS
That's true, make no question of that. ‘ Two
and fifty hairs,’ quoth he, ‘ and one white: that white
hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons.’ ‘ Jupiter,’
quoth she, ‘ which of these hairs is Paris, my husband?’
‘ The forked one,’ quoth he; ‘ pluck't out, and give it
him.’ But there was such laughing, and Helen so
blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the rest so
laughed, that it passed.

CRESSIDA
So let it now; for it has been a great while
going by.

PANDARUS
Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday;
think on't.

CRESSIDA
So I do.

PANDARUS
I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you an
'twere a man born in April.

CRESSIDA
And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a
nettle against May.
Sound a retreat

PANDARUS
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.

CRESSIDA
At your pleasure.

PANDARUS
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.

CRESSIDA
Speak not so loud.
Aeneas passes across the stage

PANDARUS
That's Aeneas; 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.
Antenor passes across the stage

CRESSIDA
Who's that?

PANDARUS
That's Antenor. He has a shrewd wit, I can
tell you, and he's a man good enough; he's one
o'th' soundest judgements in Troy whosoever, and a
proper man of person. When comes Troilus? I'll show
you Troilus anon; if he see me, you shall see him nod at
me.

CRESSIDA
Will he give you the nod?

PANDARUS
You shall see.

CRESSIDA
If he do, the rich shall have more.
Hector passes across the stage

PANDARUS
That's Hector, that, that, look you, that;
there's a fellow! – Go thy way, Hector! – There's a
brave man, niece. – O brave Hector! Look how he
looks! There's a countenance! Is't not a brave man?

CRESSIDA
O, a brave man!

PANDARUS
Is a' not? It does a man's heart good. Look
you what hacks are on his helmet, look you yonder, do
you see? Look you there, there's no jesting; there's
laying on, take't off who will, as they say; there be
hacks!

CRESSIDA
Be those with swords?

PANDARUS
Swords, anything, he cares not; an the devil
come to him, it's all one. By God's lid, it does one's
heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris!
Paris passes across the stage
Look ye yonder, niece, is't not a gallant man too, is't
not? Why, this is brave now. Who said he came hurt
home today? He's not hurt. Why, this will do Helen's
heart good now, ha? Would I could see Troilus now.
You shall see Troilus anon.
Helenus passes across the stage

CRESSIDA
Who's that?

PANDARUS
That's Helenus – I marvel where Troilus is
– that's Helenus – I think he went not forth today –
that's Helenus.

CRESSIDA
Can Helenus fight, uncle?

PANDARUS
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.

CRESSIDA
What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
Troilus passes across the stage

PANDARUS
Where? Yonder? That's Deiphobus. – 'Tis
Troilus! There's a man, niece, hem! – Brave Troilus,
the prince of chivalry!

CRESSIDA
Peace, for shame, peace!

PANDARUS
Mark him, note him. O brave Troilus! Look
well upon him, niece, look you how his sword is
bloodied, and his helm 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.
Common soldiers pass across the stage

CRESSIDA
Here come more.

PANDARUS
Asses, fools, dolts; chaff and bran, chaff and
bran; porridge after meat! I could live and die i'the
eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look, the eagles are
gone; crows and daws, crows and daws! – I had rather
be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all
Greece.

CRESSIDA
There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better
man than Troilus.

PANDARUS
Achilles? A drayman, a porter, a very camel!

CRESSIDA
Well, well.

PANDARUS
Well, well! Why, have you any discretion?
Have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not
birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning,
gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and so forth
the spice and salt that season a man?

CRESSIDA
Ay, a minced man; and then to be baked with
no date in the pie, for then the man's date is out.

PANDARUS
You are such another woman! One knows
not at what ward you lie.

CRESSIDA
Upon my back to defend my belly; upon my
wit to defend my wiles; upon my secrecy to defend
mine honesty; my mask to defend my beauty, and you
to defend all these: and at all these wards I lie, at a
thousand watches.

PANDARUS
Say one of your watches.

CRESSIDA
Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of
the chiefest of them too. If I cannot ward what I would
not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the
blow – unless it swell past hiding, and then it's past
watching.

