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women Cressids, and all brokers-between Pan-[[So do each lord; and either greet him not, dars say, Amen. Tro. Amen.

Cres. Amen.

Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you at chamber and a bed, which bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death away.

And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here, Bed, chamber, Pandar, to provide this geer! [Exeunt. SCENE III-The Grecian camp. Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, Ajax, Menelaus, and Calchas.

Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have done you,

The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind,
That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove
I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name; expos'd myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes; séquest'ring from me all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
Made tame and most familiar to my nature;
And here, to do you service, am become
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted:
I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
To give me now a little benefit,
Out of those many register'd in promise,
Which, you say, live to come in
Agam. What would'st thou of us, Trojan?

make demand.

my

behalf.

Cal. You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor, Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear. Oft have you (often have you thanks therefore,) Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange, Whom Troy hath still denied: But this Antenor, I know, is such a wrest in their affairs, That their negotiations all must slack, Wanting his manage; and they will almost Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, In change of him: let him be sent, great princes, And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence Shall quite strike off all service I have done, In most accepted pain. Agam. Let Diomedes bear him, And bring us Cressid hither; Calchas shall have What he requests of us.-Good Diomed, Furnish you fairly for this interchange: Withal, bring word-if Hector will to-morrow Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready.

Dio. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden

Which I am proud to bear. [Exe. Dio. and Cal. Enter Achilles and Patroclus, before their tent. Ulyss. Achilles stands i'the entrance of his

tent :

Please it our general to pass strangely2 by him,
As if he were forgot; and, princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him :

I will come last: 'Tis like, he'll question me,

Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.

Achil. What, comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. Agam. What says Achilles? would he aught with us?

Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the general?

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to bend,

To send their smiles before them to Achilles;
To come as humbly, as they us'd to creep
To holy altars.

Achil. What, am I poor of late?
'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too: What the declin'd is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall: for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings, but to the summer;
And not a man, for being simply man,

Hath any honour; but honour for those honours
That are without him, as place, riches, favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit :

Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
The love that lean'd on them, as slippery too,
Do one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:
At ample point all that I did possess,
Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy
Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out
Something not worth in me such rich beholding
As they have often given.
Here is Ulysses;
I'll interrupt his reading.-
How now, Ulysses?

Ulyss.

Now, great Thetis' son?
Achil. What are you reading?
Ulyss.
A strange fellow here
Writes me, That man-how dearly ever parted,3
How much in having, or without, or in,-
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;
As when his virtues shining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.

Achil.
This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is borne here in the face

Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on The bearer knows not, but commends itself

If so,

him:

I have derision med'cinable,

To use between your strangeness and his pride,
Which his own will shall have desire to drink;
It may
do good: pride hath no other glass
To show itself, but pride; for supple knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.
Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along ;-

(1) An instrument for tuning harps, &c.

To others' eyes; nor doth the eye
itself
(That most pure spirit of sense) behold itself,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd
Salutes each other with each other's form.
For speculation turns not to itself,

Till it hath travell'd, and is married there
Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all.
Ulyss. I do not strain at the position,

It is familiar; but at the author's drift:

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Who, in his circumstance,1 expressly proves-
That no man is the lord of any thing
(Though in and of him there be much consisting,)
Till he communicate his parts to others:
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Where they are extended; which, like an arch,
verberates

The present eye praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
And still it might; and yet it may again,
re-if thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent;
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous missions3 'mongst the gods them-
selves,

The voice again; or like a gate of steel
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this:
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.

Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse;
That has he knows not what. Nature, what things

there are,

Most abject in regard, and dear in use!

What things again most dear in the esteem,

And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow,
An act that very chance doth throw upon him,

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Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do,The providence that's in a watchful state,
While some men leave to do!

How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
While others play the idiots in her eyes!
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is fasting in his wantonness!

To see these Grecian lords!-Why, even already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder;
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrinking.

