Shakespeare, William
The Historie of Troylus and Cresseida
1601-1602
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STC 22332 (carton 904)
1609 quarto
London: R.Borian and H.Halley, 1609
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A never writer, to an ever
reader. Newes.
Eternall reader, you have heere a new
play, never stal'd with the Stage,
never clapper- clawd with the palmes
of the vulger, and yet passing full of
the palme comicall; for it is a birth of
your braine, that never under- tooke
any thing commicall, vainely: And
were but the vaine names of commedies changde for the
titles of Commodities, or of Playes for Pleas; you should
see all those grand censors, that now stile them such
vanities, flock to them for the maine grace of their
gravities: especially this authors Commedies, that are
so fram'd to the life, that they serve for the most com-mon
Commentaries, of all the actions of our lives, shew-ing
such a dexteritie, and power of witte, that the most
displeased with Playes, are pleasd with his Commedies.
And all such dull and heavy- witted worldlings, as were
never capable of the witte of a Commedie, comming by
report of them to his representations, have found that
witte there, that they never found in them- selves, and
have parted better wittied then they came: feeling an
edge of witte set upon them, more then ever they
dreamd they had braine to grinde it on. So much and
such savored salt of witte is in his Commedies, that they
seeme (for their height of pleasure) to be borne in that
sea that brought forth Venus. Amongst all there is
none more witty then this: And had I time I would
comment upon it, though I know it needs not, (for so
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much as will make you thinke your testerne well be-stowd)
but for so much worth, as even poore I know to be
stuft in it. It deserves such a labour, as well as the best
Commedy in Terence or Plautus. And beleeve this,
That when hee is gone, and his Commedies out of sale,
you will scramble for them, and set up a new English
Inquisition. Take this for a warning, and at the perrill
of your pleasures losse and Judgements, refuse not, nor
like this the lesse, for not being sullied, with the smoaky
breath of the multitude; but thanke fortune for the
scape it hath made amongst you. Since by the grand
possessors wills I beleeve you should have prayd for them
rather then beene prayd. And so I leave all such to bee
prayd for (for the states of their wits healths)
that will not praise it.
Vale.
Enter Pandarus and Troylus.
Troy. Call heere my varlet, Ile unarme againe,
Why should I warre without the walls of Troy:
That finde such cruell battell here within,
Each Troyan that is maister of his heart,
Let him to field Troylus alas hath none.
Pan. Will this geere nere be mended?
Troy. The Greeks are strong and skilfull 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 unpractiz'd infancy:
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part ile
not meddle nor make no farther; hee that will have a cake
out of the wheate must tarry the grynding.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. I the grinding; but you must tarry the boulting.
Troy. Have I not tarried?
Pande. I the boulting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Troy. Still have I tarried.
Pan. I, to the leavening, but heares yet in the word here-after,
the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating the
oven, and the baking, nay you must stay the cooling too, or
yea may chance burne your lippes.
Troy. Pacience her selfe, what Godesse ere she be,
Doth lesser blench at suffrance then I do:
At Priams royall table do I sit
And when faire Cressid comes into my thoughts,
So traitor then she comes when she is thence.
Pand. Well shee lookt yesternight fairer then ever I saw her
looke, or any woman els.
Troy. I was about to tell thee when my heart,
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As wedged with a sigh would rive in twaine,
Least Hector or my father should perceive mee:
I have (as when the Sunne doth light a scorne)
Buried this sigh in wrincle of a smyle,
But sorrow that is coucht in seeming gladnesse,
Is like that mirth fate turnes to suddaine sadnesse.
Pan: And her haire were not some- what darker then Hel-lens,
well go to, there were no more comparison betweene
the women! but for my part she is my kinswoman, I would
not as they tearme it praise her, but I would som- body had
heard her talke yester- day as I did, I will not dispraise your
sister Cassandraes wit, but===
Troy. Oh Pandarus I tell thee Pandarus,
When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd
Reply not in how many fadomes deepe,
They lie indrench'd, I tell thee I am madde:
In Cressids love? thou answerst she is faire,
Powrest in the open ulcer 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 ynke
Writing their owne reproch; to whose soft seisure,
The cignets downe is harsh, and spirit of sence:
Hard as the palme of plow- man; this thou telst me,
As true thou telst me, when I say I love her,
But saying thus in steed of oyle and balme,
Thou layst in every gash that love hath given mee
The knife that made it.
Pan: I speake no more then truth.
Troy. Thou dost not speake so much.
Pan: Faith Ile not meddle in it, let her bee as shee is, if she
bee faire tis the better for her, and shee bee not, she has the
mends in her owne hands.
Troy. Good Pandarus. how now Pandarus?
Pan: I have had my labour for my travell, ill thought on
of her, and ill thought of you, gon betweene and betweene,
but small thanks for my labour.
Troy. What art thou angry Pandarus? what with me?
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Pan. Because shee's kin to me therefore shee's not so faire
as Hellen, and she were kin to me, she would be as faire a Fri-day
as Hellen, is on Sunday, but what I? I care not and shee
were a blackeamore, tis all one to mee.
Troy. Say I she is not faire?
Pan. I do not care whether you do or no, she's a foole to
stay behinde her father let her to the Greekes, and so Ile tell
her the next time I see her for my part Ile meddle nor make
no more ith' matter.
Troy.> Pandarus. Pan. Not I.
Troy. Sweete Pandarus.
Pan. Pray you speake no more to mee I will leave all as I
found it and there an end. Exit.
Sound alarum.
Troy. Peace you ungracious clamors, peace rude sounds,
Fooles on both sides, Hellen must needes be faire,
When with your bloud you daylie paint her thus,
I cannot fight upon this argument:
It is too starv'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 wood to woe,
As she is stubborne, chast, against all suite.
Tell me Apollo for thy Daphnes love
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we:
Her bed is India there she lies, a pearle,
Betweene our Ilium, and where shee recides
Let it be cald the wild and wandring flood:
Our selfe the Marchant, and this sayling Pandar,
Our doubtfull hope, our convoy and our barke.
Alarum Enter Aeneas.
Aene. 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 Aeneas from the field to day?
Aene. That Paris is returned home and hurt.
Troy. By whom Aeneas?
Aene. Troylus by Menelaus.
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Troy. Let Paris bleed tis but a scar to scorne,
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus horne. Alarum.
Aene. Harke what good sport is out of towne to day.
Troy. Better at home, if would I might were may:
But to the sport abrode are you bound thither?
Aene. In all swift hast.
Troy.> Come goe wee then togither. Exeunt.
Enter Cressid and her man.
Cres. Who were those went by?
Man. Queene Hecuba, and Hellen.
Cres. And whether goe they?
Man. Up to the Easterne tower,
Whose hight commands as subiect all the vaile,
To see the battell: Hector whose pacience,
Is as a vertue fixt, to day was mov'd:
Hee chid 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 goes he; where every flower
Did as a Prophet weepe what it foresawe,
In Hectors wrath. Cres. What was his cause of anger.
Man. The noise goes this, there is amonge the Greekes,
A Lord of Troian bloud, Nephew to Hector,
They call him Aiax. Cres. Good; and what of him.
Man. They say hee is a very man per se and stands alone.
Cres. So do all men unlesse they are dronke, sicke, or have no
legges.
Man. This man Lady, hath rob'd many beasts of their par-ticular
additions, hee is as valiant as the Lyon, churlish as
the Beare, slowe as the Elephant: a man into whome nature
hath so crowded humors, that his valour is crusht into folly,
his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a ver-tue,
that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any ma[n] an attaint, but
he carries some staine of it. Hee is melancholy without cause
and merry against the haire, hee hath the joynts of every
thing, but every thing so out of joynt, that hee is a gowtie
Briareus, many hands, & no use: or purblinde Argus, al eyes,
and no sight.
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Cres. But how should this man that makes me smile, make
Hector angry.
Man They say hee yesterday cop't Hector in the battell
and stroke him downe, the disdaine and shame whereof
hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.
Cres. Who comes here.
Man Maddam your uncle Pandarus.
Cres. Hectors a gallant man.
Man As may be in the world Lady.
Pand. Whats that? whats that?
Cres. Good morrow uncle Pandarus.
Pan. Good morrow cozen Cressid: what doe you talke of?
good morrow Alexander: how doe you cozen? when were
you at Illium? Cres. This morning uncle.
Pan. What were you talking of when I came? was Hector
arm'd and gon ere yea came to Illium, Hellen was not up
was she? Cres. Hector was gone but Hellen was not up?
Pan. E'ene so, Hector was stirring early.
Cres. That were wee talking of, and of his anger.
Pan:> Was he angry? Cres: So he saies here.
Pan: True hee was so; I know the cause to, heele lay about
him to day I can tel them that, & ther's Troylus wil not come
farre behind him, let them take heede of Troylus; I can tell
them that too. Cres. What is he angry too?
Pan: Who Troylus? Troylus is the better man of the two:
Cres: Oh Jupiter ther's no comparison.
Pan: What not betweene Troylus and Hector? do you know
a man if you see him?
Cres: I, if I ever saw him before and knew him:
Pan: Well I say Troylus is Troylus:
Cres. Then you say as I say, for I am sure hee is not Hector.
Pan. No nor Hector is not Troylus in some degrees.
Cres. Tis just, to each of them he is himselfe.
Pan. Himselfe, alas poore Troylus I would he were.
Cres. So he is.
Pan. Condition I had gone bare- foot to India.
Cres. He is not Hector.
Pan. Himselfe? no? hee's not himselfe, would a were him-selfe,
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well the Gods are above, 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.
Cres.> Excuse me. Pand. He is elder.
Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.
Pand. Th' others not come too't, you shall tell me another
tale when th' others come too't, Hector shall not have his
will this yeare.
Cres. He shall not neede it if he have his owne.
Pand. Nor his qualities.
Cres.> No matter. Pand. Nor his beautie.
Cres. Twould not become him, his own's better.
Pan. You have no judgement neece; Hellen her selfe
swore th' other day that Troylus for a browne favour (for so
tis I must confesse) not browne neither.
Cres. No, but browne.
Pand. Faith to say truth, browne and not browne.
Cres. To say the truth, true and not true.
Pand. She praisd his complexion above Paris,
Cres.> Why Paris hath colour inough. Pand. So he has.
Cres. Then Troylus should have too much, if shee praizd
him above, his complexion is higher then his, hee
having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming
a praise for a good complexion, I had as lieve Helens golden
tongue had commended Troylus for a copper nose.
Pand. I sweare to you I thinke Helen loves him better then Paris.
Cres. Then shees a merry greeke indeed.
Pand. Nay I am sure she dooes, she came to him th' other
day into the compast window, and you know hee 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 lifte as much as his brother Hector.
Cres. Is he so yong a man, and so old a lifter.
Pand. But to proove to you that Hellen loves him, shee
came and puts mee her white hand to his cloven chin.
Cres. Juno have mercy, how came it cloven?
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Pan. Why, you know tis dimpled,
I thinke his smyling becomes him better then any man in
all Phrigia. Cres. Oh he smiles valiantly.
Pan. Dooes hee not?
Cres. Oh yes, and twere a clowd in Autumne.
Pan. Why go to then, but to prove to you that Hellen
loves Troylus.
Cres. Troylus wil stand to thee proofe if youle proove it so.
Pan. Troylus, why hee esteemes her no more then I e-steeme
an addle egge:
Cres. If you love an addle egge as well as you love an idle
head you would eate chickens ith shell.
Pan. I cannot chuse but laugh to thinke how she ticled
his chin, indeed shee has a marvel's white hand I must needs
confesse.
Cres. Without the rack.
Pan. And shee takes upon her to spie a white heare on
his chinne.
Cres. Alas poore chin many a wart is ritcher.
Pan. But there was such laughing, Queene Hecuba laught
that her eyes ran ore.
Cres. With milstones.
Pan. And Cassandra laught.
Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot
of her eyes: did her eyes run ore to?
Pan. And Hector laught.
Cres. At what was all this laughing.
Pan. Marry at the white heare that Hellen spied on Troy-lus
chin.
Cres. And t'had beene a greene heare I should have
laught too.
Pan. They laught not so much at the heare as at his pret-ty
answere.
Cres, What was his answere?
Pan. Quoth shee heere's but two and fifty heires on your
chinne; and one of them is white.
Cres. This is her question.
Pan. Thats true, make no question of that, two and fiftie
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heires quoth hee, and one white, that white heire is my fa-ther,
and all the rest are his sonnes. Jupiter quoth shee, which
of these heires is Paris my husband? the forked one quoth
he, pluckt out and give it him: but there was such laughing,
and Hellen so blusht, and Paris so chaf't, and all the rest so
laught that it past.
Cres. So let it now for it has beene a great while going by.
Pan. Wel cozen I tould you a thing yesterday, think on't.
Pan. Ile be sworne tis true, he will weepe you an 'twere a
man borne in Aprill. Sound a retreate.
Cres. And Ile spring up in his teares an' twere a nettle a-gainst
May.
Pan. Harke they are comming from the field, shall we
stand up here and see them as they passe toward Ilion, good
Neece do, sweete Neece Cresseida.
Cres. At your pleasure.
Pan. Heere, here, here's an excellent place, here wee may
see most bravely, ile tell you them all by their names, as they
passe by, but marke Troylus above the rest. Enter Aeneas.
Cres. Speake not so lowde.
Pan. Thats Aeneas, is not that a brave man, hees one of
the flowers of Troy I can tell you, but marke Troylus, you shal
see anon. Cres. Who's that?
Enter Antenor.
Pan. Thats Antenor, he has a shrow'd wit I can tell you,
and hee's man good enough, hees one o'th soundest judge-ments
in Troy whosoever, and a proper man of person, when
comes Troylus, ile shew you Troylus anon, if hee see me, you
shall see him nod at mee.
Cres. Will he give you the nod:
Pan. You shall see:
Cres.> If he do the ritch shall have more. Enter Hector.
Pan. Thats Hector, that, that, looke you that, thers a fel-low!
goe thy way Hector, ther's a brave man Neece, O brave
Hector, looke how hee lookes, theres a countenance, ist not a
brave man?
Cres. O a brave man.
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Pan: Is a not? it dooes a man heart good, looke you what
hacks are on his helmet, looke you yonder, do you see, looke
you there, thers no jesting, thers laying on, takt off, who will
as they say, there be hacks.
Cres. Be those with swords.
Enter Paris.
Pan: Swords, any thing he cares not, and the divell come to
him, its all one, by Gods lid it dooes ones heart good. Yon-der
comes Paris, yonder comes Paris, looke yee yonder
Neece, ist not a gallant man to, ist not, why this is brave 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 Troy-lus
now, you shall see Troylus anon.
Cres. Whose that?
Enter Helenus:
Pan. Thats Helenus, I marvell where Troylus is, thats He-lenus,
I thinke he went not forth to day, thats Helenus.
Cres: Can Helenus fight uncle?
Pan: Helenus no: yes heele fight indifferent, well, I marvell
where Troylus is; harke doe you not here the people crie
Troylus? Helenus is a priest;
Cres: What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
Enter Troylus.
Panda: Where? yonder? thats Deiphobus. Tis Troylus!
theres a man Neece, hem? brave Troylus the Prince of
chivalrie.
Cres. Peace for shame peace.
Pan. Marke him, note him: O brave Troylus, looke well
upon him Neece, looke you how his sword is bloudied, and
his helme more hackt then Hectors, and how hee lookes, and
how hee goes? O admirable youth, hee never 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
Hellen to change would give an eye to boote.
Cres. Here comes more.
Pa. Asses, fooles, doults, chaff & bran, chaff & bran, porredge
after meate, I could live and die in the eyes of Troylus, nere
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looke, nere looke, the Eagles are gonne, crowes and dawes,
crowes and dawes, I had rather bee such a man as Troylus,
then Agamemnon and all Greece.
Cres. There is amongst the Greekes Achilles a better
man then Troylus.
Pan. Achilles, a dray- man, a porter, a very Cammell.
Cres. Well, well:
Pan. Well, well, why have you any discretion, have you
any eyes, doe you know what a man is? is not birth, beauty,
good shape, discourse, man- hood, learning, gentlenesse, ver-tue
youth, liberallity and such like, the spice & salt that sea-son
a man.
Cres. I a minst man, and then to bee bak't with no date in
the pie, for then the mans date is out:
Pan. You are such a woman a man knowes not at what
ward you lie:
Cres: Upon my backe to defend my bellie, upon my wit
to defend my wiles, upon my secrecy to defend mine hones-ty,
my maske to defend my beauty, and you to defend all
these: and at al these wards I lie, at a thousand watches.
Pan. Say one of your watches.
Cres. Nay Ile watch you for that; and thats one of the
chiefest of them two: If I cannot ward what I would not
have hit: I can watch you for telling how I tooke the blowe
unlesse it swell past hiding, and then its past watching:
Pan:> You are such another: Enter Boy:
Boy: Sir my Lord would instantlie speake with you.
Pan: Where?
Boy: At your owne house there he unarmes him:
Pan. Good boy tell him I come, I doubt he be hurt, fare ye
well good Neice: Cres: Adiew uncle:
Pan: I wilbe with you Neice by and by:
Cres:> To bring uncle: Pan: I a token from Troylus!