PANDARUS
You are such another!
Enter Troilus's Boy

BOY
Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.

PANDARUS
Where?

BOY
At your own house; there he unarms him.

PANDARUS
Good boy, tell him I come.
Exit Boy
I doubt he be hurt. Fare you well, good niece.

CRESSIDA
Adieu, uncle.

PANDARUS
I'll be with you, niece, by and by.

CRESSIDA
To bring, uncle?

PANDARUS
Ay, a token from Troilus.
Exit

CRESSIDA
By the same token you are a bawd.
Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice
He offers in another's enterprise;
But more in Troilus thousandfold I see
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be.
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing;
Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing.
That she beloved knows naught that knows not this:
Men prize the thing ungained 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:
‘ Achievement is command; ungained, beseech.’
Then, though my heart's content firm love doth bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.
Exit
Modern text
Act I, Scene III
Sennet. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulysses,
Diomedes, Menelaus, with other Greek leaders

AGAMEMNON
Princes,
What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks?
The ample proposition that hope makes
In all designs begun on earth below
Fails in the promised largeness: checks and disasters
Grow in the veins of actions highest reared,
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us
That we come short of our suppose so far
That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls stand;
Sith every action that hath gone before
Whereof we have record, trial did draw
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim
And that unbodied figure of the thought
That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes,
Do you with cheeks abashed behold our works,
And call them shame, which are, indeed, naught else
But the protractive trials of great Jove
To find persistive constancy in men? –
The fineness of which metal is not found
In fortune's love: for then the bold and coward,
The wise and fool, the artist and unread,
The hard and soft, seem all affined 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,
And what hath mass or matter by itself
Lies rich in virtue and unmingled.

NESTOR
With due observance of thy godlike seat,
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply
Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance
Lies the true proof of men. The sea being smooth,
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
Upon her patient breast, making their way
With those of nobler bulk;
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and anon behold
The strong-ribbed bark through liquid mountains cut,
Bounding between the two moist elements,
Like Perseus' horse. Where's then the saucy boat,
Whose weak untimbered sides but even now
Co-rivalled greatness? – Either to harbour fled
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so
Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide
In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness
The herd hath more annoyance by the breese
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 roused with rage, with rage doth sympathize,
And with an accent tuned in selfsame key
Returns to chiding fortune.

ULYSSES
Agamemnon,
Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,
Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit,
In whom the tempers and the minds of all
Should be shut up: hear what Ulysses speaks.
Besides the applause and approbation
The which, most mighty for thy place and sway –
(To Nestor) And thou most reverend for thy stretched-out life –
I give to both your speeches, which were such
As, Agamemnon, every hand of Greece
Should hold up high in brass; and such again
As venerable Nestor, hatched in silver,
Should with a bond of air, strong as the axletree
On which the heavens ride, knit all Greeks' ears
To his experienced tongue – yet let it please both,
Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak.

AGAMEMNON
Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect
That matter needless, of importless burden,
Divide thy lips than we are confident
When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws
We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.

ULYSSES
Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down,
And the great Hector's sword had lacked a master,
But for these instances:
The specialty of rule hath been neglected,
And look how many Grecian tents do stand
Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions.
When that the general is not like the hive
To whom the foragers shall all repair,
What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded,
Th' unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask.
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre
Observe degree, priority, and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
Office, and custom, in all line of order.
And therefore is the glorious planet Sol
In noble eminence enthroned and sphered
Amidst the other; whose med'cinable eye
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,
And posts like the commandment of a king,
Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets
In evil mixture to disorder wander,
What plagues and what portents, what mutiny,
What raging of the sea, shaking of earth,
Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors,
Divert and crack, rend and deracinate
The unity and married calm of states
Quite from their fixure! O, when degree is shaked,
Which is the ladder to all high designs,
Then enterprise is sick. How could communities,
Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,
Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,
The primogenitive and due of birth,
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,
But by degree, stand in authentic place?
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And hark what discord follows! Each thing meets
In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters
Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores,
And make a sop of all this solid globe;
Strength should be lord of imbecility,
And the rude son should strike his father dead;
Force should be right, or, rather, right and wrong –
Between whose endless jar justice resides –
Should lose their names, and so should justice too.
Then everything includes itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite;
And appetite, an universal wolf,
So doubly seconded with will and power,
Must make perforce an universal prey,
And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,
This chaos, when degree is suffocate,
Follows the choking;
And this neglection of degree it is
That by a pace goes backward in a purpose
It hath to climb. The general's disdained
By him one step below, he by the next,
That next by him beneath: so every step,
Exampled by the first pace that is sick
Of his superior, grows to an envious fever
Of pale and bloodless emulation,
And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weakness lives, not in her strength.

