women Cressids, and all brokers-between Pan-So do each lord, and either greet him not, dars! say, Amen. Tro. Amen. Cres. Amen. Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber and a bed, which bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death: away. And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here, Bed, chamber, Pandar, to provide this geer! [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Grecian camp. Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, Ajax, Menelaus, and Calchas. Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have done you, The advantage of the time prompts me aloud make demand. Cal. You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor, Wanting his manage; and they will almost In most accepted pain. Agam. Let Diomedes bear him, And bring us Cressid hither; Calchas shall have Withal, bring word-if Hector will to-morrow Dio. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden Which I am proud to bear. [Exe. Dio. and Cal. Enter Achilles and Patroclus, before their tent. Ulyss. Achilles stands i'the entrance of his tent: Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way. Achil. What, comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. Agam. What says Achilles? would he aught with us? Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the Achil. What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles? Patr. They pass by strangely: they were us'd to bend, To send their smiles before them to Achilles; Achil. What, am I poor of late? 'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune, Must fall out with men too: What the declin'd is, He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, As feel in his own fall: for men, like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings, but to the summer; And not a man, for being simply man, Hath any honour; but honour for those honours Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, Now, great Thetis' son? Achil. What are you reading? Ulyss. A strange fellow here Writes me, That man-how dearly ever parted, How much in having, or without, or in,Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; As when his virtues shining upon others Heat them, and they retort that heat again To the first giver. Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses. Please it our general to pass strangely2 by him, If so, I have derision med'cinable, The beauty that is borne here in the face him: To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself To use between your strangeness and his pride, (1) An instrument for tuning harps, &c. Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves That no man is the lord of any thing (Though in and of him there be much consisting,) Till he communicate his parts to others: Nor doth he of himself know them for aught The present eye praises the present object: Till he behold them form'd in the applause And still it might; and yet it may again, verberates And case thy reputation in thy tent; Where they are extended; which, like an arch, re- If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive, there are, Most abject in regard, and dear in use! And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow, How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall, Achil. I do believe it: for they pass'd by me, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, selves, Ulyss. Is that a wonder? Ha! known? The providence that's in a watchful state, Those scraps are good deeds past: which are de- Great Hector's sister did Achilles win; vour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; That one by one pursue: If you give way, Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do in O, then beware; Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves: Seals a commission to a blank of danger; Even then when we sit idly in the sun. Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus: I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him To invite the Trojan lords after the combat, To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's longing, To see great Hector in his weeds of peace; Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd! (3) The descent of the deities to combat on either side. Enter Thersites. Ther. A wonder! Achil. What? And I myself see not the bottom of it. [Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had for himself. Achil. How so? Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hесtor; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. Achil. How can that be? Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride and a stand: ruminates, like a 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 it 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 is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin. Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites. Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arrns. 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-seven-times-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Aga memnon. Do this. Patr. Jove bless great Ajax. Ther. Humph! Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles,Ther. Ha! Patr. Who most humbly desires you, to invite Hector to his tent! Patr. What say you to't? Ther. God be wi' you, with all my heart. Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me. Patr. Your answer, sir. Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings! on. Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable? creature. Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; (1) Lute-strings made of catgut. (2) Intelligent. rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance. [Exit. Æne. Is the prince there in person?Had I so good occasion to lie long, As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company. Dio. That's my mind too. Good morrow, lord Æneas. Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand. Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field. Æne. Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle truce: Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. Æne. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly With his face backward.-In humane gentleness, Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear, No man alive can love, in such a sort, The thing he means to kill, more excellently. Dio. We sympathize:-Jove, let Æneas live, If to my sword his fate be not the glory, A thousand complete courses of the sun! But, in mine emulous honour, let him die, With every joint a wound; and that to-morrow! Æne. We know each other well. Dio. We do; and long to know each other not. Par. His purpose meets you; 'Twas to bring this Greek To Calchas' house; and there to render him, Æne. That I assure you; The bitter disposition of the time There is no help; On, lord; we'll follow you. (3) Conversation. Æne. Good morrow, all. [Exit. -Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid? Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,- Dio. Both alike: He merits well to have her, that doth seek her Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman. For every false drop in her bawdy veins A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak, Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy: But we in silence hold this virtue well,We'll not commend what we intend to sell. Here lies our way. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Court before the house of Pandarus. Enter Troilus and Cressida. Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. uncle ! Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking 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; beshrew3 your heart! you'll ne'er be good, Nor suffer others. Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia!4-hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! [Knocking. Cres. Did I not tell you?-'Would he were knock'd o'the head! Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see.- Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.[Knocking. How earnestly they knock!-pray you, come in; I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt Troilus and Cressida. Pan. [Going to the door. Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now? what's the matter? Enter Æneas. Æne. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. Pan. Who's there? my lord Æneas? By my troth, I knew you not: what news with you so early? Æne. Is not prince Troilus here? Pan. Here! what should he do here? Æne. Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny him; It doth import him much, to speak with me. Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle I'll be sworn: For my own part, I came in late: down; What should he do here? Æne. Who!-nay, then :Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are 'ware: You'll be so true to him, to be false to him: Do not you know of him, yet go fetch him hither; Good morrow then. Go. Are you a-weary of me? ture Enter Pandarus. Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt Troilus and Æneas. Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. Pan. How now, how now? how go maiden- A plague upon Antenor: I would, they had broke's 164 Enter Cressida. Cres. How now? What is the matter? Who Pan. Ah, ah! Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above! Cres. O the gods!-what's the matter? Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in; 'Would thou hadst ne'er been born! I knew, thou would'st be his death:-O poor gentleman!-A plague upon An tenor? Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, Cres. O you immortal gods!-I will not go. Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father; No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me, Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood, 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 heart [Exeunt. With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. Par. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd And haste her to the purpose. Tro. Cres. O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him. Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too: O heart!-as the goodly saying is, o heart, o heavy heart, where he answers again, Because thou canst not ease thy smart, By friendship, nor by speaking. There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast away That the blest gods-as angry with my fancy, Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case. Cres. What, and from Troilus too? Tro. From Troy, and Troilus. Is it possible? Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With distinct breath and consign'd2 Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die.- Walk in to her house; or my heart will be blown up by the root! I'll bring her to the Grecian presently: Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus A priest, there offering to it his own heart. [Exit. Par. I know what 'tis to love; And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help!- SCENE IV. -The same. A room in Pandarus' [Exit Pandarus. Cres. I must then to the Greeks? When shall we see again? Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of [Exeunt. heart, Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem is this? Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, Pan. Be moderate, be moderate. For it is parting from us: Cres. Why tell you me of moderation? The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee; And violenteth in a sense as strong That there's no maculations in thy heart: As that which causeth it: How can I moderate it? But be thou true, say I, to fashion in If I could temporize with my affection, My sequent protestation; be thou true, Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, And I will see thee. The like allayment could I give my grief: Cres. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers My love admits no qualifying dross: As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true. No more my grief, in such a precious loss. Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve. Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you? (3) Interrupted. (4) Surmise. (5) Spot. |