Cres: By the same token you are a Bawde,
Words, vowes, guifts, teares and loves full sacrifize:
He offers in anothers enterprize,
But more in Troylus thousand fould I see,
Then in the glasse of Pandars praise may bee:
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Yet hold I off: women are angels woing,
"Things woone are done, joyes soule lies in the dooing.
That shee belov'd, knows naught that knows not this,
"Men price the thing ungaind more then 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,
"Atchivement is command; ungaind beseech,
Then though my hearts content firme love doth beare,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appeare. Exit.
Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulisses, Diomedes,
Menelaus with others.>
Aga. Princes: what griefe hath set these Jaundies ore your cheekes?
The ample proposition that hope makes,
In all designes begun on earth below,
Failes in the promist largenesse, checks and disasters,
Grow in the vaines of actions highest reard.
As knots by the conflux of meeting sap,
Infects the sound Pine, and diverts his graine,
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
Nor Princes is it matter new to us,
That we come short of our suppose so farre,
That after seaven yeares siege, yet Troy walls stand,
Sith ever action that hath gone before,
Whereof we have record, triall did draw,
Bias and thwart: not answering the ayme,
And that unbodied figure of the thought,
That gav't surmised shape: why then you Princes,
Do you with cheekes abasht behold our workes,
And call them shames which are indeed naught else,
But the protractive tryals of great Jove,
To finde persistive constancie in men.
The finenesse of which mettall is not found,
In fortunes love: for then the bould and coward,
The wise and foole, the Artist and unread,
The hard and soft seeme all affyn'd and kin,
But in the winde and tempest of her frowne,
Distinction with a broad and powerfull fan,
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Puffing at all, winnowes the light away,
And what hath masse or matter by it selfe,
Lyes rich in vertue and unmingled.
Nestor. With due observance of the godlike seate,
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,
Upon her ancient brest, making their way
With those of nobler bulke?
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and anon, behold
The strong ribbd barke through liquid mountaines cut,
Bounding betweene the two moyst elements,
Like Perseus horse. Where's then the sawcie boate,
Whose weake untymberd sides but even now
Corrivald greatnesse? either to harbor fled,
Or made a toste for Neptune: even so
Doth valours shew, and valours worth devide
In stormes of fortune; for in her ray and brightnesse
Makes flexible the knees of knotted Okes,
And Flies fled under shade, why then the thing of courage,
As rouzd with rage, with rage doth simpathize,
And with an accent tun'd in selfe same key,
Retires to chiding fortune.
Uliss. Agamemnon,
Thou great Commander, nerves and bone of Greece,
Heart of our numbers, soule and onely spright,
In whom the tempers and the minds of all
Should be shut up: heere what Ulisses speakes,
Besides th' applause and approbation,
The which most mighty (for thy place and sway
And thou most reverend) for the stretcht out life,
I give to both your speeches; which were such
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece,
Should hold up high in brasse, and such againe
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As venerable Nestor (hatcht in silver)
Should with a bond of ayre strong as the Axel- tree,
(On which heaven rides) knit all the Greekish eares
To his experienc't tongue, yet let it please both
Thou great and wise, to heare Ulisses speake.
And the great Hectors sword had lackt a master
But for these instances.
The specialtie of rule hath beene neglected,
And looke how many Grecian tents do stand,
Hollow upon this plaine, so many hollow factions,
When that the generall is not like the hive,
To whom the forragers shall all repaire,
What honey is expected? Degree being visarded
Th' unworthiest shewes as fairly in the maske.
The heavens them- selves, the plannets and this center
Observe degree, prioritie and place,
In sisture, 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 spherd,
Amidst the other; whose medcinable eye,
Corrects the influence of evill Planets,
And posts like the Commandment of a King,
Sans check to good and bad. But when the Planets,
In evill mixture to disorder wander,
What plagues, and what portents, what mutinie?
What raging of the sea, shaking of earth?
Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors
Divert and crack, rend and deracinate,
The unitie and married calme of states
Quite from their fixure: O when degree is shakt,
Which is the ladder of all high designes,
The enterprise is sick. How could communities,
Degrees in schooles, and brother- hoods in Citties,
Peacefull commerce from devidable shores,
The primogenitie and due of birth,
Prerogative of age, crownes, scepters, lawrels,
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But by degree stand in authentique place:
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And harke what discord followes, each thing melts
In meere oppugnancie: the bounded waters
Should lift their bosomes higher then the shores,
And make a sop of all this solid globe:
Strength should be Lord of imbecilitie,
And the rude sonne should strike his father dead.
Force should be right or rather right and wrong,
(Betweene whose endlesse jarre Justice recides)
Should loose their names, and so should Justice to?
Then every thing include it selfe in power,
Power into will, will into appetite,
And appetite an universall Woolfe,
(So doubly seconded with will and power)
Must make perforce an universall prey,
And last eate up himselfe.
Great Agamemnon,
This chaos when degree is suffocate,
Followes the choaking,
And this neglection of degree it is,
That by a pace goes backward with a purpose
It hath to clime. The generalls disdaind,
By him one step below, he by the next,
That next by him beneath, so every step,
Exampl'd by the first pace that is sick
Of his superior, growes to an envious feaver
Of pale and bloudlesse emulation,
And 'tis this feaver that keepes Troy on foote,
Not her owne sinnews. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weaknesse stands not in her strength.
Nestor. Most wisely hath Ulisses here discoverd,
The fever whereof all our power is sick.
Agamem. The nature of the sicknesse found, Ulisses
What is the remedie?
Ulisses. The great Achilles whom opinion crownes,
The sinnow and the fore- hand of our hoste,
Having his eare full of his ayrie fame,
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Growes dainty of his worth, and in his Tent
Lies mocking our designes: with him Patroclus
Upon a lazie bed the live- long day,
Breakes scurrell jests,
And with ridiculous and sillie action,
Which (slanderer) he Imitation calls,
Thy toplesse deputation he puts on,
And like a strutting Player, whose conceit
Lyes in his ham- string, and doth thinke it rich
To heere the woodden dialogue and sound,
Twixt his stretcht footing and the scoaffollage,
Such to be pitied and ore- rested seeming,
He acts thy greatnesse in. And when he speakes,
Tis like a chime a mending, with termes unsquare,
Which from the tongue of roaring Tiphon dropt,
Would seeme hiperboles, at this fustie stuffe,
The large Achilles on his prest bed lolling,
From his deepe chest laughes out a lowd applause,
Cries excellent; 'tis Agamemnon right,
Now play me Nestor, hem and stroake thy beard,
As he being drest to some Oration,
That's done, as neere as the extremest ends
Of paralells, 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 scaene of myrth, to coffe and spit,
And with a palsie fumbling on his gorget,
Shake in and out the rivet, and at this sport
Sir valour dyes, cryes O enough Patroclus,
Or give me ribbs of steele, I shall split all
In pleasure of my spleene, and in this fashion,
All our abilities, guifts, natures shapes,
Severalls and generalls of grace exact,
Atchivements, plots, orders, preventions,
Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,
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Successe or losse, what is, or is not, serves
As stuffe for these two to make paradoxes.
Nestor. And in the imitation of these twaine,
Who as Ulisses sayes opinion crownes,
With an imperiall voyce: many are infect,
Aiax is growne selfe- wild, and beares his head
In such a reyne, in full as proud a place
As broad Achilles: keepes his Tent like him,
Makes factious feasts, railes on our state of warre,
Bould as an Oracle, and sets Thersites
A slave, whose gall coynes slanders like a mint,
To match us in comparisons with durt,
To weaken our discredit, our exposure
How ranke so ever rounded in with danger.
Ulisses. They taxe our pollicie, and call it cowardice,
Count wisdome as no member of the warre,
Forstall prescience, and esteeme no act
But that of hand, the still and mentall parts,
That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
When fitnesse calls them on, and know by measure
Of their observant toyle the enemies waight,
Why this hath not a fingers dignitie,
They call this bed- worke, mappry, Closet warre,
So that the Ram that batters downe the wall,
For the great swinge and rudenesse of his poise,
They place before his hand that made the engine,
Or those that with the finesse of their soules,
By reason guide his execution.
Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles horse
Makes many Thetis sonnes,
Agam. What trumpet? looke Menelaus.
Mene. From Troy.
Agam. What would you fore our tent.
Aene. Is this great Agamemnons tent I pray you?
Agam. Even this.
Aene. May one that is a Herrald and a Prince,
Do a faire message to his Kingly eyes?
Agam. With surety stronger then Achilles arme;
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Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice,
Call Agamemnon head and generall.
Aene. Faire leave and large security, how may
A stranger to those most imperiall lookes,
Know them from eyes of other mortals?
Agam. How?
Aene. I, I aske that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheeke be ready with a blush,
Modest as morning, when shee coldly eyes the youthfull Phoebus,
Which is that god, in office guiding men,
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon.
Agam. This Troyan scornes us, or the men of Troy,
Are ceremonious Courtiers.
Aene. Courtiers as free as debonaire, unarm'd
As bending Angels, thats their fame in peace:
But when they would seeme soldiers, they have galls,
Good armes, strong joints, true swords, & great Joves accord
Nothing so full of heart: but peace Aeneas,
Peace Troyan, lay thy finger on thy lips,
The worthinesse of praise distaines his worth,
If that the praisd him- selfe bring the praise forth.
But what the repining enemy commends,
That breath fame blowes, that praise sole pure transcends.
Agam. Sir you of Troy, call you your selfe Aeneas?
Aene. I Greeke, that is my name.
Agam. Whats your affaires I pray you?
Aene. Sir pardon, 'tis for Agamemnons eares.
Aga. He heeres naught privately that comes from Troy.
Aene. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper with him,
I bring a trumpet to awake his eare,
To set his seat on that attentive bent,
And then to speake.
Agam. Speake frankly as the winde,
It is not Agamemnons sleeping houre;
That thou shalt know Troyan he is awake,
Hee tels thee so himselfe.
Aene. Trumpet blowe alowd,
Send thy brasse voyce through all these lazie tents,
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And every Greeke of mettell let him know,
What Troy meanes fairely, shall be spoke alowd. Sound trumpet.
We have great Agamemnon heere in Troy,
A Prince calld Hector, Priam is his father,
Who in his dull and long continved truce,
Is restie growne: He bad me take a Trumpet,
And to this purpose speake. Kings, Princes, Lords,
If there be one among the fair'st of Greece,
That holds his honour higher then his ease,
And feeds his praise, more then he feares his perill,
That knowes his valour, and knowes not his feare,
That loves his Mistresse more then in confession,
(With truant vowes to her owne lips he loves)
And dare avowe her beautie, 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 ever Greeke did couple in his armes,
And will to morrow with his Trumpet call,
Mid- way betweene your tents and walls of Troy,
To rouze a Grecian that is true in love:
If any come, Hector shall honor him:
If none, heele say in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian dames are sun- burnt, and not worth
The splinter of a Launce. Even so much.
Agam. This shall be told our lovers Lord Aeneas,
If none of them have soule in such a kinde,
We left them all at home, but we are souldiers,
And may that souldier a meere recreant proove,
That meanes not, hath not, or is not in love:
If then one is, or hath a meanes to be,
That one meetes Hector: if none else I am he.
Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man
When Hectors grand- sire suckt. He is old now,
But if there be not in our Grecian hoste,
A noble man that hath no sparke of fire
To answer for his love, tell him from me,
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Ile hide my silver beard in a gould beaver,
And in my vambrace put my withered braunes
And meeting him tell him that my Lady,
Was fairer then his grandam, and as chast,
As may bee in the world, (his youth in flood)
Ile prove this troth with my three drops of bloud,
Aene. Now heavens for- fend such scarcity of men.
Ulis. Amen: faire Lord Aeneas let me touch your hand,
To our pavilion shall I leade you sir;
Achilles shall have word of this intent,
So shall each Lord of Greece from tent to tent,
Your selfe shall feast with us before you goe,
And finde the welcome of a noble foe.
Ulis.> Nestor. Nest. What saies Ulisses?
Ulis. I have a yong conception in my braine,
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.
Nest. What ist?
Ulis: Blunt wedges rive hard knots, the seeded pride,
That hath to this maturity blowne up
In ranke Achilles, must or now be cropt,
Or shedding breede a noursery of like evill,
To over- bulk us all. Nest. Well and how?
Ulis: This challeng that the gallant Hector sends,
How ever it is spread in generall name
Relates in purpose onely to Achilles.
Nest. True the purpose is perspicuous as substance,
Whose grosenesse little characters sum up:
And in the publication make no straine,
But that Achilles weare his braine, as barren,
As banks of libia (though Apollo knowes
Tis dry enough) will with great speed of judgement,
I with celerity finde Hectors purpose, pointing on him.
Ulis. And wake him to the answere thinke you?
Nest. Why tis most meete; who may you elce oppose,
That can from Hector bring those honours off,
If not Achilles: though't be a sportfull combat,
Yet in the triall much opinion dwells:
For here the Troyans tast our deerst repute,
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With their fin'st pallat, and trust to me Ulisses
Our imputation shalbe odly poizde
In this vilde action, for the successe,
Although perticuler shall give a scantling
Of good or bad unto the generall,
And in such indexes (although small pricks
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 meetes Hector, yssues from our choice,
And choice (being mutuall act of all our soules)
Makes merit her election, and doth boyle,
(As twere from forth us all) a man distill'd
Out of our vertues, who miscarrying,
What heart receives from hence a conquering part,
To steele a strong opinion to them selves.
Uliss. Give pardon to my speech? therefore tis meete,
Achilles meete not Hector, let us like Marchants
First shew foule wares, and thinke perchance theile sell;
If not; the luster of the better shall exceed,
By shewing the worse first: do not consent,
That ever Hector and Achilles meet,
For both our honour and our shame in this, are dog'd with
two strange followers.
Nest. I see them not with my old eyes what are they?
Uless. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector
Were he not proud, we all should share with him:
But he already is too insolent.
And it were better partch in Afrique Sunne,
Then in the pride and sault scorne of his eyes
Should he scape Hector faire. If he were foild,
Why then we do our maine opinion crush
In taint of our best man. No, make a lottry
And by devise let blockish Aiax draw
The sort to fight with Hector, among our selves,
Give him allowance for the better man,
For that will phisick the great Myrmidon,
Who broyles in loud applause, and make him fall,
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His crest that prouder then blew Iris bends,
If the dull brainlesse Aiax come safe off
Weele dresse him up in voices, if he faile
Yet go we under our opinion still,
That we have better men, but hit or misse,
Our proiects life this shape of sence assumes
Aiax imploy'd plucks downe Achilles plumes.
Nest. Now Ulisses I begin to relish thy advise,
And I will give a taste thereof forthwith,
To Agamemnon, go we to him straight
Two curres shall tame each other, pride alone
Must tarre the mastiffs on, as twere a bone. Exeunt.
Enter Aiax and Thersites.
Aiax. Thersites.
Ther. Agamemnon, how if he had biles, full, all over, gene-rally.
Aiax. Thersites.
Ther: And those byles did run (say so), did not the gene-rall
run then, were not that a botchy core. Aiax. Dogge.
Ther. Then would come some matter from him, I see none
now.
Aia: Thou bitchwolfs son canst thou not heare, feele then.
Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee thou mongrell beefe
witted Lord.
Aiax. Speake then thou unsalted leaven, speake, I will beate
thee into hansomnesse.
Ther. I shall sooner raile thee into wit and holinesse, but I
thinke thy horse will sooner cunne an oration without
booke, then thou learne praier without booke, thou canst
strike canst thou? a red murrion ath thy Jades trickes.
Aiax. Tode- stoole? learne me the proclamation.
Ther: Doost thou thinke I have no sence thou strikest mee
thus? Aiax. The proclamation.
Ther: Thou art proclaim'd foole I thinke.
Aiax. Do not Porpentin, do not, my fingers itch:
Ther. I would thou didst itch from head to foote, and I had
the scratching of the, I would make thee the lothsomest scab
in Greece, when thou art forth in the incursions thou strikest
as slow as another.
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Aiax. I say the proclamation.
Ther. Thou gromblest and raylest every houre on Achil-les,
and thou art as full of envy at his greatnesse, as Cerberus
is at Proserpinas beauty, I that thou barkst at him.
Aiax. Mistres Thersites.
Ther. Thou shouldst strike him. Aiax Coblofe,
Hee would punne thee into shivers with his fist, as a sayler
breakes a bisket, you horson curre. Do? do?
Aiax: Thou stoole for a witch:
Ther. I, Do? do? thou sodden witted Lord, thou hast
no more braine then I have in mine elbowes, an Asinico
may tutor thee, you scurvy valiant asse, thou art heere but to
thrash Troyans, and thou art bought and sould among those
of any wit, like a Barbarian slave. If thou use to beate mee I
will beginne at thy heele, and tell what thou art by ynches,
thou thing of no bowells thou.
Aiax.> You dog: Ther. You scurvy Lord.
Aiax. You curre.
Ther. Mars his Idiot, do rudenesse, do Camel, do, do.
Achil. Why how now Aiax wherefore do yee thus,
How now Thersites whats the matter man.
Ther. You see him there? do you?
Achil.> I whats the matter. Ther: Nay looke upon him.
Achil: So I do, whats the matter?
Ther: Nay but regard him well.
Achil: Well, why so I do.