NESTOR
Most wisely hath Ulysses here discovered
The fever whereof all our power is sick.

AGAMEMNON
The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses,
What is the remedy?

ULYSSES
The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns
The sinew and the forehand of our host,
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
Lies mocking our designs. With him Patroclus,
Upon a lazy bed, the livelong day
Breaks scurril jests,
And with ridiculous and awkward action –
Which, slanderer, he imitation calls –
He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,
Thy topless deputation he puts on,
And, like a strutting player whose conceit
Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and sound
'Twixt his stretched footing and the scaffoldage,
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming
He acts thy greatness in; and when he speaks,
'Tis like a chime a-mending, with terms unsquared
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropped,
Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff
The large Achilles, on his pressed bed lolling,
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause,
Cries ‘ Excellent! 'Tis Agamemnon just.
Now play me Nestor; hum, and stroke thy beard,
As he being dressed to some oration.’
That's done, as near as the extremest ends
Of parallels, as like as Vulcan and his wife;
Yet god Achilles still cries ‘ Excellent!
'Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night-alarm.’
And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age
Must be the scene of mirth; to cough and spit,
And with a palsy fumbling on his gorget
Shake in and out the rivet – and at this sport
Sir Valour dies; cries ‘ O, enough, Patroclus,
Or give me ribs of steel; I shall split all
In pleasure of my spleen.’ And in this fashion,
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,
Severals and generals of grace exact,
Achievements, plots, 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.

NESTOR
And in the imitation of these twain,
Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice, many are infect.
Ajax is grown self-willed, and bears his head
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 –
A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint –
To match us in comparisons with dirt,
To weaken and discredit our exposure,
How rank soever rounded in with danger.

ULYSSES
They tax our policy, and call it cowardice,
Count wisdom as no member of the war;
Forestall prescience, and esteem no act
But that of hand; the still and mental parts,
That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
When fitness calls them on, and know by measure
Of their observant toil the enemies' weight –
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war;
So that the ram that batters down the wall,
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise,
They place before his hand that made the engine,
Or those that with the fineness of their souls
By reason guide his execution.

NESTOR
Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
Makes many Thetis' sons.
Tucket

AGAMEMNON
What trumpet? Look, Menelaus.

MENELAUS
From Troy.
Enter Aeneas

AGAMEMNON
What would you 'fore our tent?

AENEAS
Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you?

AGAMEMNON
Even this.

AENEAS
May one that is a herald and a prince
Do a fair message to his kingly ears?

AGAMEMNON
With surety stronger than Achilles' arm
'Fore all the Greekish lords, which with one voice
Call Agamemnon head and general.

AENEAS
Fair leave and large security. How may
A stranger to those most imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals?

AGAMEMNON
How?

AENEAS
Ay;
I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phoebus.
Which is that god in office, guiding men?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?

AGAMEMNON
This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.

AENEAS
Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarmed,
As bending angels, that's their fame in peace;
But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,
Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and – Jove's accord –
Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Aeneas,
Peace, Trojan, lay thy finger on thy lips.
The worthiness of praise distains his worth
If that he praised himself bring the praise forth;
But what the repining enemy commends,
That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends.

AGAMEMNON
Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas?

AENEAS
Ay, Greek, that is my name.

AGAMEMNON
What's your affair, I pray you?

AENEAS
Sir, pardon, 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.

AGAMEMNON
He hears naught privately that comes from Troy.

AENEAS
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,
And then to speak.

AGAMEMNON
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.