Achil. I do believe it: for they pass'd by me,
As misers do by beggars: neither gave to me
Good word, nor look: What, are my deeds forgot?
Ulyss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:

Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps;
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
There is a mystery (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state;
Which hath an operation more divine,
Than breath, or pen, can give expressure to:
All the commerce that you have had with Troy,
As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord;
And better would it fit Achilles much,
To throw down Hector, than Polyxena:
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
When fame shall in our islands sound her trump;
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,-

Those scraps are good deeds past: which are de- Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;

vour'd

As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done: Perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a trusty mail

In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue: If you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost;—-

Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do in

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But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.
Farewell, my lord: I as your lovers speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.

[Exit.

Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you:
A woman impudent and mannish grown
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this;
They think, my little stomach to the war,
And your great love to me, restrains you thus:
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.

Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
Patr. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honour
by him.

Achil. I see, my reputation is at stake;
My fame is shrewdly gor'd.

Patr.

O, then beware; fly,Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves: Omission to do what is necessary

That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would
Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue

seek

Remuneration for the thing it was;
For beauty, wit,

High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.

Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then when we sit idly in the sun.

Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus:
I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
To invite the Trojan lords after the combat,
To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's
kin,-An appetite that I am sick withal,

One touch of nature makes the whole world
That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,2
Though they are made and moulded of things past;
And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.

(1) Detail of argument.

(2) New-fashioned toys.

's longing,

To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd!

(3) The descent of the deities to combat on ei ther side.

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Enter Thersites.

Ther. A wonder!

Achil. What?

And I myself see not the bottom of it.
[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus.
Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance.

for himself.

Achil. How so?

Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. Achil. How can that be?

T'her. Why, he stalks up and down like a pea

ACT IV.

[Exit.

cock, a stride and a stand: ruminates, like a host-SCENE I-Troy. A street. Enter, at one side,

Eneas and Servant, with a torch; at the other, Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, Diomedes, and others, with torches.

Par. See, ho! who's that there?

Dei.

ess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say--there were wit in this head, an 'twould out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not 'Tis the lord Æneas. show without knocking. The man's undone for ne. Is the prince there in person?— ever; for if Hector break not his neck i'the com-Had I so good occasion to lie long, bat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory. He knows As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business not me: I said, Good-morrow, Ajax; and he re- Should rob my bed-mate of my company. plies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of Dio. That's my mind too.-Good morrow, lord this man, that takes me for the general? He is Æneas. grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

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

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

Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand.
Witness the process of your speech, wherein
You told-how Diomed, a whole week by days,
Did haunt you in the field.

Ene.

Health to you, valiant sir,
During all question3 of the gentle truce:
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance,
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health:
But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,

Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him,-I humbly
desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous
Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to pro-With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

cure safe conduct for his person, of the magnani- ne. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly mous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-hon-With his face backward.-In humane gentleness, oured captain-general of the Grecian army, Aga- Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life,

memnon. Do this.

Patr. Jove bless great Ajax.

Ther. Humph!

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles,

Ther. Ha!

Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dio. We sympathize:-Jove, let Æneas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,

Patr. Who most humbly desires you, to invite A thousand complete courses of the sun!
Hector to his tent!-

Ther. Humph!

Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Aga

memnon.

Ther. Agamemnon?

Patr. Ay, my lord.

Ther. Ha!

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To Calchas' house; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid:
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before us: I constantly do think
(Or, rather, call my thought a certain knowledge,)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night;

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; un-Rouse him, and give him note of our approach, less the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make cat- With the whole quality wherefore: I fear, lings1 on. We shall be much unwelcome.

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

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

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

(1) Lute-strings made of catgut. (2) Intelligent.

Ene.
That I assure you;
Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Cressid borne from Troy.
There is no help;

Par.
The bitter disposition of the time
Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you.
(3) Conversation.

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He merits well to have her, that doth seek her
(Not making any scruple of her soilure,)
With such a hell of pain, and world of charge;
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the taste of her dishonour,)
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends:
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more;
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

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

For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,
A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath,
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.

Par Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:
But we in silence hold this virtue well,-
We'll not commend what we intend to sell.
Here lies our way.

[Exeunt. SCENE II-The same. Court before the house of Pandarus. Enter Troilus and Cressida. Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle

down;

He shall unbolt the gates.

Tro.