Ther: But yet you looke not well upon him, for who some
ever you take him to be he is Aiax.
Achil. I know that foole.
Ther. I but that foole knowes not himselfe.
Aiax: Therefore I beate thee.
Ther: Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters, his eva-sions
have eares thus long, I have bobd his braine more then
he has beate my bones. It will buy nine sparrowes for a pen-ny,
and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a spar-row:
this Lord (Achilles) Aiax, who weares his wit in his bel-ly,
and his guts in his head, I tell you what I say of him.
Ach.> What. Ther. I say this Aiax.
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Achil.> Nay good Aiax. Ther. Has not so much wit.
Achil. Nay I must hold you.
Ther. As will stop the eye of Hellens needle, for whom
he comes to fight. Achil. Peace foole?
Ther. I would have peace and quietnesse, but the foole
will not, he there, that he: looke you there?
Aiax. Oh thou damned curre I shall===
Achil. Will you set your wit to a fooles.
Ther. No I warrant you, the fooles will shame it.
Patro.> Good words Thersites. Achil. Whats the quarrell.
Aiax. I bad the vile oule goe learne mee the tenor of the
proclamation, and he railes upon me.
Ther.> I serve thee not? Aiax. Well, go to, go to.
Ther. I serve here voluntary.
Achil. Your last service was suffrance: twas not voluntary,
no man is beaten voluntary, Aiax was here the voluntary,
and you as under an Impresse.
Ther. E'ene so, a great deale of your witte to, lies in your
sinnewes, or els there bee liers, Hector shall have a great
catch and knocke at either of your brains, a were as good
crack a fusty nut with no kernell.
Achil. What with me to Thersites.
Ther. Thers Ulisses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy
ere their grandsiers had nailes, yoke you like draught oxen,
and make you plough up the wars.
Achil. What? what?
Ther. Yes good sooth, to Achilles, to Aiax, to===
Aiax. I shall cut out your tongue.
Ther. Tis no matter, I shall speake as much as thou afterwards.
Patro. No more words Thersites peace.
Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles brooch bids me, shall I?
Achil. There's for you Patroclus.
Ther. I will see you hang'd like Clatpoles, ere I come any
more to your tents, I will keepe where there is wit stirring,
and leave the faction of fooles. Exit.
Patro. A good riddance.
Achil. Marry this sir is proclaim'd through all our hoste,
That Hector by the first houre of the Sunne:
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Will with a trumpet twixt our Tents and Troy,
To morrow morning call some Knight to armes,
That hath a stomack, and such a one that dare,
Maintaine I know not what, (tis trash) farewell===
Aiax. Farewell, who shall answer him.
Achil. I know not; tis put to lottry, otherwise,
He knew his man.
Aiax. O meaning you? I will go learne more of it.
Enter Priam, Hector, Troylus, Paris and Helenus.
Priam. After so many houres, lives, speeches spent,
Thus once againe saies Nestor from the Greekes:
Deliver Hellen, (and all domage els,
As honour, losse of time, travell, expence,
Wounds, friends and what els deere that is consum'd:
In hot digestion of this cormorant warre)
Shalbe stroke off, Hector what say you to't?
Hect: Though no man lesser feares the Greekes then I
As farre as toucheth my particular: yet dread Priam
There is no Lady of more softer bowells,
More spungy to suck in the sence of feare:
More ready to cry out, who knowes what followes
Then Hector is: the wound of peace is surely
Surely secure, but modest doubt is calld
The beacon of the wise, the tent that serches,
Too'th bottome of the worst let Hellen go,
Since the first sword was drawne about this question
Every tith soule 'mongst many thousand dismes,
Hath beene as deere as Hellen. I meane of ours:
If we have loste so many tenthes of ours,
To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us,
(Had it our name) the valew of one ten,
What merits in that reason which denies,
The yeelding of her up?
So great as our dread fathers in a scale
Of common ounces? will you with Compters summe,
The past proportion of his infinite
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And buckle in, a waste most fathomles,
With spanes and inches so dyminutive:
As feares and reasons: Fie for Godly shame?
Hele. No marvell though you bite so sharpe of reasons,
You are so empty of them should not our father;
Beare the great sway of his affaires with reason,
Because your speech hath none that tell him so?
Troy. You are for dreames and slumbers brother Priest,
You furre your gloves with reason, here are your reasons
You know an enemy intends you harme:
You know a sword imployde is perilous
And reason flies the obiect of all harme.
Who marvells then when Helenus beholds,
A Gretian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heeles,
And flie like chidden Mercury from Jove
Or like a starre disorbd? nay if we talke of reason,
Lets shut our gates and sleepe: man- hood and honour,
Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cram'd reason, reason and respect,
Make lyvers pale, and lustihood deiect.
Hect. Brother, shee is not worth, what shee doth cost the
keeping.
Troy. Whats aught but as tis valved.
Hect. But valew dwells not in perticuler will,
It holds his estimate and dignity,
As well wherein tis precious of it selfe
As in the prizer, tis madde Idolatry
To make the service greater then the God,
And the will dotes that is attributive;
To what infectiously it selfe affects,
Without some image of th' affected merit,
Troy. I take to day a wife, and my election:
Is led on in the conduct of my will,
My will enkindled by mine eyes and eares,
Two traded pilots twixt the dangerous shore,
Of will and Judgement: how may I avoyde?
(Although my will distast what it elected)
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The wife I choose, there can be no evasion,
To blench from this and to stand firme by honor,
We turne not backe the silkes upon the marchant
When we have soild them, nor the remainder viands,
We do not throw in unrespective sive,
Because we now are full, it was thought meete
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greekes.
Your breth with full consent bellied his sailes,
The seas and winds (old wranglers) tooke a truce:
And did him service, hee toucht the ports desir'd,
And for an old aunt whom the Greekes held Captive,
He brought a Grecian Queene, whose youth and freshnesse,
Wrincles Apolloes, and makes pale the morning.
Why keepe we her? the Grecians keepe our Aunt,
Is she worth keeping? why shee is a pearle,
Whose price hath lansh't above a thousand ships:
And turn'd crown'd Kings to Marchants,
If youle avouch twas wisdome Paris went,
As you must needs, for you all cri'd go, go,
If youle confesse he brought home worthy prize:
As you must needs, for you all, clapt your hands,
And cry'd inestimable: why do you now
The yssue of your proper wisdomes rate,
And do a deed that never fortune did,
Begger the estimation, which you priz'd
Ritcher then sea and land? O theft most base,
That wee have stolne, what we do feare to keepe,
But theeves unworthy of a thing so stolne:
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We feare to warrant in our native place.
Enter Cassandra raving.
Cass. Cry Troyans cry:
Priam. What noise? what shrike is this?
Troy. Tis our madde sister I do know her voice,
Cass.> Cry Troyans. Hect. It is Cassandra!
Cass. Cry Troyans cry, lend me ten thousand eyes,
And I will fill them with prophetick teares.
Hect. Peace sister peace.
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Cass. Virgins, and boyes, mid- age, and wrinckled elders,
Soft infancie, that nothing canst but crie,
Adde to my clamours: let us pay be- times
A moytie of that masse of mone to come:
Crie Troyans crye, practise your eyes with teares,
Troy must not bee, nor goodly Illion stand.
Our fire- brand brother Paris burnes us all,
Crie Troyans crie, a Helen and a woe,
Crie, crie, Troy burnes, or else let Hellen goe. Exit.
Hect. Now youthfull Troylus, do not these high straines
Of divination in our Sister, worke
Some touches of remorse? or is your bloud
So madly hott, that no discourse of reason,
Nor feare of bad successe in a bad cause,
Can qualifie the same?
Troy. Why brother Hector,
We may not thinke the justnesse of each act
Such, and no other then event doth forme it,
Nor once deiect the courage of our mindes,
Because Cassandra's madde, her brain- sick raptures
Cannot distast the goodnesse of a quarrell,
Which hath our severall honors all engag'd,
To make it gratious. For my private part,
I am no more toucht then all Priams sonnes:
And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us,
Such things as might offend the weakest spleene,
To fight for and maintaine.
Par. Else might the world convince of levitie,
As well my under- takings as your counsells,
But I attest the gods, your full consent,
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off
All feares attending on so dire a proiect,
For what (alas) can these my single armes?
What propugnation is in one mans valour
To stand the push and enmitie of those
This quarrell would excite? Yet I protest
Were I alone to passe the difficulties,
And had as ample power, as I have will,
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Paris should nere retract, what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuite,
Pria. Paris you speake
Like one be- sotted on your sweet delights,
You have the hony still, but these the gall,
So to be valiant, is no praise at all.
Par. Sir, I propose not meerly to my selfe,
The pleasures such a beautie brings with it,
But I would have the soile of her faire rape,
Wip't of in honorable keeping her,
What treason were it to the ransackt queene,
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her possession up
On tearmes of base compulsion? can it be,
That so degenerate a straine as this,
Should once set footing in your generous bosomes?
There's not the meanest spirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare, or sword to drawe,
When Helen is defended: nor none so noble,
Whose life were ill bestowd, or death unfam'd,
Where Helen is the subiect. Then I say,
Well may we fight for her, whom we know well,
The worlds large spaces cannot paralell.
Hect. Paris and Troylus, you have both said well,
And on the cause and question now in hand,
Have glozd, but superficially, not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to heere Morrall Philosophie;
The reasons you alleadge, do more conduce
To the hot passion of distempred blood,
Then to make up a free determination
Twixt right and wrong: for pleasure and revenge,
Have eares more deafe then Adders to the voyce
Of any true decision. Nature craves
All dues be rendred to their owners. Now
What neerer debt in all humanitie,
Then wife is to the husband? if this lawe
Of nature be corrupted through affection
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And that great mindes of partiall indulgence,
To their benummed wills resist the same,
There is a lawe in each well- orderd nation,
To curbe those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refracturie;
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's King,
As it is knowne she is, these morrall lawes
Of nature and of nations, speake alowd
To have her back returnd: thus to persist
In doing wrong, extenvates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavie. Hectors opinion
Is this in way of truth: yet nere the lesse,
My spritely brethren, I propend to you
In resolution to keepe Helen still,
For 'tis a cause that hath no meane dependance,
Upon our joynt and severall dignities.
Tro. Why there you toucht the life of our designe:
Were it not glory that we more affected,
Then the performance of our heaving spleenes,
I would not wish a drop of Troyan bloud,
Spent more in her defence. But worthy Hector,
She is a theame of honour and renowne,
A spurre to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whose present courage may beate downe our foes,
And fame in time to come canonize us,
For I presume brave Hector would not loose
So rich advantage of a promisd glory,
As smiles upon the fore- head of this action,
For the wide worlds revenew.
Hect. I am yours,
You valiant offspring of great Priamus,
Will shrike amazement to their drowsie spirits,
I was advertizd, their great generall slept,
Whilst emulation in the armie crept:
This I presume will wake him. Exeunt.
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Enter Thersites solus.
How now Thersites? what lost in the Labyrinth of thy
furie? shall the Elephant Aiax carry it thus? he beates me,
and I raile at him: O worthy satisfaction, would it were
otherwise: that I could beate him, whilst hee raild at mee:
Sfoote, Ile learne to coniure and raise Divels, but Ile see
some issue of my spitefull execrations. Then ther's Achilles, a
rare inginer. If Troy bee not taken till these two under-mine
it, the walls will stand till they fall of them- selves.
O thou great thunder- darter of Olympus, forget that thou
art Jove the king of gods: and Mercury, loose all the Ser-pentine
craft of thy Caduceus, if yee take not that little
little lesse then little witte from them that they have:
which short- armd Ignorance it selfe knowes is so aboun-dant
scarce, it will not in circumuention deliver a flie from
a spider, without drawing their massie Irons, and cutting
the web. After this the vengeance on the whole campe,
or rather the Neopolitan bone- ache: for that me thinkes is
the curse depending on those that warre for a placket. I
have said my prayers, and divell Envie say Amen. What ho
my Lord Achilles?
Patrocl. Whose there? Thersites? good Thersites come
in and raile.
Thersi. If I could a remembred a guilt counterfeit, thou
couldst not have slipt out of my contemplation: but it is no
matter, thy selfe upon thy selfe. The common curse of man-kinde,
Folly and Ignorance, be thine in great revenew: Hea-uen
blesse thee from a tutor, and discipline come not neere
thee. Let thy bloud be thy direction till thy death: then if
she that layes thee out sayes thou art not a faire course, Ile
be sworne and sworne upon't, shee never shrowded any but
lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles?
Patro. What art thou devout? wast thou in prayer?
Thers. I the heavens heare me.
Patro.> Amen. Enter Achilles.
Achil. Who's there?
Patro. Thersites, my Lord.
Achil. Where? where? O where? art thou come why my
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cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thy selfe into
my table, so many meales, come what's Agamemnon?
Ther. Thy commander Achilles, then tell me Patroclus,
whats Achilles?
Patro. Thy Lord Thersites. Then tell mee I pray thee,
what's Thersites?
Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell mee Patroclus,
what art thou?
Ther. Ile decline the whole question. Agamemnon com-mands
Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patroclus know-er,
and Patroclus is a foole.
Achil. Derive this? come?
Ther. Agamemnon is a foole to offer to command Achil-les,
Achilles is a foole to be commanded. Thersites is a foole
to serve such a foole, and this Patroclus is a foole positive.
Patr. Why am I a foole?
Ther. Make that demand of the Prover, it suffices mee
thou art: looke you, who comes heere?
Enter Agam: Uliss: Nestor, Diomed, Aiax & Calcas.
Achil. Come Patroclus, Ile speake with no body: come
in with me Thersites.
Ther. Here is such patcherie, such jugling, and such kna-uery:
all the argument is a whore, and a Cuckold, a good
quarrell to draw emulous factions, & bleed to death upon.
Agam. Where is Achilles?
Patro. Within his tent, but ill disposd my Lord.
Aga. Let it be knowne to him, that we are heere,
He sate our messengers and we lay by,
Our appertainings, visiting of him
Let him be told so, least perchance he thinke,
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.
Patro. I shall say so to him.
Uliss. We saw him at the opening of his tent,
Hee is not sick.
Aiax. Yes Lion sick, sick of proud heart, you may call it
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melancholy if you will favour the man. But by my head 'tis
pride: but why, why, let him shew us a cause?
Nest. What mooves Aiax thus to bay at him?
Uliss. Achillis hath invegled his foole from him,
Nest.> Who Thersites? Ulis. He.
Nest. The[n] wil Aiax lack matter, if he have lost his argume[n]t.
Uli. No you see he is his argument, that has his argument
Achilles.
Nes. All the better, their fractio[n] is more our wish then their
faction, but it was a stro[n]g composure a foole could disunite.
Uli. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily unty,
Heere comes Patroclus. Nest. No Achilles with him.
Ulis. The Elephant hath joynts, but none for courtesie,
His legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.
Patro. Achilles bids me say he is much sorry,
If any thing more then your sport and pleasure
Did moove your greatnesse, and this noble state,
To call upon him. He hopes it is no other
But for your health, and your disgestion sake,
An after dinners breath.
Agam. Heere you Patroclus:
We are too well acquainted with these answers,
But his evasion winged thus swift with scorne,
Cannot out- flie our apprehensions,
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him. Yet all his vertues,
Not vertuously on his owne part beheld,
Doe in our eyes begin to lose their glosse,
Yea like faire fruite in an unholsome dish,
Are like to rott untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speake with him, and you shall not sinne,
If you do say, we thinke him over- proud
And under- honest: in selfe assumption greater
Then in the note of judgement. And worthier then himselfe
Heere tend the savage strangenesse he puts on
Disguise, the holy strength of their commaund,
And under- write in an observing kinde,
His humorous predominance: yea watch
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His course, and time, his ebbs and flowes, and if
The passage, and whole streame of his commencement,
Rode on his tide. Goe tell him this, and adde,
That if he over- hold his price so much,
Weele none of him. But let him like an engine,
Not portable, lye under this report.
Bring action hither, this cannot go to warre,
A stirring dwarfe we doe allowance give,
Before a sleeping gyant. Tell him so.
Patr. I shall, and bring his answer presently.
Agam. In second voyce weele not be satisfied,
We come to speake with him: Ulisses entertaine.
Aiax. What is he more then another.
Agam. No more then what he thinkes he is.
Aiax. Is he so much: doe you not thinke he thinkes him-selfe
a better man then I am?
Agam. No question.
Aiax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is.
Agam. No noble Aiax, you are as strong, as valiant, as
wise, no lesse noble, much more gentle, and altogether
more tractable.
Aia. Why should a man be proud? how doth pride grow?
I know not what pride is.
Agam. Your minde is the cleerer, and your vertues the
fairer, hee that is proud eates up him- selfe: Pride is his
owne glasse, his owne trumpet, his owne chronicle, and
what ever praises it selfe but in the deed, devoures the
deed in the praise.
Enter Ulisses.
Aiax. I do hate a proud man, as I do hate the ingendring
of Toades.
Nest. And yet he loves himselfe, ist not strange?
Ulis. Achilles will not to the field to morrow.
Agam. Whats his excuse?
Ulis. He doth relye on none.
But carries on the streame of his dispose,
Without observance, or respect of any,
In will peculiar, and in selfe admission.
