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Achil. How can that be?

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride and a stand; ruminates like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say 'There were wit in this head, an 'twould out'; and so there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat, he'll break 't himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I said 'Good morrow, Ajax'; and he replies Thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of this man that takes me for the general? He's grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.



Ther. Who, I? why, he 'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in 's arms. I will put on his presence: let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus: tell him I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure safe-conduct for his person of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seventimes-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, et cætera. Do this.

Patr. Jove bless great Ajax!


Ther. Agamemnon!

Patr. Ay, my lord.

Ther. Ha!

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Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm, and, so long, health!
But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
With his face backward. In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love in such a sort
The thing he means to kill more excellently.

Ther. Hum!

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles,-
Ther. Ha!

Patr. Who most humbly desires you to invite
Hector to his tent,--

Dio. We sympathize. Jove, let Æneas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courses of the sun!

Ther. Hum!


Patr. And to procure safe-conduct from Aga- But, in mine emulous honour, let him die,

With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow!
Ene. We know each other well.


Dio. We do; and long to know each other

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? Ther. No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not; but, I am sure, none, unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. 311

Ther. Let me bear another to his horse, for that's the more capable creature.

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;

And I myself see not the bottom of it.



Ther. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance.


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Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen most,
Myself or Menelaus?



Both alike:

He merits well to have her that doth seek her,
Not making any scruple of her soilure,
With such a hell of pain and world of charge,
And you as well to keep her that defend her,
Not palating the taste of her dishonour,
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends:
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor capocchia! hast not slept to-night? would he
not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take
Knocking within.
Cres. Did not I tell you? Would he were
knock'd o' the head!


Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch a poor


But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your country woman.
Dio. She's bitter to her country. Hear me,
Paris :

For 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

She hath not given so many good words breath
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.

Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy ;
But we in silence hold this virtue well,
We'll but commend what we intend to sell.
Here lies our way.


SCENE II.-The Same. Court of PANDARUS'S


Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn is cold.

Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I 'll call mine uncle down;

He shall unbolt the gates.


Trouble him not;
To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses
As infants' empty of all thought!

Good morrow then.
Tro. I prithee now, to bed.
Are you aweary of me?
Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day,
Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
I would not from thee.


Night hath been too brief. 11 Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays

As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
You will catch cold, and curse me.
Prithee, tarry:


You men will never tarry.
O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's
one up.

Pan. Within. What! 's all the doors open

Tro. It is your uncle.


Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking:

I shall have such a life!


Pan. How now, how now! how go maidenheads?

Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid? Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!

You bring me to do-and then you flout me too.

Pan. To do what to do what? let her say what what have I brought you to do?

Cres. Come, come; beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good, Nor suffer others.

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It doth import him much to speak with me.

Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be sworn for my own part, I came in late. What should he do here?

Ene. Who! nay, then: come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you're 'ware. You'll be so true to him, to be false to him. Do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go. Re-enter TROILUS.


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Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got but lost?

The devil take Antenor! the young prince will SCENE IV.-The Same. A Room in PANDARUS'S go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke's neck!


Re-enter CRESSIDA,

Cres. How now! what's the matter? Who was here?

Pan. Ah! ah!

Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord? gone! Tell me, sweet uncle, what's

the matter?

Pan. Would I were as deep under the earth

as I am above!


Cres. O the gods! what's the matter? Pan. Prithee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne'er been born! I knew thou would'st be his death. O poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor!

Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you, what's the matter?

Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor. Thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus: 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.


Cres. O you immortal gods! I will not go.
Pan. Thou must.

Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my



I know no touch of consanguinity;
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me
As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of false-

Time, force, and


If ever she leave Troilus!

Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love 110
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep,—
Pan. Do, do.

Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks,

Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my



With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy.


The Same. Before PANDARUS'S


Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And haste her to the purpose.

Walk into her house;
I'll bring her to the Grecian presently :
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus
A priest there offering to it his own heart.

Par. I know what 'tis to love;
And would, as I shall pity, I could help!
Please you walk in, my lords.

What! and from Troilus too? 31
Tro. From Troy and Troilus.
Is it possible?
Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
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,

Par. It is great morning, and the hour pre- With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to fix'd




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

As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying dross;

No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes.

where he answers again,

Ah! sweet

Embracing him.

Cres. 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,

Why sigh'st thou without breaking?

Because thou canst not ease thy smart
By friendship nor by speaking.



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, That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me. Cres. Have the gods envy?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case.
Cres. And is it true, that I must go from Troy?
Tro. A hateful truth.

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Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry | At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand, Greeks!

When shall we see again?

And by the way possess thee what she is. Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, Tro. Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword, heart,Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe Cres. I true! how now! what wicked deem is As Priam is in Ilion. this?

I speak not be thou true,' as fearing thee,
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,



Fair Lady Cressid,


Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, So please you, save the thanks this prince expects: For it is parting from us: 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, To shame the seal of my petition to thee In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece, She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises

That there's no maculation in thy heart;

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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 As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. dangers

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But yet, be true.

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.
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,


O heavens! 'be true' again! I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth
Tro. Hear why I speak it, love:
The Grecian youths are full of quality;
Their loving well compos'd with gift of nature,
Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise:
How novelties may move, and parts with person,
Alas! a kind of godly jealousy,

She shall be priz'd; but that you say 'be't so,"
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour, 'no.'

Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,
Makes me afeard.



O heavens! you love me not.
Tro. Die I a villain then!
In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and

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Tro. Come, to the port. I'll tell thee, Diomed,
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.
Lady, give me your hand, and, as we walk,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
DIOMEDES. Trumpet sounded.
Par. Hark! Hector's trumpet.


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

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SCENE V.-The Grecian Camp. Lists set out. Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and Others.

Agam. Here art thou in appointment fresh
and fair,

Anticipating time with starting courage.
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant
And hale him hither.

Ajax. Thou, trumpet, there's my purse.
Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe:
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek
Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon.

Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood;

Thou blow'st for Hector.

Ulyss. No trumpet answers.
A chil.

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Ulyss. It were no match, your nail against his horn.

May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?

I do desire it.


Cres. You may.
Why, beg then.
Ulyss. Why then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss,
When Helen is a maid again, and his.
Cres. I am your debtor; claim it when 'tis due.
Ulyss. Never 's my day, and then a kiss of you.
Dio. Lady, a word: I'll bring you to your
father. DIOMEDES leads out CRESSIDA.
Nest. A woman of quick sense.
Fie, fie upon her!
There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her body.
O! these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes,
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
To every tickling reader, set them down
For sluttish spoils of opportunity
And daughters of the game.

All. The Trojans' trumpet.


Trumpet within.

Yonder comes the troop.

Enter HECTOR, armed; ENEAS, TROILUS, and other Trojans, with Attendants.

Ene. Hail. all you state of Greece! what shall be done

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Agam. Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight, Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord Æneas Consent upon the order of their fight, So be it; either to the uttermost, Or else a breath: the combatants being kin 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;

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

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;
For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes
To tender objects; but he in heat of action
Is more vindicative than jealous love.
They call him Troilus, and on him erect
A second hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus says Eneas; one that knows the youth
Even to his inches, and with private soul
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.
Alarum. HECTOR and AJAX fight.
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,

Dio. You must no more.



Trumpets cease. Princes, enough, so please you, Ajax. I am not warm yet; let us fight again. Dio. As Hector pleases. Hect.

Why, then will I no more.

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