AENEAS
Trumpet, blow loud;
Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;
And every Greek of mettle, let him know
What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud.
The trumpets sound
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A prince called Hector – Priam is his father –
Who in this dull and long-continued truce
Is rusty grown. He bade me take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak: ‘ Kings, princes, lords,
If there be one amongst the fair'st of Greece
That holds his honour higher than his ease,
That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril,
That knows his valour, and knows not his fear,
That loves his mistress more than in confession
With truant vows to her own lips he loves,
And dare avow her beauty and her worth
In other arms than hers; to him this challenge:
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it,
He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer,
Than ever Greek did compass in his arms;
And will tomorrow with his trumpet call
Midway between your tents and walls of Troy,
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love.
If any come, Hector shall honour him;
If none, he'll say in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian dames are sunburnt, and not worth
The splinter of a lance.’ Even so much.

AGAMEMNON
This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas.
If none of them have soul in such a kind,
We left them all at home, but we are soldiers,
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove
That means not, hath not, or is not in love.
If then one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hector; if none else, I'll be he.

NESTOR
Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man
When Hector's grandsire sucked: he is old now;
But if there be not in our Grecian mould
One noble man that hath one spark of fire
To answer for his love, tell him from me,
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver,
And in my vantbrace put this withered brawn;
And, meeting him, will tell him that my lady
Was fairer than his grandam, and as chaste
As may be in the world – his youth in flood,
I'll pawn this truth with my three drops of blood.

AENEAS
Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth!

ULYSSES
Amen.

AGAMEMNON
Fair Lord Aeneas, let me touch your hand;
To our pavilion shall I lead you first.
Achilles shall have word of this intent;
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent.
Yourself shall feast with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a noble foe.
Exeunt all but Ulysses and Nestor

ULYSSES
Nestor –

NESTOR
What says Ulysses?

ULYSSES
I have a young conception in my brain;
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

NESTOR
What is't?

ULYSSES
This 'tis:
Blunt wedges rive hard knots; the seeded pride
That hath to this maturity blown up
In rank Achilles must or now be cropped
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil
To overbulk us all.

NESTOR
Well, and how?

ULYSSES
This challenge that the gallant Hector sends,
However it is spread in general name,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

NESTOR
True. The purpose is perspicuous even as substance
Whose grossness little characters sum up;
And in the publication make no strain
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren
As banks of Libya – though, Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough – will, with great speed of judgement,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.

ULYSSES
And wake him to the answer, think you?

NESTOR
Yes,
It is most meet. Who may you else oppose,
That can from Hector bring his honour off,
If not Achilles? Though't be a sportful combat,
Yet in this trial much opinion dwells;
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
With their fin'st palate; and trust to me, Ulysses,
Our imputation shall be oddly poised
In this willed action; for the success,
Although particular, shall give a scantling
Of good or bad unto the general,
And in such indexes, although small pricks
To their subsequent volumes, there is seen
The baby figure of the giant mass
Of things to come at large. It is supposed
He that meets Hector issues from our choice;
And choice, being mutual act of all our souls,
Makes merit her election, and doth boil,
As 'twere from forth us all, a man distilled
Out of our virtues; who miscarrying,
What heart from hence receives the conquering part,
To steel a strong opinion to themselves? –
Which entertained, limbs are his instruments,
In no less working than are swords and bows
Directive by the limbs.

ULYSSES
Give pardon to my speech:
Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares,
And think perchance they'll sell; if not,
The lustre of the better 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
Are dogged with two strange followers.

NESTOR
I see them not with my old eyes: what are they?

ULYSSES
What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,
Were he not proud, we all should wear with him.
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 foiled,
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;
For that will physic the great Myrmidon,
Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall
His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends.
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We'll dress him up in voices; if he fail,
Yet go we under our opinion still
That we have better men. But, hit or miss,
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes:
Ajax employed plucks down Achilles' plumes.

NESTOR
Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice,
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon. Go we to him straight.
Two curs shall tame each other; pride alone
Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.
Exeunt
SHAKESPEARE'S WORDS © 2018 DAVID CRYSTAL & BEN CRYSTAL