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Agam. Why will he not upon our faire request,
Untent his person, and share th' ayre with us.
Ulis. Things small as nothing, for requests sake onely,
He makes important, possest he is with greatnesse,
And speakes not to himselfe but with a pride,
That quarrels at selfe breath. Imagind worth,
Holds in his bloud such swolne and hott discourse,
That twixt his mentall and his active parts,
Kingdomd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters downe himselfe. What should I say,
He is so plaguie proud, that the death tokens of it,
Crie no recoverie. Agam. Let Aiax go to him,
Deare Lord, go you, and greete him in his tent,
'Tis said he holds you well, and will be lead,
At your request a little from himselfe.
Ulis. O Agamemnon let it not be so,
Weele consecrate the steps that Aiax makes,
When they go from Achilles: shall the proud Lord
That basts his arrogance with his owne seame,
And never suffers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts, save such as doth revolve,
And ruminate him- selfe: shall he be worshipt,
Of that we hold an idoll more then hee,
No: this thrice worthy and right valiant Lord,
Shall not so staule his palme nobly acquird,
Nor by my will assubiugate his merit,
As amply liked as Achilles is by going to Achilles,
That were to enlard his fat already pride,
And adde more coles to Cancer when he burnes,
With entertaining great Hiperion,
This Lord go to him. Jupiter forbid,
And say in thunder Achilles go to him.
Nest. O this is well, he rubs the vaine of him.
Diom. And how his silence drinkes up his applause,
Aia. If I go to him: with my armed fist ile push him ore the face.
Agam. O no, you shall not goe,
Aia. And he be proud with me, Ile phese his pride,
Let me goe to him.
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Uliss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrell.
Aiax. A paltry insolent fellow.
Nest. How he describes him selfe.
Aiax. Can he not be sociable.
Uliss. The Raven chides blacknesse.
Aiax. Ile tell his humorous bloud.
Agam. Hee wilbe the phisition, that should bee the paci-ent.
Aiax. And all men were of my minde.
Uliss. Wit would bee out of fashion.
Aiax: A should not beare it so, a should eate swords first?
shall pride carry it?
Nest. And two'od yow'd carry halfe.
Aiax. A would have ten shares. I will kneade him, Ile
make him supple, he's not yet through warme?
Nest. Force him with praiers poure in, poure, his ambition
is drie.
Uliss. My Lord you feed to much on this dislike.
Nest. Our noble generall do not do so?
Diom. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
Uliss: Why tis this naming of him do's him harme,
Here is a man but tis before his face, I wilbe silent.
Nest. Wherefore should you so?
He is not emulous as Achilles is.
Uliss. Know the whole world hee is as valiant===
Aiax. A hoarson dog that shall palter with us thus, would
he were a Troyan?
Nest. What a vice were it in Aiax now:
Uliss: If hee were proude.
Diom. Or covetous of praise.
Uliss. I or surly borne.
Diom. Or strange or selfe affected.
Uliss: Thank the heavens Lord, thou art of sweet composure
Praise him that gat thee, shee that gave thee suck:
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature,
Thrice fam'd beyond all thy erudition:
But hee that disciplind thine armes to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twaine,
And give him halfe, and for thy vigour:
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Bull- bearing Milo his addition yeeld,
To sinowy Aiax, I will not praise thy wisdome,
Which like a boord: a pale, a shore confines
This spacious and dilated parts, here's Nestor,
Instructed by the antiquary times:
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise,
But pardon father Nestor were your daies
As greene as Aiax, and your braine so temper'd,
You should not have the emynence of him,
But be as Aiax. Aiax. Shall I call you father?
Nest. I my good Sonne.
Diom. Be ruld by him Lord Aiax.
Uliss. There is no tarrying here the Hart Achilles,
Keepes thicket, please it our great generall,
To call together all his state of warre,
Fresh Kings are come to Troy. To morrow
We must with all our maine of power stand fast,
And here's a Lord come Knights from East to West
And call their flower, Aiax shall cope the best.
Aga. Go we to counsell, let Achilles sleepe,
Light boates saile swift, though greater hulkes draw deepe. Exeunt.
Enter Pandarus.
Pan. Friend you, pray you a word, doe you not follow the
yong Lord Paris. Man. I sir when he goes before mee.
Pan. You depend upon him I meane.
Man. Sir I do depend upon the Lord.
Pan. You depend upon a notable gentleman I must needs
praise him.
Pan. Friend know mee better, I am the Lord Pandarus.
Man. I hope I shall know your honour better?
Pan. I do desire it.
Man. You are in the state of grace?
Pan. Grace? not so friend, honour and Lordship are my ti-tles,
what musicke is this?
Man. I do but partly know sir, it is musick in partes.
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Pan. Know you the musicians?
Man.> Wholy sir. Pan. Who play they to?
Man. To the hearers sir.
Pan. At whose pleasure friend?
Man. At mine sir, and theirs that love musicke.
Pan. Command I meane:
Man. Who shall I command sir?
Pan. Friend we understand not one another, I am to court-ly
and thou to cunning, at whose request do these men play?
Man. Thats to't indeed sir? marry sir, at the request of Pa-ris
my Lord, who is there in person, with him the mortall
Venus, the heart bloud of beauty, loves invisible soule:
Pan. Who my cozen Cressida.
Man. No sir, Hellen, could not you finde out that by her at-tributes.
Pan. It should seeme fellow thou hast not seene the Lady
Cressid I come to speake with Paris, from the Prince Troy-lus.
I will make a complementall assault upon him for my
businesse seeth's.
Man. Sodden businesse, theirs a stew'd phrase indeed.
Enter Paris and Hellen.
Pan. Faire be to you my Lord, and to al this faire company,
faire desires in all faire measure fairlie guide them, especially
to you faire Queene faire thoughts be your faire pillow.
Hel. Dere Lord you are full of faire words:
Pan. You speake your faire pleasure sweet Queene,
Faire Prince here is good broken musicke.
Par. You have broke it cozen: and by my life you shall
make it whole againe, you shall peece it out with a peece of
your performance. Hel. He is full of harmony:
Pan:> Truely Lady no: Hel: O sir:
Pan: Rude in sooth, in good sooth very rude.
Paris: Well said my Lord, well, you say so in fits:
Pan. I have businesse to my Lord deere Queene? my Lord
will you vouchsafe me a word.
Hel. Nay this shall not hedge us out, weele here you sing
certainely:
Pan: Well sweete Queene you are pleasant with mee, but,
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marry thus my Lord my deere Lord, and most esteemed
friend your brother Troylus.
Hel. My Lord Pandarus hony sweet Lord,
Pan. Go too sweet Queene, go to?
Comends himselfe most affectionatly to you.
Hel. You shall not bob us out of our melody,
If you do our melancholy upon your head.
Pan. Sweet Queene, sweet Queene, thats a sweet Queene
I faith===
Pan. Nay that shall not serve your turne, that shall it not
in truth la? Nay I care not for such words, no, no. And my
Lord hee desires you that if the King call for him at super.
You will make his excuse.
Hel. My Lord Pandarus.
Pan. What saies my sweete Queene, my very very sweet
Queene?
Pan. What saies my sweet Queene? my cozen will fall out
with you.
Hel. You must not know where he sups.
Par. Ile lay my life with my disposer Cresseida.
Pan. No, no? no such matter you are wide, come your
disposer is sicke.
Par. Well ile make s excuse?
Pan. I good my Lord, why should you say Cresseida, no,
your disposers sick. Par. I spie?
Pan. You spy? what doe you spie? come, give mee an in-strument,
now sweete Queene:
Hel. Why this is kindely done?
Pan. My Neece is horribly in love with a thing you have
sweete Queene.
Hel. Shee shall have it my Lord, if it bee not my Lord
Paris.
Pand. Hee? no? sheele none of him, they two are
twaine.
Hel. Falling in after falling out may make them three.
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Pand. Come, come, Ile heare no more of this, Ile sing you a
song now.
Hell: I, I, prethee, now by my troth sweet lad thou haste a
fine fore- head.
Pand: I you may, you may.
Hell: Let thy song be love: this love will undoe us all. Oh
Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.
Pand: Love? I that it shall yfaith.
Par: I good now love, love, nothing but love.
Pand: Love, love, nothing but love, still love still more:
For o loves bow. Shoots Bucke and Doe.
The shafts confound not that it wounds
But ticles still the sore:
These lovers cry, oh ho they dye,
Yet that which seemes the wound to kill,
Doth turne oh ho, to ha ha he,
So dying love lives still,
O ho a while, but ha ha ha,
O ho grones out for ha ha ha === hey ho,
Hell: In love I faith to the very tip of the nose.
Par. He eates nothing but doves love, and that breeds hot
blood, and hot bloud begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts
beget hot deedes, and hot deeds is love.
Pand. Is this the generation of love: hot bloud hot
thoughts and hot deedes, why they are vipers, is love a ge-neration
of vipers:
Sweete Lord whose a field to day?
Par: Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Anthenor, and all the gal-lantry
of Troy. I would faine have arm'd to day, but my Nell
would not have it so.
How chance my brother Troylus went not?
Hell: He hangs the lippe at something, you know al Lord
Pandarus.
Pand: Not I hony sweete Queene, I long to heare how
they sped to day:
Youle remember your brothers excuse?
Par: To a hayre.
Pand: Farewell sweete Queene.
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Hell. Commend me to your neece.
Pand.> I will sweet Queene. Sound a retreat?
Par: Their come from the field: let us to Priames Hall
To greete the warriers. Sweet Hellen I must woe you,
To helpe un- arme our Hector: his stubborne bucles
With this your white enchaunting fingers toucht;
Shall more obey then to the edge of steele,
Or force of Greekish sinewes: you shall do more
Then all the Iland Kinges, disarme great Hector.
Hell: Twil make us proud to be his servant Paris?
Yea what he shall receive of us in duty,
Gives us more palme in beauty then we have.
Yea overshines our selfe.
Par:> Sweet above thought I love her? Exeunt.
Enter Pandarus Troylus, man.
Pand: How now wher's thy maister, at my Cousin Cressidas?
Man: No sir stayes for you to conduct him thether.
Pand: O heere he comes? how now, how now?
Troy: Sirra walke off.
Pand: Have you seene my Cousine?
Troy: No Pandarus, I stalke about her dore
Like to a strange soule upon the Stigian bankes
Staying for waftage, O be thou my Charon.
And give me swift transportance to these fieldes,
Where I may wallow in the lilly beds
Propos'd for the deserver. O gentle Pandar,
From Cupids shoulder plucke his painted wings,
And flye with me to Cressid.
Pand: Walke heere ith' Orchard, Ile bring her straight.
Troy: I am giddy; expectation whirles me round,
Th' ymaginary relish is so sweete,
That it inchaunts my sence: what will it be
When that the watry pallats taste indeed
Loves thrice repured Nectar? Death I feare me
Sounding distruction, or some joy to fyne,
To subtill, potent, tun'd to sharp in sweetnesse
For the capacity of my ruder powers;
I feare it much, and I doe feare besides
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That I shall loose distinction in my joyes
As doth a battaile, when they charge on heapes
The enemy flying.
Pand. Shees making her ready, sheele come straight, you
must be witty now, she does so blush, and fetches her wind so
short as if shee were fraid with a spirite: Ile fetch her; it is the
prettiest villaine, she fetches her breath as short as a new tane
sparrow.
Troy: Even such a passion doth imbrace my bosome,
My heart beats thicker then a feavorous pulse,
And all my powers do their bestowing loose
Like vassalage at unwares encountring
the eye of maiesty. Enter Pandar and Cressid.
Pand. Come, come, what need you blush?
Shames a babie; heere shee is now, sweare the othes now to
her that you have sworne to me: what are you gone againe,
you must be watcht ere you be made tame, must you? come
your waies come your waies, and you draw backward weele
put you ith filles: why doe you not speake to her. Come
draw this curtaine, and lets see your picture; alasse the day?
how loath you are to offend day light; and twere darke youd
close sooner: so so, rub on and kisse the mistresse; how now
a kisse in fee- farme: build there Carpenter, the ayre is sweet.
Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The faul-con,
as the tercell: for all the ducks ith river: go too, go too.
Troy: You have bereft me of all wordes Lady.
Pand: Words pay no debts; give her deeds: but sheele be-reave
you ath' deeds too if she call your activity in question:
what billing again: heeres in witnesse whereof the parties in-terchangeably.
Come in come in Ile go get a fire?
Cres. Will you walke in my Lord?
Troy. O Cressed how often have I wisht me thus.
Cres. Wisht my Lord? the gods graunt? O my Lord?
Troy. What should they graunt? what makes this pretty ab-ruption:
what to curious dreg espies my sweete lady in the
fountaine of our love?
Troy. Feares make divels of Cherubins, they never see truly.
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Cres. Blind feare that seeing reason leads, finds safer foo-ting,
then blind reason, stumbling without feare: to feare
the worst oft cures the worse.
Troy. O let my Lady apprehend no feare,
In all Cupids pageant there is presented no monster.
Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither.
Troy. Nothing but our undertakings, when wee vow to
weepe seas, live in fire, eate rockes, tame Tygers, thin-king
it harder for our mistresse to devise imposition ynough
then for us to undergoe any difficulty imposed. ===
This the monstruosity in love Lady, that the will is infinite
and the execution confind, that the desire is boundlesse, and
the act a slave to lymite.
Cres. They say all lovers sweare more performance then
they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never
performe: vowing more then the perfection of ten: and dis-charging
lesse then the tenth part of one. They that have
the voyce of Lyons, and the act of Hares are they not mon-sters?
Troy. Are there such: such are not we; Praise us as wee
are tasted, allow us as we prove: our head shall goe bare till
merit lover part no affection in reversion shall have a praise
in present: we will not name desert before his birth, and be-ing
borne, his addition shall bee humble: few wordes
to faire faith. Troylus shall be such to Cressid, as what en-uy
can say worst shall bee a mocke for his truth, and what
truth can speake truest not truer then Troylus.
Cres. Will you walke in my Lord?
Pand. What blushing still, have you not done talking yet?
Cres. Well Uncle what folly I commit I dedicate to
you.
Pand. I thanke you for that, if my Lord gette a boy of you,
youle give him me: be true to my Lord, if he flinch chide me
for it.
Troy: You know now your hostages, your Uncles word and
my firme faith.
Pand. Nay Ile give my word for her too: our kindred
though they be long ere they bee woed, they are constant
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being wonne, they are burres I can tell you, theyle sticke
where they are throwne.
Cres. Bouldnesse comes to me now and brings me heart:
Prince Troylus I have loved you night and day, for many
weary moneths.
Troy: Why was my Cressid then so hard to wyn?
Cres: Hard to seeme wonne: but I was wonne my Lord
With the first glance; that ever pardon me
If I confesse much you will play the tyrant,
I love you now, but till now not so much
But I might maister it; in faith I lye,
My thoughts were like unbrideled children grone
Too headstrong for their mother: see wee fooles,
Why have I blab'd: who shall be true to us
When we are so unsecret to our selves.
But though I love'd you well, I woed you not,
And yet good faith I wisht my selfe a man;
Or that we women had mens priviledge
Of speaking first. Sweete bid me hold my tongue,
For in this rapture I shall surely speake
The thing I shall repent: see see your sylence
Comming in dumbnesse, from my weaknesse drawes
My very soule of councell. Stop my mouth.
Troy: And shall, albeit sweet musique issues thence.
Pand. Pretty yfaith.
Cres. My Lord I doe beseech you pardon me,
Twas not my purpose thus to begge a kisse:
I am asham'd; O Heavens what have I done!
For this time will I take my leave my Lord.
Troy: Your leave sweete Cressid:
Pan: Leave: and you take leave till to morrow morning.
Cres:> Pray you content you. Troy: What offends you Lady?
Cres: Sir mine own company.
Troy: You cannot shun your selfe.
Cres: Let me goe and try:
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Where is my wit? I know not what I speake,
Tro. Well know they what they speake, that speake so wisely,
Cres. Perchance my Lord I show more craft then love,
And fell so roundly to a large confession.
To angle for your thoughts, but you are wise,
Or else you love not: for to be wise and love,
Exceeds mans might that dwells with gods above,
Tro. O that I thought it could be in a woman.
As if it can I will presume in you,
To feed for age her lampe and flames of love.
To keepe her constancy in plight and youth.
Out- living beauties outward, with a mind,
That doth renew swifter then blood decays,
Or that persuasion could but thus convince me,
That my integrity and truth to you,
Might be affronted with the match and waight,
Of such a winnowed purity in love,
How were I then up- lifted! but alasse,
I am as true as truths simplicity,
And simpler then the infancy of truth.
Cres.> In that ile war with you, Tro. O vertuous fight,
When right with right warres who shalbe most right,
True swains in love shall in the world to come
Approve their trueth by Troylus, when their rimes,
Full of protest, of oath and big compare,
Wants simele's truth tyrd with iteration.
As true as steele, as plantage to the moone.
As sunne to day: as turtle to her mate,
As Iron to Adamant: as Earth to th' Center,
After all comparisons of truth.
(As truths authentique author to be cited)
As true as Troylus, shall croune up the verse,
And sanctifie the nombers,
Cres. Prophet may you bee,
If I bee falce or swarve a hayre from truth,
When time is ould or hath forgot it selfe,
When water drops have worne the stones of Troy,
And blind oblivion swallowd Citties up.