Trouble him not; To bed, to bed: Sleep kill those pretty eyes,

And give as soft attachment to thy senses,
As infants' empty of all thought!

Cres.

Tro. Pr'ythee now, to bed. Cres.

Good morrow then.

Are you a-weary of me? Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.

Cres.
Night hath been too brief.
Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights

she stays,

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

You men will never tarry.

Pr'ythee, tarry;—

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Enter Pandarus.

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

I shall have such a life,

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You bring me to do,2 and then you flout me too. Pan. To do what? to do what?-let her say what: what have I brought you to do?

Cres. Come, come; beshrew3 your heart! you'll ne'er be good,

Nor suffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia 4-hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! [Knocking.

Cres. Did I not tell you?-'Would he were knock'd o'the head!

Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see.-
My lord, come you again into my chamber:
You mile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
Tro. Ha, ha!

Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.. [Knocking. How earnestly they knock !-pray you, come in; I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt Troilus and Cressida. Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now? what's the matter?

Enter Æneas.

Ene. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. Pan. Who's there? my lord Æneas? By my troth, I knew you not: what news with you so early? Ene. Is not prince Troilus here?

Pan. Here! what should he do here? Ene. Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny him; It doth import him much, to speak with me.

I'll be sworn :-For my own part, I came in late: Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know,

What should he do here?

Ene. Who-nay, then :

Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are 'ware:
You'll be so true to him, to be false to him:
Do not you know of him, yet go fetch him hither;
Go.

As Pandarus is going out, enter Troilus.
Tro. How now? what's the matter?
Ene. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute
you,

My matter is so rash :5 There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.

Tro.
Is it so concluded?
Ene. By Priam, and the general state of Troy:
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

Tro. How my achievements mock me!

I will go meet them: and, my lord Æneas,
We met by chance; you did not find me here.
Ene. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of na-

ture

Have not more gift in taciturnity.

[Exeunt Troilus and Æneas. Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad.

Pan. How now, how now? how go maiden- A plague upon Antenor: I would, they had broke's

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tenor?

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

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

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

Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity:
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus.-O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it.—I'll go in, and weep;
Pan. Do, do.

cheeks,

Cres. O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him. Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too: O heart!-as the goodly saying is,

o heart, o heavy heart,

Why sigh'st thou without breaking? where he answers again,

Because thou canst not ease thy smart,

By friendship, nor by speaking.
There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast away
nothing, for we may live to have need of such a
verse; we see it, we see it.-How now, lambs?
That the blest gods-as angry with my fancy,
Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity,
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities,-take thee from me.
Cres. Have the gods envy?

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

Cres.

What, and from Troilus too?
Tro. From Troy, and Troilus.
Cres.

Is it possible?

Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents

Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows Even in the birth of our own labouring breath: Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves We two, that with so many thousand sighs Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised Injurious time now, with a robber's haste, With the rude brevity and discharge of one. Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. With distinct breath and consign'd2 kisses to them, As many farewells as be stars in heaven, [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The same. Before Pandarus' And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, He fumbles up into a loose adieu; house. Enter Paris, Troilus, Æneas, Deipho-Distasted with the salt of broken3 tears. bus, Antenor, and Diomedes.

Par. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon :-
:-Good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And haste her to the purpose.

Tro.

Ene. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready?
Tro. Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the
Genius so

Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die.-
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind,
Walk in to her house; or my heart will be blown up by the root!

I'll bring her to the Grecian presently:
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there offering to it his own heart. [Exit.
Par. I know what 'tis to love;

And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help!--
Please you, walk in, my lords.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The same. A room in Pandarus'
house. Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
Cres. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong

[Exit Pandarus.

Cres. I must then to the Greeks?
Tro.

Cres. A woful Cressid 'mongst the
When shall we see again?

No remedy. merry Greeks?

Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of

heart,

Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem1 is this?

Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us :

I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
For I will throw my glove to death himself,
That there's no maculations in thy heart:

As that which causeth it: How can I moderate it? But be thou true, say I, to fashion in

If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying dross:
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter Troilus.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes.-Ah, sweet ducks!

(1) Sense or feeling of relationship. (2) Sealed.

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