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And mighty states character-les are grated,
To dusty nothing, yet let memory,
From falce to falce among falce mayds in love,
Upbraid my falcehood, when th'have said as falce,
As ayre, as water, wind or sandy earth,
As Fox to Lambe; or Wolfe to Heifers Calfe,
Pard to the Hind, or stepdame to her Sonne,
Yea let them say to sticke the heart of falsehood,
As false as Cressid.
Pand. Go to a bargaine made, seale it, seale it ile bee the
witnes here I hold your hand, here my Cozens, if ever you
prove false one, to another since I have taken such paine to
bring you together let all pittifull goers betweene be cald
to the worlds end after my name, call them all Panders, let
all constant men be Troylusses all false woemen Cressids, and
all brokers betweene panders; say Amen.
Tro.> Amen. Cre. Amen.
Pan. Amen.
Wherevpon I will shew you a Chamber, which bed be-cause
it shall not speake of your prety encounters presse it to
death; away. Exeunt.
And Cupid grant all tong- tide maydens here,
Bed, chamber, Pander to provide this geere. Exit.
Enter Ulisses, Diomed, Nestor, Agamem, Chalcas.
Cal. Now Princes for the service I have done,
Th' advantage of the time prompts me aloud,
To call for recompence: appere it to mind,
That through the sight I beare in things to love,
I have abandond Troy, left my possession,
Incurd a traytors name, exposd my selfe,
From certaine and possest conveniences,
To doubtfull fortunes, sequestring from me all,
That time acquaintance, custome and condition,
Made tame, and most familiar to my nature:
And here to doe you service am become,
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted
I do beseech you as in way of tast,
To give me now a little benefit.
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Out of those many registred in promise,
Which you say live to come in my behalfe:
Aga. What wouldst thou of us Troian? make demand?
Calc. You have a Troian prisoner cald Antenor,
Yesterday tooke, Troy holds him very deere.
Oft have you (often have you thankes therefore)
Desird my Cressed in right great exchange.
Whom Troy hath still deni'd, but this Anthenor,
I know is such a wrest in their affaires:
That their negotiations all must slacke,
Wanting his mannage and they will almost,
Give us a Prince of blood a Sonne of Pryam,
In change of him. Let him be sent great Princes,
And he shall buy my daughter: and her presence,
Shall quite strike of all service I have done,
In most accepted paine.
Aga. Let Diomedes beare him,
And bring us Cressid hither, Calcas shall have
What he requests of us: good Diomed
Furnish you farely for this enterchange,
Withall bring word If Hector will to morrow,
Bee answered in his challenge. Aiax is ready.
Dio. This shall I undertake, and tis a burthen
Which I am proud to beare. Exit,
Achilles and Patro stand in their tent.>
Uli. Achilles stands ith entrance of his tent,
Please it our generall passe strangely by him:
As if he were forgot, and princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him,
I will come last, tis like heele question mee.
Why such unplausive eyes are bent? why turnd on him,
If so I have derision medecinable,
To use betweene your strangnes and his pride,
Which his owne will shall have desire to drinke,
It may doe good, pride hath no other glasse,
To show it selfe but pride: for supple knees,
Feed arrogance and are the proud mans fees.
Aga. Weele execute your purpose and put on,
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A forme of strangnesse as we pas along,
So do each Lord, and either greet him not
Or els disdaynfully, which shall shake him more:
Then if not lookt on. I will lead the way.
Achil. What comes the generall to speake with mee?
You know my minde Ile fight no more 'gainst Troy.
Aga. What saies Achilles would he ought with us?
Nest. Would you my Lord ought with the generall.
Achil. No.
Nest. Nothing my Lord:
Aga. The better.
Achil. Good day, good day:
Men. How do you? how do you?
Achil. What do's the Cuckould scorne me?
Aiax. How now Patroclus?
Achil. Good morrow Aiax?
Aiax. Ha:
Achil. Good morrow.
Aiax.> I and good next day too. Exeunt.
Ach. What meane these fellowes know they not Achilles?
Patro. They passe by strangely: they were us'd to bend,
To send their smiles before them to Achilles:
To come as humbly as they us'd to creep, to holy aultars:
Achil. What am I poore of late?
Tis certaine, greatnesse once falne out with fortune,
Must fall out with men to, what the declin'd is,
He shall as soone reade in the eyes of others
As feele in his owne fall: for men like butter- flies,
Shew not their mealy wings but to the Summer,
And not a man for being simply man,
Hath any honour, but honour for those honours
That are without him, as place, ritches, and favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit
Which when they fall as being slipery standers,
The love that lean'd on them as slipery too,
Doth one pluck downe another, and to gether, die in the fall,
But tis not so with mee,
Fortune and I are friends, I do enioy:
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At ample point all that I did possesse,
Save these mens lookes, who do me thinkes finde out:
Some thing not worth in me such ritch beholding,
As they have often given. Here is Ulisses
Ile interrupt his reading, how now Ulisses?
Uliss. Now great Thetis Sonne.
Achil. What are you reading?
Uliss. A strange fellow here,
Writes me that man, how derely ever parted:
How much in having or without or in
Cannot, make bost to have that which he hath,
Nor feeles not what he owes but by reflection:
As when his vertues ayming upon others,
Heate them and they retort that heate againe
To the first givers.
Achil. This is not strange Ulisses,
The beauty that is borne here in the face:
The bearer knowes not, but commends it selfe.
!To others eyes, nor doth the eye it selfe
!That most pure spirit of sence, behold it selfe
Not going from it selfe: but eye to eye opposed,
Sallutes each other, with each others forme.
For speculation turnes not to it selfe,
Till it hath travel'd and is married there?
Where it may see it selfe: this is not strange at all.
Uliss. I do not straine at the position,
It is familiar, but at the authors drift,
Who in his circumstance expressly prooves,
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 hee of himselfe know them for aught:
Till he behold them formed in the applause.
Where th' are extended: who like an arch reverb'rate
The voice againe or like a gate of steele:
Fronting the Sunne, receives and renders back
His figure and his heate. I was much rap't in this,
And apprehended here immediately,
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Th' unknowne Aiax, heavens what a man is there?
A very horse, that has he knowes not what
Nature what things there are.
Most obiect in regard, and deere in use,
What things againe most deere in the esteeme:
And poore in worth, now shall we see to morrow,
An act that very chance doth throw upon him
Aiax renown'd? O heavens what some men doe,
While some men leave to doe.
How some men creepe in skittish fortunes hall,
Whiles others play the Ideots in her eyes,
How one man eates into anothers pride,
While pride is fasting in his wantonesse.
To see these Grecian Lords, why even already:
They clap the lubber Aiax on the shoulder
As if his foote were one brave Hectors brest,
And great Troy shrinking.
Achill. I doe beleeve it,
For they past by me as misers do by beggars,
Neither gave to me good word nor looke:
What are my deeds forgot?
Uliss. Time hath (my Lord) a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts almes for oblivion:
A great siz'd monster of ingratitudes,
Those scraps are good deeds past,
Which are devour'd as fast as they are made,
Forgot as soone as done, perseverance deere my Lord:
Keepes honour bright, to have done, is to hang,
Quite out of fashion like a rusty male,
In monumentall mockry? take the instant way,
For honour travells in a straight so narrow:
Where on but goes a brest, keepe then the path
For emulation hath a thousand Sonnes,
That one by one pursue, if you give way,
Or turne a side from the direct forth right:
Like to an entred tide they all rush by,
And leave you him, most, then what they do in present:
Though lesse then yours in passe, must ore top yours.
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For time is like a fashionable hoast,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand,
And with his armes out- stretcht as he would flie,
Graspes in the commer: the welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. Let not vertue seeke,
Remuneration for the thing it was. For beauty, wit,
High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subiects all,
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,
That all with one consent praise new- borne gaudes,
Though they are made and moulded of things past,
And goe to dust, that is a little guilt,
More laud then guilt ore- dusted.
The present eye praises the present obiect.
Then marvell not thou great and complet man,
That all the Greekes begin to worship Aiax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
That what stirs not. The crie went once on thee,
And still it might, and yet it may againe,
If thou wouldst not entombe thy selfe alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent,
Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late,
Made emulous missions mongst the gods them- selves,
And drave great Mars to faction.
Achil. Of this my privacie,
I have strong reasons.
Ulis. But gainst your privacie,
The reasons are more potent and heroycall:
Tis knowne Achilles that you are in love
With one of Priams daughters.
Achil. Ha? knowne.
Ulis. Is that a wonder:
The providence thats in a watchfull state,
Knowes almost every thing,
Findes bottom in the uncomprehensive depth,
Keepes place with thought and almost like the gods,
Do thoughts unuaile in their dumbe cradles.
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There is a mysterie (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the soule of state,
Which hath an operation more divine,
Then breath or pen can give expressure to:
All the commerse that you have had with Troy,
As perfectly is ours, as yours my Lord,
And better would it fitt Achilles much,
To throw downe Hector then Polixena.
But it must grieve young Pirhus now at home,
When fame shall in our Ilands sound her trumpe,
And all the Greekish girles shall tripping sing,
Great Hectors sister did Achilles winne,
But our great Aiax bravely beate downe him:
Farewell my Lord: I as your lover speake,
The foole slides ore the Ice that you should breake.
Patr. To this effect Achilles have I moov'd you,
A woman impudent and mannish growne,
Is not more loth'd then an effeminate man
In time of action: I stand condemnd for this
They thinke my little stomack to the warre,
And your great love to me, restraines you thus,
Sweete rouse your selfe, and the weake wanton Cupid,
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fould,
And like dew drop from the Lions mane,
Be shooke to ayre.
Ach. Shall Aiax fight with Hector.
Patro. I and perhaps receive much honor by him.
Achil. I see my reputation is at stake,
My fame is shrowdly gor'd.
Patro. O then beware.
Those wounds heale ill, that men do give themselves,
Omission to doe what is necessary.
Seales a commission to a blanke of danger,
And danger like an ague subtly taints
Even then when they sit idely in the sunne.
Achil. Go call Thersites hether sweet Patroclus,
Ile send the foole to Aiax, and desire him
T' invite the Troyan lords after the combate,
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To see us heere unarmd. I have a womans longing,
An appetite that I am sick with- all,
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace,
To talke with him, and to behold his visage,
Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd.
Enter Thersites.
Thersi.> A wonder. Achil. What?
Thersi. Aiax goes up and downe the field asking for
himselfe. Achil. How so?
Thersi. He must fight singly to morrow with Hector, and
is so prophetically proud of an heroycall cudgeling, that
he raves in saying nothing.
Achil. How can that be?
Thersi. Why a stalkes up and downe like a peacock, a
stride and a stand: ruminates like an hostisse, that hath no
Arithmatique but her braine to set downe her reckoning:
bites his lip with a politique regarde, as who should say
there were witte in this head and twoo'd out: and so there
is. But it lyes as coldly in him, as fire in a flint, which will
not show without knocking, the mans undone for ever, for
if Hector breake not his neck ith' combate, hee'le breakt
himselfe in vaine glory. Hee knowes not mee. I sayd
good morrow Aiax: And hee replyes thankes Agamem-non.
What thinke you of this man that takes mee for the
Generall? Hees growne a very land- fish languagelesse, a
monster, a plague of opinion, a man may weare it on both
sides like a lether Jerkin.
Achil. Thou must be my Ambassador Thersites.
Thersi. Who I: why heele answer no body: hee profes-ses
not answering, speaking is for beggers: he weares his
tongue in's armes. I will put on his presence, let Patroclus
make demands to me. You shall see the pageant of Aiax.
Achil. To him Patroclus, tell him I humbly desire the va-liant
Aiax, to invite the valorous Hector to come unarm'd
to my tent, and to procure safe- conduct for his person, of
the magnanimous and most illustrious, sixe or seaven times
honour'd Captaine Generall of the armie. Agamemnon,
do this.
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Patro.> Jove blesse great Aiax. Thers. Hum.
Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles.
Thers. Ha?
Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.
Thers. Agamemnon?
Patr.> I my Lord. Thers. Ha?
Patr. What say you too't.
Thers. God buy you with all my heart.
Patr. Your answer sir.
Thers. If to morrow be a faire day, by a leven of the clock
it will goe one way or other, howsoever he shall pay for me
ere hee ha's me. Patr. Your answer sir.
Thers. Fare yee well with all my heart.
Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
Thers. No: but out of tune thus. What musick will be in
him, when Hector ha's knockt out his braines, I know not.
But I am sure none, unlesse the fidler Apollo get his sinnews
to make Catlings on.
Achil. Come, thou shalt beare a letter to him straight.
Thers. Let mee beare another to his horse, for thats the
more capable creature.
Achil. My minde is troubled like a fountaine stird,
And I my selfe see not the bottome of it.
Thers. Would the fountaine of your minde were cleere
againe, that I might water an Asse at it, I had rather be a tick
in a sheepe, then such a valiant ignorance.
Enter at one doore Aeneas, at another Paris, Deiphobus,
Antemor, Diomed the Grecian with torches.>
Paris. See ho? who is that there?
Deiph. It is the Lord Aeneas.
Aene. Is the Prince there in person?
Had I so good occasion to lye long
As your prince Paris, nothing but heavenly businesse,
Should rob my bed mate of my company.
Dio. That's my minde too? good morrow Lord Aeneas.
Paris. A valiant Greeke Aeneas take his hand.
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Witnesse the processe of your speech: wherein
You told how Dyomed a whole weeke by daies,
Did haunt you in the field.
Aene. Health to you valiant sir,
During all question of the gentle truce:
But when I meete you arm'd, as black defiance,
As heart can thinke or courage execute.
Diom. The one and other Diomed embraces,
Our blouds are now in calme, and so long helth:
Lul'd when contention, and occasion meete,
By Jove ile play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuite, and pollicy.
Aene. And thou shalt hunt a Lyon that will flie,
With his face back-ward, in humane gentlenesse:
Welcome to Troy, now by Anchises life,
Welcome indeed: by Venus hand I swere:
No man alive can love in such a sort,
The thing he meanes to kill, more excellently.
Diom. We simpathize. Jove let Aeneas live
(If to my sword his fate be not the glory)
A thousand compleate courses of the Sunne,
But in mine emulous honor let him die:
With every joynt a wound and that to morrow===
Aene. We know each other well?
Diom. We do and long to know each other worse.
Par. This is the most despightfull gentle greeting,
The noblest hatefull love that ere I heard of, what businesse
Lord so earely?
Aene. I was sent for to the King? but why I know not.
Par. His purpose meetes you? twas to bring this Greeke,
To Calcho's house, and there to render him:
For the enfreed Anthenor the faire Cressid,
Lets have your company, or if you please,
Hast there before us. I constantly beleeve,
(Or rather call my thought a certaine knowledge)
My brother Troylus lodges there to night,
Rouse him and give him note of our approch,
With the whole quality wherefore:
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I feare we shall be much unwelcome.
Aeneas. That I assure you: Troylus had rather Troy were
borne to Greece, then Cresseid borne from Troy.
Paris. There is no helpe.
The bitter disposition of the time will have it so:
On Lord, weele follow you.
Aeneas. Good morrow all.
Paris. And tell me noble Diomed, faith tell me true,
Even in soule of sound good fellowship,
Who in your thoughts, deserves faire Helen best,
My selfe, or Menelaus.
Diom. Both alike.
Hee merits well to have her that doth seeke her,
Not making any scruple of her soyle,
With such a hell of paine, and world of charge.
And you as well to keepe her, that defend her,
Not pallating the taste of her dishonour
With such a costly losse of wealth and friends,
He like a puling Cuckold would drinke up,
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed peece:
You like a letcher out of whorish loynes,
Are pleasd to breed out your inheritors,
Both merits poyzd, each weighs nor lesse nor more,
Both he as he, the heavier for a whore.
Paris. You are too bitter to your country- woman.
Diom. Shees bitter to her country, heare me Paris,
For every false drop in her bawdy veines,
A Grecians life hath sunke: for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion waight,
A Troyan hath beene slaine. Since she could speake,
Shee hath not given so many good words breath,
As for her Greekes and Troyans suffred death.
Paris. Faire Diomed you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that they desire to buy,
But we in silence hold this vertue well,
Weele not commend, what wee intend to sell. Heere lyes
our way. Exeunt. Enter Troylus and Cresseida.
Troy. Deere, trouble not your selfe, the morne is colde.
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Cres. Then sweet my Lord ile call mine unckle downe,
Hee shall unbolt the gates.
Troyl. Trouble him not.
To bed to bed: sleepe kill those pritty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy sences,
As infants empty of all thought.
Cres. Good morrow then.
Troyl. I prithee now to bed.
Cres. Are you a weary of me?
Troyl. O Cresseida! but that the busie day,
Wak't by the Larke hath rouzd the ribald Crowes,
And dreaming night will hide our joyes no longer,
I would not from thee.
Cres. Night hath beene too briefe.
Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venemous wights she staies
As tediously as hell, But flies the graspes of love,
With wings more momentary swift then thought,
You will catch colde and curse me.
Cres. Prithee tarry, you men will never tarry,
O foolish Cresseid, I might have still held of,
And then you would have tarried. Harke ther's one up.
Pand. Whats all the doores open heere?
Troyl. It is your Uncle.
Cres. A pestilence on him: now will he be mocking:
I shall have such a life.
Pand. How now, how now, how go maiden- heads,
Heere you maide, where's my cozin Cresseid?
Cres. Go hang your selfe, you naughty mocking uncle,
You bring me to doo === and then you floute me to.
Pand. To do what, to do what? let her say what,
What have I brought you to doe?
Cres. Come, come, beshrew your heart, youle nere be good,
nor suffer others.
Pand. Ha, ha: alas poore wretch: a poore chipochia, hast
not slept to night? would hee not (a naughty man) let it
sleepe, a bug- beare take him.
Cres. Did not I tell you? would he were knockt ith' head,
Who's that at doore, good unckle go and see. One knocks.
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My Lord, come you againe into my chamber,
You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
Troyl. Ha, ha.
Cres. Come you are deceived, I thinke of no such thing,
How earnestly they knock, pray you come in. Knock.
I would not for halfe Troy have you seene here, Exeunt.
Pand. Who's there? what's the matter? will you beate
downe the doore? How now, what's the matter?
Aene. Good morrow Lord, good morrow.
Pand. Who's there my Lord Aeneas: by my troth I knew
you not: what newes with you so early?
Aene. Is not Prince Troylus heere?
Pand. Here, what should he do here?
Aene. Come he is here, my Lord, do not deny him,
It doth import him much to speake with me:
Pan. Is he here say you? its more then I know ile be sworne
For my owne part I came in late: what should hee doe
here?
Aene. Who, nay then! Come, come, youle do him wrong,
ere you are ware, youle be so true to him, to be false to him:
Do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither, go.
Troyl. How now, whats the matter?
Aene. My Lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My matter is so rash: there is at hand,
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Anthenor
Deliver'd to him, and forth- with,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this houre,
We must give up to Diomedes hand
The Lady Cresseida.
Troyl. Is it so concluded?
Aene. By Priam and the generall state of Troy,
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
Troyl. How my atchivements mock me,
I will go meete them: and my Lord Aeneas,
We met by chance, you did not finde me here.
Aen. Good, good, my lord, the secrets of neighbor Pandar
Have not more guift in taciturnitie. Exeunt.
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Pand. Ist possible: no sooner got but lost, the divell take
Anthenor, the young Prince will go madde, a plague upon
Anthenor. I would they had brok's neck.
Enter Cress. How now? what's the matter? who was heere?
Pand. Ah, ah!
Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly, wher's my Lord? gone?
tell me sweete Uncle, whats the matter.
Pan. Would I were as deepe under the earth as I am above.
Cres. O the Gods, whats the matter?
Pand. Pray thee get thee in: would thou hadst nere been
borne, I knew thou wouldest be his death. O poore Gentle-man,
a plague upon Anthenor.
Cres. Good unckle, I beseech you on my knees, whats the
matter?
Pand. Thou must be gone wench, thou must be gone: thou
art chang'd for Anthenor. Thou must to thy father and bee
gone from Troylus, twill be his death, twill bee his bane, hee
cannot beare it.
Cres. O you immortall Gods, I will not go.
Pand. Thou must.
Cres. I will not Uncle. I have forgot my father,
I know no touch of consanguinitie,
No kinne, no love, no bloud, no soule so neere me
As the sweete Troylus. O you gods divine,
Make Cresseids name the very crowne of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troylus. Time, force and death,
Do to this body what extreames you can:
But the strong base, and building of my love,
Is as the very center of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. Ile go in and weepe.
Pand. Do, do.
Cres. Teare my bright haire, & scratch my praised cheekes,
Crack my cleare voyce with sobs, and breake my heart,
With sounding Troylus: I will not go from Troy.
Enter Paris, Troyl. Aeneas; Deiphob, Anth. Diomedes.
Par. It is great morning, and the houre prefixt,
For her delivery to this valiant Greeke,
Comes fast upon: good my brother Troylus
ShaTroQH3H3
Tell you the Lady what she is to doe,
And hast her to the purpose.
Troy. Walke into her house,
Ile bring her to the Grecian presently:
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Thinke it an altar, and thy brother Troylus
A priest there offring to it his owne heart.
Paris. I know what tis to love,
And would, as I shall pitty I could helpe:
Please you walke in my Lords? Exeunt.
Enter Pandarus and Cresseida.
Pan: Be moderate, be moderate.
Cress. Why tell you me of moderation?
The greife is fine, full, perfect that I taste,
And violenteth in a sence as strong
As that which causeth it, how can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affections,
Or brew it to a weake and coulder pallat,
The like alayment could I give my griefe:
My love admittes no qualifiing drosse,
No more my griefe in such a precious losse.
Enter Troylus.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes, a sweete ducks.
Cres. Oh Troylus, Troylus.
Pan. What a paire of spectacles is here, let me embrace too,
Oh heart, as the goodly saying is, Oh heart, heavy heart,
why sighst thou without breaking: where hee answers a-gaine,
because thou canst not ease thy smart by friendshippe
nor by speaking: there was never a truer rime. Let us cast a-way
nothing, for wee may live to have need of such a verse,
We see it, we see it, how now lambs?
Troy. Cressid I love thee in so strain'd a purity,
That the blest Gods as angry with my fancy:
More bright in zeale then the devotion, which
Cold lippes blow to their dieties, take thee from me.
Cres. Have the Gods envy?
Pan. I, I, I, I, tis to plaine a case.
Cres. And is it true that I must go from Troy?
ShaTroQH3vH3v
Troy. A hatefull truth.
Cres. What and from Troylus to?
Troy. From Troy, and Troylus.
Cress. Is't possible?
Troy. And suddenly, where iniury of chance
Puts back, leave taking, jussles roughly by:
All time of pause: rudely beguiles our lippes
Of all reioyndure: forcibly prevents
Our lock't embrasures, strangles our dere vowes,
Even in the birth of our owne laboring breath;
We two that with so many thousand sighes,
Did buy each other, must poorely sell our selves:
With the rude brevity, and discharge of one,
Iniurious time now with a robbers hast,
Cram's his ritch theev'ry up hee knowes not how.
As many farewells as be starres in heaven.
With distinct breath, and consignde kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adewe:
And skants us with a single famisht kisse,
Distasted with the salt of broken teares.
Aeneas within. My Lord is the Lady ready?
Troy. Harke, you are call'd, some say the Genius
Cries so to him that instantly must die,
Bid them have pacience she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my teares raine to lay this winde, or my
heart wilbe blowne up by my throate.
Cress. I must then to the Grecians.
Troy. No remedy?
Cress. A wofull Cressid 'mongst the merry Greekes,
When shall we see againe.
Troy. Here mee love? be thou but true of heart.
Cres. I true? how now? what wicked deme is this?
Troy. Nay we must use expostulation kindely,
For it is parting from us.
I speake not be thou true as fearing thee.
For I will throw my glove to death himselfe,
That there is no maculation in thy heart:
But bee thou true say I to fashion in,
ShaTroQH4H4
My sequent protestation, bee thou true, and I will see thee.
Cres. Oh you shalbe expos'd my Lord to dangers,
As infinite as imminent: but ile be true.
Troy. And ile grow friend with danger, were this sleeve.
Cres. And you this glove, when shall I see you?
Troy. I will corrupt the Grecian centinells,
To give thee nightly visitation, but yet be true.
Cres. Oh heavens be true againe?
Troy. Here why I speake it love,
The Grecian youths are full of quality,
And swelling ore with arts and excercise:
How novelty may move, and parts with portion,
Alas a kinde of Godly jealousie,
(Which I beseech you cal a vertuous sinne,)
Makes me a feard.
Cres. Oh heavens you love mee not!
Troy. Die I a villaine then,
In this I do not call your faith in question:
So mainely as my merit. I cannot sing
Nor heele the high lavolt, nor sweeten talke,
Nor play at subtill games, faire vertues all:
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant,
But I can tell that in each grace of these:
There lurkes a still, and dumb- discoursive divell
That tempts most cunningly, but be not tempted.
Cres. Do you thinke I will?
Troy. No, but somthing may be done that we will not,
And sometimes we are divells to our selves:
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changefull potency.
Eneas within. Nay good my Lord?
Troy. Come kisse, and let us part.
Paris within. Brother Troylus?
Troy. Good brother come you hither?
And bring Eneas and the Grecian with you.
Cres. My Lord will you be true?
Troy. Who I, alas it is my vice, my fault,
Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
ShaTroQH4vH4v
I with great truth catch mere simplicity,
Whilst some with cunning guild their copper crownes,
With truth and plainesse I do were mine bare:
Feare not my truth, the morrall of my wit,
Is plaine and true? ther's all the reach of it,
Welcome sir Diomed, here is the Lady,
Which for Antenor we deliver you.
At the port (Lord) Ile give her to thy hand,
And by the way possesse thee what she is
Entreate her faire, and by my soule faire Greeke,
If ere thou stand at mercy of my sword:
Name Cressid, and thy life shalbe as safe,
As Priam is in Illion?
Diom. Faire Ladie Cressid,
So please you save the thankes this Prince expects:
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheeke,
Pleades your faire usage, and to Diomed,
You shalbe mistres, and command him wholy.
Troy. Grecian thou do'st not use me curteously,
To shame the seale of my petition to thee:
In praising her. I tell thee Lord of Greece,
She is as farre high soaring ore thy praises:
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant,
I charge thee use her well, even for my charge:
For by the dreadfull Pluto, if thou dost not,
Though the great bulke Achilles be thy guard,
Ile cut thy throate.
Diom. Oh be not mov'd Prince Troylus,
Let me be priveledg'd by my place and message:
To be a speaker free? when I am hence,
Ile answer to my lust, and know you Lord
Ile nothing do on charge, to her owne worth,
Shee shalbe priz'd: but that you say be't so,
I speake it in my spirit and honour no.
Troy. Come to the port Ile tel thee Diomed,
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head,
Lady give me your hand, and as we walke,
To our owne selves bend we our needfull talke.
ShaTroQI1I1
Paris. Harke Hectors trumpet?
Aene. How have we spent this morning?
The Prince must thinke me tardy and remisse,
That swore to ride before him to the field.
Par.> Tis Troylus falte, come, come, to field with him. Exeu[nt].
Enter Aiax armed, Achilles, Patroclus, Agam.
Menelaus, Ulisses, Nester, Calcas. &c.>
Aga. Here art thou in appointment fresh and faire,
Anticipating time. With starting courage,
Give with thy trumpet a loude note to Troy
Thou dreadfull Aiax that the appauled aire,
May pearce the head of the great Combatant, and hale him
hither.
Aiax. Thou, trumpet, ther's my purse,
Now cracke thy lungs, and split thy brasen pipe:
Blow villaine, till thy sphered Bias cheeke,
Out- swell the collick of puft Aquilon,
Come stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout bloud:
Thou blowest for Hector.
Uliss. No trumpet answers.
Achil. Tis but early daies.
Aga. Is not yond Diomed with Calcas daughter.
Uliss. Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate,
He rises on the too: that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
Aga. Is this the Lady Cressid?
Diom. Even she.
Aga. Most deerely welcome to the Greekes sweete Lady.
Nest. Our generall doth salute you with a kisse.
Uliss. Yet is the kindnesse but perticular, twere better shee
were kist in general.
Nest. And very courtly counsell. Ile beginne: so much for Nestor.
Achil. Ile take that winter from your lips faire Lady,
Achilles bids you welcome.
Men. I had good argument for kissing once.
Patro. But thats no argument for kissing now,
For thus pop't Paris in his hardiment,
And parted thus, you and your argument.
ShaTroQI1vI1v
Uliss. Oh deadly gall and theame of all our scornes,
For which we loose our heads to guild his hornes.
Patro. The first was Menelaus kisse this mine,
Patroclus kisses you.
Mene. Oh this is trim.
Patr. Paris and I kisse evermore for him.
Mene. Ile have my kisse sir? Lady by your leave.
Cres. In kissing do you render or receive.
Patr. Both take and give.
Cres. Ile make my match to live,
The kisse you take is better then you give: therefore no kisse.
Mene. Ile give you boote, ile give you three for one.
Cres. You are an od man give even or give none.
Mene. An odde man Lady, every man is odde.
Cres. No Paris is not, for you know tis true,
That you are odde and he is even with you.
Mene. You fillip me a'th head.
Cres. No ile be sworne.
Uliss. It were no match, your naile against his horne,
May I sweete Lady begge a kisse of you.
Cres.> You may. Uliss. I do desire it.
Cres. Why begge then.
Ulis. Why then for Venus sake give me a kisse,
When Hellen is a maide againe and his===
Cres. I am your debtor, claime it when tis due.
Ulis. Nevers my day, and then a kisse of you.
Diom. Lady a word, ile bring you to your father.
Nest. A woman of quick sence.
Uliss. Fie, fie upon her,
Ther's language in her eye, her cheeke her lip,
Nay her foote speakes, her wanton spirits looke out
At every joynt and motive of her body,
Oh these encounterers so glib of tongue,
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes.
And wide unclaspe the tables of their thoughts,
To every ticklish reader, set them downe,
For sluttish spoiles of opportunity:
And daughters of the game. Flowrish enter all of Troy.
ShaTroQI2I2
All. The Troyans trumpet.
Agam. Yonder comes the troup.
Aene. Haile all the state of Greece: what shalbe done,
To him that victory commands, or doe you purpose,
A victor shalbe knowne, will you the knights
Shall to the edge of all extremity
Pursue each other, or shall they be divided,
By any voice or order of the field, Hector bad aske?
Aga. Which way would Hector have it?
Aene. He cares not, heele obay condicions.
Aga: Tis done like Hector, but securely done,
A little proudly, and great deale misprising:
The knight oppos'd.
Aene. If not Achilles sir, what is your name?
Achil. If not Achilles nothing:
Ene: Therefore Achilles, but what ere know this,
In the extremity of great and little:
Valour and pride excell themselves in Hector
The one almost as infinite as all,
The other blanke as nothing, way him well:
And that which lookes like pride is curtesie,
This Aiax is halfe made of Hectors bloud,
In love whereof, halfe Hector staies at home,
Halfe heart, halfe hand, halfe Hector comes to seeke:
This blended knight halfe Troyan, and halfe Greeke.
Achil. A maiden battell then, Oh I perceive you.
Aga. Here is sir Diomed? go gentle knight,
Stand by our Aiax. As you and Lord Eneas
Consent upon the order of their fight,
So be it, either to the uttermost,
Or els a breath, the combatants being kin,
Halfe stints their strife, before their strokes begin.
Ulisses: what Troyan is that same that lookes so heavy?
Ulis. The yongest sonne of Priam, a true knight,
Not yet mature, yet matchlesse firme of word,
Speaking deeds, and deedlesse in his tongue,
Not soone provok't nor beeing provok't soone calm'd,
His heart and hand both open and both free.
ShaTroQI2vI2v
For what he has he gives, what thinkes he shewes,
Yet gives hee not till judgement 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 obiects, but he in heate of action,
Is more vindicative then jealous love.
They call him Troylus, and on him erect,
A second hope as fairely built as Hector:
Thus saies Aeneas one that knowes the youth,
Even to his ynches: and with private soule
Did in great Illion thus translate him to me. Alarum.
Aga. They are in action.
Nest. Now Aiax hould thine owne.
Troy. Hector thou sleep'st awake thee.
Aga. His blowes are well dispos'd, there Aiax. trumpets cease
Diom. You must no more.
Aene. Princes enough so please you.
Aiax. I am not warme yet, let us fight againe.
Diom. As Hector pleases.
Hect. Why then will I no more,
Thou art great Lord my fathers sisters Sonne,
A couzen german to great Priams seede,
The obligation of our bloud forbids,
A gory emulation twixt us twaine:
Were thy commixtion Greeke and Troyan so,
That thou couldst say this hand is Grecian all:
And this is Troyan, the sinnewes of this legge
All Greeke, and this all Troy: my mothers bloud,
Runnes on the dexter cheeke, and this sinister
Bounds in my fathers. By Jove multipotent
Thou shouldst not beare from mee a Greekish member,
Wherein my sword had not impressure made.
But the just Gods gainsay,
That any day thou borrowd'st from thy mother,
My sacred Aunt, should by my mortal sword,
Be drained. Let me embrace thee Aiax:
By him that thunders thou hast lusty armes,
ShaTroQI3I3
Hector would have them fall upon him thus.
Cozen all honor to thee.
Aiax. I thanke thee Hector,
Thou art to gentle, and too free a man,
I came to kill thee cozen, and beare hence,
A great addition earned in thy death.
Hect. Not Neoptolymus so mirable,
On whose bright crest, fame with her lowdst (O yes)
Cries, this is he, could promise to himselfe,
A thought of added honor, torne from Hector.
Aene. There is expectance heere from both the sides.
What further you will do.
Hect. Weele answer it,
The issue is embracement, Aiax farewell.
Aiax. If I might in entreaties finde successe,
As seld I have the chance, I would desire,
My famous cosin to our Grecian tents.
Diom. Tis Agamemnons wish, and great Achilles
Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector.
Hect. Aeneas call my brother Troylus to me.
And signifie this loving enterview
To the expectors of our Troyan part,
Desire them home. Give me thy hand my Cozen.
I will go eate with thee, and see your Knights.
Aiax. Great Agamemnon comes to meete us heere.
Hect. The worthiest of them, tell me name by name:
But for Achilles my owne searching eyes,
Shall finde him by his large and portly size.
Agam. Worthy all armes as welcome as to one,
That would be rid of such an enemy.
From heart of very heart, great Hector welcome.
Hect. I thanke thee most imperious Agamemnon.
Agam. My well- fam'd Lord of Troy, no lesse to you.
Mene. Let me confirme my princely brothers greeting:
You brace of warlike brothers: welcome hether.
Hect. Who must we answer?
Aene. The noble Menelaus.
Hect. O you my Lord, by Mars his gauntlet thankes,
ShaTroQI3vI3v
(Mock not thy affect, the untraded earth)
Your quandom wife sweares still by Venus glove,
Shees well, but bad me not commend her to you.
Men. Name her not now sir, shee's a deadly theame.
Hect. O pardon, I offend.
Nest. I have thou gallant Troyan seene thee oft,
Laboring for destiny, make cruell way,
Through rankes of Greekish youth, and I have seene thee
As hot as Perseus, spurre thy Phrigian steed,
Despising many forfaits and subduments,
When thou hast hung th' advanced sword ith' ayre,
Not letting it decline on the declined,
That I have said to some my standers by,
Loe Jupiter is yonder dealing life.
And I have seene thee pause, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greekes have shrupd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrastling. This have I seene,
But this thy countenance still lockt in steele,
I never saw till now: I knew thy grand- sire,
And once fought with him, he was a soldier good,
But by great Mars the Captaine of us all,
Never like thee: O let an old man embrace thee,
And worthy warriour welcome to our tents.
Aene. Tis the old Nestor.
Hect. Let me embrace thee good old Chronicle,
That hast so long walkt hand in hand with time,
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to claspe thee.
Nest. I would my armes could match thee in contention.
Hect. I would they could.
Nest. Ha? by this white beard Ide fight with thee to morrow.
Well, welcome, welcome, I have seene the time.
Ulis. I wonder now how yonder Citty stands,
When we have here her base and piller by us?
Hect. I know your favour lord Ulisses well,
Ah sir, there's many a Greeke and Troyan dead,
Since first I saw your selfe and Diomed,
In Illion on your Greekish embassie.
Ulis. Sir I foretold you then what would ensue,
ShaTroQI4I4
My prophecie is but halfe his journey yet,
For yonder walls that pertly front your towne,
Yon towers, whose wanton tops do busse the clouds,
Must kisse their owne feete.
Hect. I must not beleeve you.
There they stand yet, and modestly I thinke,
The fall of every Phrigian stone will cost,
A drop of Grecian bloud: the end crownes all,
And that old common arbitrator Time, will one day end it.
Ulis. So to him we leave it.
Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome:
After the Generall, I beseech you next
To feast with me, and see me at my tent.
Achil. I shall forestall thee lord Ulisses thou:
Now Hector I have fed mine eyes on thee,
I have with exact view perusde thee Hector, & quoted joynt by joint.
Hect.> Is this Achilles? Achil. I am Achilles.
Hect. Stand faire I pray thee, let me looke on thee,
Achil. Behold thy fill.
Hect. Nay I have done already.
Hect. O like a booke of sport thov'lt read me ore:
But ther's more in me then thou understandst,
Why doost thou so oppresse me with thine eye.
Achil. Tell me you heavens, in which part of his body
Shall I destroy him: whether there, or there, or there,
That I may give the locall wound a name,
And make distinct the very breach, whereout
Hectors great spirit flew: answer me heavens.
Hect. It would discredit the blest gods, proud man,
To answer such a question: stand againe,
Thinkst thou to catch my life so pleasantly,
As to prenominate in nice coniecture,
Where thou wilt hit me dead.
Achil. I tell thee yea.
Hect. Wert thou an Oracle to tell me so,
Ide not beleeve thee. Hence- forth gard thee well,
ShaTroQI4vI4v
For Ile not kill thee there, nor there, nor there,
But by the forge that stichied Mars his helme.
Ile kill thee every where, yea ore and ore.
You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag,
His insolence drawes folly from my lips,
But ile endevour deeds to match these words,
Or may I never===
Aiax. Do not chafe thee cozen.
And you Achilles, let these threats alone,
Till accident or purpose bring you too't,
You may have every day enough of Hector,
If you have stomack. The generall state I feare,
Can scarce entreate you to be odde with him.
Hect. I pray you let us see you in the field,
We have had pelting warres since you refusd, the Grecians
(cause.
Achil. Doost thou entreate me Hector?
To morow do I meet thee fell as death: to night all friends.
Hect. Thy hand upon that match.
Agam. First all you Peeres of Greece, go to my tent,
There in the full convive we: afterwards
As Hectors leisure, and your bounties shall
Concurre together, severally entreate him
To taste your bounties, let the trumpets blowe,
That this great souldier may his welcome know. Exeunt.
Troy. My Lord Ulisses, tell me I beseech you,
In what place of the field doth Calcas keepe.
Ulis. At Menelaus tent, most princely Troylus:
There Diomed doth feast with him to night,
Who neither lookes upon the heaven nor earth,
But gives all gaze, and bent of amorous view,
On the faire Cresseid.
Troyl. Shall I sweete Lord be bound to you so much,
After we part from Agamemnons tent,
To bring me thether.
But gentle tell me of what honor was
This Cressida in Troy? had she no lover there
That wailes her absence?
ShaTroQK1K1
Tro. O sir to such as bosting shew their skarres,
A mocke is due; will you walke on my Lord,
Shee was beloved my Lord, she is, and doth,
But still sweet love is food for fortunes tooth. Exeunt.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Ach. Ile heate his blood with greekish wine to night,
Which with my Cemitar ile cool to morrow,
Patroclus let us feast him to the hight
Pat.> Here comes Thersites. Enter Thersites.
Ach. How now thou curre of envy.
Thou crusty batch of nature whats the news?
The. Why thou picture of what thou seemest, and Idoll,
Of idiot worshippers heers a letter for thee.
Ach. From whence fragment.
The. Why thou full dish of foole from Troy,
Pat. Who keeps the tent now.
The. The Surgeons box or the pacients wound.
Pat. Well said adversity, and what needs this tricks,
The. Prithee be silent box I profit not by thy talke,
Thou art said to be Achilles male varlot,
Pat. Male varlot you rogue whats that.
The. Why his masculine whore, now the rotten diseases
of the south, the guts griping ruptures: loades a gravell in
the back, lethergies, could palsies, rawe eies, durtrotte[n] livers,
whissing lungs, bladders full of impostume. Sciaticaes lime-kills
ith' palme, incurable bone- ach, and the riveled fee sim-ple
of the tetter, take and take againe such preposterous
discoveries.
Pat. Why thou damnable box of envy thou what meanes
thou to curse thus.
The. Do I curse thee.
Pat. Why no you ruinous but, you horson indistinguish-able
cur, no.
The. No why art thou then exasperate, thou idle imma-terial
skeine of sleive silke, thou greene sacenet flap for a sore
eye, thou toslell of a prodigalls purse- thou ah how the poore
world is pestred with such water flies, diminitives of nature.
ShaTroQK1vK1v
Pat.> Out gall. Ther. Finch egge.
Achil. My sweet Patroclus I am thwarted quite,
From my great purpose into morrowes battell,
Here is a letter from Queene Hecuba;
A token from her daughter my faire love
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keepe:
An oth that I have sworne: I wil not breake it,
Fall Greekes, fayle fame, honour or go or stay,
My maior vow lies here; this ile obay,
Come, come, Thersites help to trim my tent?
This night in banquetting must al be spent, away Patroclus.
Ther. With to much bloud, and to little braine, these two
may run mad, but if with to much braine and to little bloud
they do ile be a curer of mad- men, her's Agamemnon, an ho-nest
fellow inough, and one that loves quailes, but hee has
not so much braine as eare- wax, and the goodly transfor-mation
of Jupiter there, his be the Bull, the primitive statue,
and oblique memorial of cuck-olds, a thrifty shooing- horne
in a chaine at his bare legge, to what forme but that hee is,
should wit larded with malice, and malice faced with witte,
turne him to: to an Asse, were nothing hee is both Asse and
Oxe, to an Oxe were nothing, her's both Oxe and Asse, to be
a day, a Moyle, a Cat, a Fichooke, a Tode, a Lezard, an Oule,
a Puttock, or a Herring without a rowe. I would not care,
but to bee Menelaus I would conspire against desteny, aske
me what I would be, if I were not Thersites, for I care not to
be the Louse of a Lazar, so I were not Menelaus=== hey- day
sprites and fires.
Enter Agam: Ulisses, Nest: and Diomed with lights.
Aga. We go wrong we goe wrong.
Aiax. No, yonder tis there where we see the lights.
Hect.> I trouble you. Aiax. No not a whit:
Ulis. Here comes himselfe to guide you.
Achil. Welcome brave Hector, welcome Princes all.
Aga. So now faire Prince of Troy, I bid God night,
Aiax commands the guard to tend on you.
Hect. Thanks and good night to the Greekes generall.
Mene. Good night my Lord.
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Hect. Good night sweet Lord Menelaus.
Ther. Sweet draught, sweet quoth a, sweet sinke, sweet sure.
Achil. Good night and welcome both to those that go or
tarry. Aga.> Good night. Exeunt Agam: Menelaus.
Achil. Old Nestor tarries, and you to Diomed.
Keepe Hector company an houre or two.
Dio. I cannot Lord, I have important businesse,
The tide whereof is now, good night great Hector.
Hect. Give me your hand.
Ulis. Follow his torch, he goes to Calcas tent, ile keepe you
company. Troy. Sweet sir you honor me?
Hect. And so good night.
Achil.> Come, come, enter my tent. Exeunt.
Ther. That same Diomeds a false hearted roague, a most un-iust
knave, I will no more trust him when hee leeres, then I
will a serpent when hee hisses, hee will spend his mouth and
promise like brabler the hound, but when he performes, As-tronomers
foretell it, it is prodigious, there will come some
change, the Sonne borrowes of the Moone when Diomed
keepes his word, I will rather leave to see Hector then not
to dog him, they say hee keepes a Troyan drab, and uses the
traytor Calcas tent. Ile after === nothing but letchery all in-continent
varlots. Enter Diomed.
Dio.> What are you up here ho? speake? Chal. Who calls?
Dio. Diomed, Chalcas I thinke wher's your daughter?
Cal. She comes to you.
Ulis. Stand, where the torch may not discover us.
Troy.> Cressid comes forth to him. Enter Cressid.
Dio. How now my charge.
Cres. Now my sweet gardian, harke a word with you.
Troy. Yea so familiar?
Ulis. Shee will sing any man at first sight.
Ther. And any man may sing her, if hee can take her Cliff,
she's noted. Dio. Will you remember?
Cal. Remember yes:
Dio: Nay but do then and let your minde be coupled with
(your words.
Troy.> What shall she remember. Ulis. List?
Cres. Sweet hony Greeke tempt me no more to folly.
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Ther:> Roguery. Dio. Nay then:
Crese: Ile tell you what.
Dio: Fo, fo, come tell a pin you are forsworne.
Cres: In faith I cannot, what would you have me do?
Ther: A jugling tricke to be secretly open,
Dio: What did you sweare you would bestow on me?
Cres: I prethee do not hold me to mine oath,
Bid me do any thing but that sweete Greeke.
Dio: Good night.
Troy: Hold patience.
Ulis:> How now Troyan. Cres. Diomed.
Dio. No, no, good night Ile be your foole no more.
Troy: Thy better must.
Cres: Harke a word in your eare.
Troy: O plague and madnesse!
Ulis: You are moved Prince, let us depart I pray
Least your displeasure should inlarge it selfe
To wrathfull tearmes, this place is dangerous:
The time right deadly, I beseech you goe.
Troy: Behold I pray you.
Ulis: Now good my Lord go off.
You flow to great distruction, come my Lord.
Troy: I prethee stay.
Ulis: You have not patience, come.
Troy: I pray you stay; by hell, and all hells torments,
I will not speake a word.
Dio: And so good night.
Cres: Nay but you part in anger.
Troy: Doth that grieve thee, O withered truth.
Ulis: How now my Lord?
Troy: By Jove I will be patient.
Cres:> Gardian? why Greeke? Dio: Fo fo you palter.
Cres. In faith I doe not, come hether once again.
Ulis: You shake my Lord at something, will you goe: you
wil break out.
Troy.> She stroakes his cheeke. Ulis. Come, come.
Troy. Nay stay, by Jove I will not speake a word.
There is betweene my will and all offences
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A guard of patience, stay a little while.
Ther: How the divell Luxury with his fat rumpe and po-tato
finger, tickles together; frye lechery frye.
Dio: Will you then?
Cres: In faith I will lo, never trust me else.
Dio: Give me some token for the surety of it.
Cres:> Ile fetch you one. Exit.
Ulis: You have sworne patience:
Troy: Feare me not my Lord.
I will not be my selfe, nor have cognition
Of what I feele, I am all patience: Enter Cress.
Ther: Now the pledge, now, now, now.
Cres: Heere Diomed keepe this sleeve.
Troy: O beauty where is thy faith!
Ulis: My Lord.
Troy: You looke upon that sleeve behold it well,
Hee love'd me (oh false wench) giv't me againe:
Dio: Whose wast?
Cres: It is no matter now I ha't againe.
I will not meete with you to morrow night:
I prethee Diomed visite me no more.
Ther: Now shee sharpens, well said Whetstone.
Dio: I shall have it.
Cres:> What this? Dio: I that.
Cres: O all you gods; O pretty pretty pledge!
Thy maister now lyes thinking on his bed
Of thee and mee, and sighes, and takes my glove,
And gives memoriall dainty kisses to it, as I kisse thee.
Dio: Nay do not snatch it from me.
Cres: He that takes that doth take my heart withall.
Dio: I had your heart before, this followes it.
Troy: I did sweare patience.
You shall not have it Diomed, faith you shall not,
Ile give you something else.
Dio: I will have this, whose was it?
Cres: It is no matter.
Dio. Come tell me whose it was?
Cres. Twas on's that lov'd me better then you will,
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But now you have it take it.
Dio: Whose was it?
Cres: And by all Dianas wayting women yond
And by her selfe I will not tell you whose.
Dio: To morrow will I weare it on my Helme,
And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.
Troy: Wert thou the divell, and wor'st it on thy horne,
It should be challengd.
Cres: Well, well, tis done, tis past: and yet it is not.
I will not keepe my word.
Dio: Why then farewell, thou never shalt mocke Diomed
againe.
Cres: You shall not goe: one cannot speake a word but it
straight starts you.
Dio: I doe not like this fooling.
Ther: Nor I by Pluto; but that that likes not you, pleases
me best.
Dio: What shall I come? the houre===
Cres: I come; O Jove: do come, I shall be plagued.
Dio: Farewell till then.
Cres: Good night, I prethee come:
Troylus farewell, one eye yet lookes on thee,
But with my heart the other eye doth see,
Ah poore our sex, this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind,
What error leads must erre: O then conclude,
=Mindes swayd by eyes are full of turpitude. Exit.
Ther: A proofe of strength, she could not publish more,
Unlesse shee said my mind is now turn'd whore.
Ulis:> All's done my Lord. Troy: It is.
Ulis: Why stay we then?
Troy: To make a recordation to my soule
Of every sillable that here was spoke:
But if I tell how these two did Court,
Shall I not lye in publishing a truth,
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart.
An esperance so obstinatly strong,
That doth invert th' attest of eyes and eares,
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As if those organs were deceptions functions,
Created onely to calumniate. Was Cresseid heere?
Ulis. I cannot coniure Troyan.
Troyl. Shee was not sure.
Ulis. Most sure she was.
Troy. Why my negation hath no taste of madnesse.
Ulis. Nor mine my Lord: Cresseid was heere but now.
Troyl. Let it not be beleev'd for woman- hood.
Thinke we had mothers, do not give advantage
To stubborne Critiques apt without a theme
For depravation, to square the generall sex
By Cresseids rule. Rather thinke this not Cresseid.
Uli. What hath she done Prince that ca[n] spoile our mothers.
Troyl. Nothing at all, unlesse that this were she.
Ther. Will a swagger himselfe out on's owne eyes.
Troyl. This she, no this is Diomeds Cresseida,
If beauty have a soule this is not shee:
If soules guide vowes, if vowes be sanctimonies,
If sanctimony be the gods delight:
If there be rule in unitie it selfe,
This was not shee: O madnesse of discourse,
That cause sets up with and against it selfe,
By- fould authority: where reason can revolt
Without perdition, and losse assume all reason,
Without revolt. This is and is not Cresseid,
Within my soule there doth conduce a sight
Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparat,
Divides more wider then the skie and earth:
And yet the spacious bredth of this division,
Admits no orifex for a point as subtle,
As Ariachna's broken woofe to enter,
Instance, O instance strong as Plutoes gates,
Cresseid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven,
Instance, O instance, strong as heaven it selfe,
The bonds of heaven are slipt, dissolv'd and loosd,
And with another knot finde finger tied,
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love.
The fragments, scraps, the bitts and greazie reliques.
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Of her ore- eaten faith, are given to Diomed.
Ulis. May worthy Troylus be halfe attached
With that which heere his passion doth expresse?
Troy. I Greeke, and that shall be divulged well
In Characters as red as Mars his heart
Inflam'd with Venus: never did young man fancy
With so eternall and so fixt a soule.
Harke Greeke, as much I do Cressid love,
So much by waight, hate I her Diomed:
That sleeve is mine, that heele beare on his Helme:
Were it a Caske compos'd by Vulcans skill
My sword should bite it: Not the dreadfull spout
Which Shipmen do the hurricano call,
Constringd in Masse by the almighty sunne
Shal dizzy with more clamour Neptunes eare, in his discent,
Then shall my prompted sword, falling on Diomed.
Ther: Heele ticle it for his concupie.
Troy: O Cressid, O false Cressid, false, false, false:
Let all untruthes stand by thy stained name,
And theyle seeme glorious.
Ulis: O containe your selfe;
Your passion drawes eares hether. Enter Eneas.
Aene: I have beene seeking you this houre my Lord:
Hector by this is arming him in Troy:
Aiax your guard stayes to conduct you home.
Troy: Have with you Prince: my curteous Lord adiew,
Farewell revoulted faire: and Diomed
Stand fast, and weare a Castle on thy head.
Ulis. Ile bring you to the gates
Troy. Accept distracted thankes.
Exeunt Troyl. Eneas and Ulisses.
Ther. Would I could meete that roague Diomed I would
croke like a Raven, I would bode, I would bode: Patroclus
will give me any thing for the inteligence of this whore: the
Parrot will not do more for an almond then he for a commo-dious
drab: Lechery, lechery, still warres and lechery, nothing
else holds fashion. A burning divell take them. Exit.
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Enter Hector and Andromache.
And. When was my Lord so much ungently temperd,
To stop his eares against admonishment:
Unarme, unarme, and do not fight to day.
Hect. You traine me to offend you, get you in,
By all the everlasting gods Ile go.
And. My dreames will sure proove ominous to the day.
Hect. No more I say.
Enter Cassandra.
Cas. Where is my brother Hector?
And. Here sister, arm'd and bloody in intent,
Consort with me in lowd and deere petition,
Pursue we him on knees: for I have dreamt
Of bloudy turbulence, and this whole night
Hath nothing beene but shapes and formes of slaughter.
Cass. O tis true.
Hect. Ho? bid my trumpet sound.
Cres. No notes of sallie for the heavens sweete brother.
Hect. Begon I say, the gods have heard me sweare.
Cas. The gods are deafe to hotte and peevish vowes,
They are polluted offrings more abhord,
Then spotted livers in the sacrifice.
And. O be perswaded, do not count it holy,
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow,
But vowes to every purpose must not hold:
Unarme sweet Hector.
Hect. Hold you still I say,
Mine honor keepes the weather of my fate::
Life every man holds deere but the deere man,
Holds honor farre more precious deere then life,
Enter Troylus.
How now yong man, meanest thou to fight to day.
And.> Cassandra call my father to perswade. Exit Cassan.
Hect. No faith yong Troylus, doffe thy harnesse youth,
I am to day ith' vaine of chivalrie,,
Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the warre.
Unarme thee go, and doubt thou not brave boy,
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Ile stand to day for thee and me and Troy.
Troyl. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,
Which better fits a Lion then a man.
Hector. What vice is that? good Troylus chide mee
for it.
Troyl. When many times the captive Grecian falls,
Even in the fanne and winde of your faire sword,
You bid them rise and live.
Hect. O tis faire play.
Troyl. Fooles play by heaven Hector.
Hect. How now? how now?
Troyl. For th' love of all the gods
Lets leave the Hermit Pitty with our Mother,
And when we have our armors buckled on,
The venomd vengeance ride upon our swords,
Spur them to ruthfull worke, raine them from ruth.
Hect. Fie savage, fie.
Troy. Hector then 'tis warres.
Hect. Troylus I would not have you fight to day.
Troyl. Who should with- hold me?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars,
Beckning with fierie trunchion my retire,
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,
Their eyes ore- galled with recourse of teares,
Nor you my brother, with your true sword drawne,
Opposd to hinder me, should stop my way,
Enter Priam and Cassandra.
Cass. Lay hold upon him, Priam hold him fast,
He is thy crutch: now if thou loose thy stay,
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,
Fall all together.
Priam. Come Hector, come, go back,
Thy wife hath dreamt, thy mother hath had visions,
Cassandra doth foresee, and I my selfe,
Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt,
To tell thee that this day is ominous:
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Therefore come back.
Hec. Aeneas is a field,
And I do stand, engagd to many Greekes,
Even in the faith of valour to appeare,
This morning to them.
Priam. I but thou shalt not goe.
Hec. I must not breake my faith,
You know me dutifull, therefore deere sir,
Let me not shame respect, but give me leave
To take that course by your consent and voice,
Which you do here forbid me royall Priam.
Cass. O Priam yeeld not to him.
And. Do not deere father.
Hec. Andromache I am offended with you,
Upon the love you beare me get you in. Exit Androm.
Troy. This foolish dreaming superstitious girle,
Makes all these bodements.
Cas. O farewell deere Hector.
Looke how thy dy'est looke how thy eye turnes pale.
Looke how thy wounds do bleed at many vents,
Harke how Troy roares, how Hecuba cries out,
How poore Andromache shrils her dolours foorth,
Behold, destruction, frenzie, and amazement,
Like witlesse antiques one another meete,
And all crie Hector, Hectors dead, O Hector.
Troyl. Away, away.
Cas. Farewell, yet soft: Hector I take my leave,
Thou do'st thy selfe and all our Troy deceave?
Hec. You are amaz'd my liege, at her exclaime,
Goe in and cheere the towne,
Weele forth and fight,
Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night.
Priam. Farewell, the gods with safetie stand about thee.
Alarum.
Troyl. They are at it harke, proud Diomed beleeve.
I come to loose my arme, or winne my sleeve.
Enter Pandar.
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Pand. Do you heere my Lord, do you heere.
Troyl. What now?
Pand. Heer's a letter come from yond poore girle.
Troy. Let me read.
Pand. A whorson tisick, a whorson rascally tisick, so
troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this girle, and what
one thing, what another, that I shall leave you one ath's
dayes: and I have a rheume in mine eyes too, and such an
ache in my bones, that unlesse a man were curst I cannot
tell what to thinke on't. What sayes she there?
Troy. Words, words, meere words, no matter fro[m] the heart,
Th' effect doth operate another way.
Go winde together: winde, there turne and change to
My love with words and errors still she feedes,
But edifies another with her deedes. Exeunt.
Enter Thersites: excursions.
Thersi. Now they are clapper- clawing one another: Ile
go looke on, that dissembling abhominable varlet Diomede.
has got that same scurvie dooting foolish knaves sleeve of
Troy there in his helme. I would faine see them meete, that
that same young Troyan asse that loves the whore there,
might send that Greekish whore- masterly villaine with the
sleeve, back to the dissembling luxurious drabbe of a sleeve-lesse
arrant. Ath' tother side, the pollicie of those craftie
swearing raskalls; that stale old Mouse- eaten drye cheese
Nestor: and that same dogge- foxe Ulisses, is not proov'd
worth a Black- berry. They set mee up in pollicie, that
mongrill curre Aiax, against that dogge of as bad a
kinde Achilles. And now is the curre Aiax, prouder then
the curre Achilles, and will not arme to day. Where- upon
the Grecians began to proclaime barbarisme, and pollicie
growes into an ill opinion. Soft here comes sleeve & tother.
Troy. Flye not, for shouldst thou take the river Stix, I
would swim after,
Diomed. Thou doost miscall retire,
I doe not flie, but advantagious care,
With- drew me from the ods of multitude, have at thee?
Ther. Hold thy whore Grecian: now for thy whore Troian,
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Now the sleeve, now the sleeve.
Enter Hector.
Hect. What art Greeke, art thou for Hectors match.
Art thou of bloud and honour.
Ther. No, no, I am a rascall, a scurvy rayling knave, a very
filthy roague.
Hect. I do beleeve thee, live.
Ther. God a mercy, that thou wilt beleeve me, but a plague
breake thy neck === for frighting me: whats become of the
wenching roagues? I thinke they have swallowed one ano-ther.
I would laugh at that miracle === yet in a sort lechery
eates it selfe, ile seeke them. Exit.
Enter Diomed and Servant.
Dio. Goe go, my servant take thou Troylus horse,
Present the faire steed to my Lady Cressid,
Fellow commend my service to her beauty:
Tell her I have chastis'd the amorous Troyan,
And am her knight by proofe. Enter Agamem.
Man. I goe my Lord:
Aga. Renew, renew, the fierce Polidamas,
Hath beate downe Menon: bastard Margarelon,
Hath Doreus prisoner.
And stands Colossus wise waving his beame,
Upon the pashed corses of the Kings:
Epistropus and Cedus, Polixines is slaine,
Amphimacus and Thous deadly hurt,
Patroclus tane or slaine, and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruised, the dreadfull Sagittary,
Appalls our numbers, hast we Diomed,
To re- enforcement or we perish all.
Enter Nestor.
Nest: Go beare Patroclus body to Achilles,
And bid the snail- pac't Aiax arme for shame,
There is a thousand Hectors in the field:
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse,
And there lacks worke, anon he's there a foote
And there they flie or die, like scaling sculls,
Before the belching Whale, then is he yonder:
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And there the strawy Greekes ripe for his edge
Fall downe before him like a mowers swath,
Here, there and every where, he leaves and takes,
Dexterity so obaying appetite,
That what he will he do's and do's so much:
That proofe is call'd impossibility. Enter Ulisses.
Uliss. Oh courage, courage Princes, great Achilles,
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance,
Patroclus wounds have rouz'd his drowzy bloud,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons
That noselesse, handlesse, hackt and chipt come to him.
Crying on Hector, Aiax hath lost a friend,
And foames at mouth, and hee is armde and at it:
Roaring for Troylus, who hath done to day,
Madde and fantastique execution:
Engaging and redeeming of himselfe
With such a carelesse force, and forcelesse care,
As if that lust in very spight of cunning, bad him win all.
Enter Aiax.> Troylus, thou coward Troylus. Exit.
Dio. I there, there?
Nest:> So, so, we draw together. Exit.
Enter Achilles.
Achil. Where is this Hector?
Come, come thou boy- queller shew thy face,
Know what it is to meete Achilles angry
Hector wher's Hector? I will none but Hector. Exit.
Enter Aiax. Troylus thou coward Troylus shew thy head.
Enter Diom. Troylus I say wher's Troylus?
Aiax. What wouldst thou.
Diom. I would correct him.
Aiax. Were I the generall thou shouldst have my office,
Ere that correction? Troylus I say what Troylus.
Enter Troylus.
Troy. Oh traytor Diomed, turne thy false face thou traytor,
And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse.
Dio. Ha art thou there?
Aiax. Ile fight with him alone stand Diomed.
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Diom. He is my prize, I will not looke upon.
Troy. Come both you cogging Greekes have at you both.
Hect. Yea Troylus, O well fought my yongest brother.
Enter Achil: Now do I see thee ha, have at thee Hector.
Hect. Pause if thou wilt.
Achil. I do disdaine thy curtesie proud Troyan,
Be happy that my armes are out of use:
My rest and negligence befriends thee now,
But thou anon shalt here of me againe:
Till when goe seeke thy fortune. Exit.
Hect. Fare thee well.
I would have beene much more a fresher man,
Had I expected thee, how now my brother. Enter Troyl:
Troy. Aiax hath tane Aeneas, shall it be,
No by the flame of yonder glorious heaven
He shall not carry him ile be tane to,
Or bring him off, fate here me what I say:
I wreake not though I end my life to day. Exit.
Enter one in armour.
Hect: Stand, stand thou Greeke, thou art a goodly marke,
No? wilt thou not. I like thy armor well,
Ile frush it and unlock the rivets all:
But ile be maister of it, wilt thou not beast abide,
Why then flie on, ile hunt thee for thy hide. Exit.
Enter Achilles with Myrmidons.
Come here about me you my Myrmidons,
Marke what I say, attend me where I wheele:
Strike not a stroke, but keepe your selves in breth,
And when I have the bloudy Hector found:
Empale him with your weapons round about,
In fellest manner execut your armes
Follow me sirs and my proceedings eye,
It is decreed Hector the great must die. Exit.
Enter Thersi: Mene: Paris.
Ther. The cuck-old and the cuck-old- maker are at it,
now bull, now dogge lowe, Paris lowe, now my double
hen'd spartan, lowe Paris, lowe the bull has the game, ware
hornes ho? Exit Paris and Menelaus.
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Enter Bastard
Bast. Turne slave and fight.
Ther. What art thou?
Bast. A Bastard sonne of Priams.
Thers: I am a bastard too, I love bastards. I am bastard be-got,
bastard instructed, bastard in minde, bastard in valour, in
every thing illigitimate, one beare wil not bite another, and
wherefore should one bastard? take heed, the quarrells
most ominous to us, if the sonne of a whore fight for a
whore, he tempts judgement, farewell bastard.
Bast.> The divell take thee coward. Exit.
Enter Hector.
Hect. Most putrified core so faire without,
Thy goodly armor thus hath cost thy life;
Now is my daies worke done ile take my breth:
Rest sword thou hast thy fill of bloud and death.
Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.
Achil: Looke Hector how the Sunne begins to set.
How ougly night comes breathing at his heeles
Even with the vaile and darkning of the Sunne,
To close the day up, Hectors life is done.
Hect. I am unarm'd forgoe this vantage Greeke.
Achil. Strike fellowes strike, this is the man I seeke,
So Illion fall thou next, come Troy sinke downe,
Here lies thy heart, thy sinnewes and thy bone.
On Myrmydons, and cry you all amaine,
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slaine, Retreat:
Harke a retire upon our Grecian part.
One: The Troyans trumpet sound the like my Lord.
Achil: The dragon wing of night orespreds the earth,
And stickler- like the armies separates.
My halfe supt sword that frankly would have fedde,
Pleas'd with this dainty baite: thus goes to bed:
Come tie his body to my horses taile,
Along the field I will the Troyan traile. Exeunt:
Enter Agam: Aiax, Mene: Nestor, Diom:
and the rest marching.>
Aga. Hark, harke, what is this?
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Nest. Peace drums.
Sould: within. Achilles, Achilles, Hectors slaine Achilles.
Dio. The bruite is Hectors slaine and by Achilles.
Aiax. If it be so yet braglesse let it bee,
Great Hector was as good a man as he.
Aga. March patiently along: let one bee sent,
To pray Achilles see us at our tent:
If in his death the Gods have us befriended.
Great Troy is ours, and our sharpe wars are ended. Exeunt.
Enter Aeneas, Paris, Antenor, Diephobus.
Aene. Stand ho? yet are we masters of the field,
Enter Troylus.
Troy. Never goe home, here starve we out the night,
Hector is slaine.
All. Hector! the gods forbid.
Troy. Hee's dead and at the murtherers horses taile,
In bestly sort dragd through the shamefull field:
Frowne on you heavens, effect your rage with speed,
Sits gods upon your thrones, and smile at Troy.
I say at once, let your breefe plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on.
Aene. My Lord you doe discomfort all the host.
Troy. You understand me not that tell me so,
I do not speake of flight, of feare of death
But dare all immynence that gods and men
Addresse their daungers in. Hector is gone:
Who shall tell Priam so or Hecuba?
Let him that will a scrich- oule aye be call'd,
Goe into Troy and say their Hectors dead,
There is a word will Priam turne to stone,
Make wells and Niobe's of the maides and wives:
Could statues of the youth and in a word,
Scarre Troy out of it selfe, there is no more to say,
Stay yet you proud abhominable tents:
Thus proudly pitcht upon our Phrigian plaines,
Let Tytan rise as earely as he dare,
Ile through, and through you, and thou great siz'd coward,
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates:
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Ile haunt thee like a wicked conscience still.
That mouldeth goblins swift as frienzes thoughts,
Strike a free march, to Troy with comfort goe
Hope of reveng shall hide our inward woe.
Enter Pandarus.
Pan. But here you, here you.
Tro: Hence broker, lacky ignomyny, shame,
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.
Exeunt all but Pandarus.
Pan. A goodly medicine for my aking bones, Oh world,
world === thus is the poore agent despis'd, Oh traitors and
bawds, how earnestly are you set a worke, and how ill re-quited,
why should our endevour bee so lov'd and the per-formance
so loathed, what verse for it? What instance for it?
Let me see,
Full merrily the humble Bee doth sing,
Till he hath lost his hony and his sting.
And being once subdude in armed taile,
Sweet hony, and sweet notes together faile.
Good traiders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloathes,
As many as be here of Pandars hall,
Your eyes halfe out weepe out at Pandars fall.
Or if you cannot weepe yet give some grones,
Though not for me yet for my aking bones:
Brethren and sisters of the hold- ore trade,
Some two monthes hence my will shall here be made.
It should be now, but that my feare is this,
Some gauled goose of Winchester would hisse.
Till then ile sweat and seeke about for eases,
And at that time bequeath you my diseases.
FINIS.