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In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf'd,
Servant to Troilus.
Servant to Paris.
Servant to Diomedes.
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
Act V. Scene 3.
HELEN, Wife to Menelaus.
ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector.
CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess. CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas.
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.
Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are;
SCENE I.-Troy. Before Priam's Palace.
Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He, that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet in the word-hereafter, the kneading, the making of the
cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay,
Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,-
Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
Tro. I was about to tell thee,-When my heart,
Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's, (well, go to,) there were no more comparison between the women,-But, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her,But I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit; but
Tro. O, Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,-
As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;
Pan. I speak no more than truth.
Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.
Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus? Pan. I have had my labour for my travel: illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour. [with me? Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not, an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me.
Tro. Say I, she is not fair?
Pan, I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in the
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Troilus, by Menelaus.
Come, go we then together. [Exeunt.
Queen Hecuba, and Helen.
Up to the eastern tower,
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;
Good; And what of him?
Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs.
Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man, into whom nature hath so crowded humours, that his valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue, that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, but he carries some stain of it: He is melancholy without cause, and merry against the hair: He hath the joints of every thing; but every thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.
that makes me
Cres. But how should this man, smile, make Hector angry?
Alex. They say, he yesterday coped Hector in the battle, and struck him down; the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.
Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Alex. As may be in the world, lady.
Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid: What do
Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there is Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus; I can tell them that Cres. What, is he angry too?
Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.
Cres. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison. Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man, if you see him?
Cres. Ay; if ever I saw him before, and knew him. Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.
Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector. [degrees. Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some Cres. "Tis just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he
Cres. So he is.
Pan. 'Condition, I had gone bare-foot to Cres. He is not Hector.
Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself.-'Would 'a were himself! Well, the gods are above; Time must friend, or end: Well, Troilus, well,-I would, my heart were in her body!-No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.
Cres. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven? Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think, bis smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.
Cres. O, he smiles valiantly.
Pan. Does he not?
Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter? Pan. But, to prove to you, that Heleu loves him; -she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin,
Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.
Pan. Why, go to then :-But to prove to you, that Helen loves Troilus,
Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so.
Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.
Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i'the shell.
Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin;-Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess.
Cres. Without the rack.
Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.
Cres. This is her question.
Pan. That's true; make no question of that. One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white: That white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons. Jupiter! quoth she, which of these hairs is Paris my husband? The forked one, quoth be; pluck it out, and give it him. But, there was such laughing! and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the rest so laugh'd, that it pass'd.
Cres. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by. [think on't. Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; Cres. So I do.
Pan. I'll be sworn, 'tis true; he will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April.
Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May. (A retreat sounded.) Pan. Hark, they are coming from the field: Shall we stand up here, and see them, as they pass towards Ilium? good niece, do; sweet niece Cressida.
Cres. At your pleasure.
Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may see most bravely: I'll tell you them all by their names, as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest.
ENEAS passes over the Stage.
Cres. Speak not so loud.
Pan. That's Eneas; Is not that a brave man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you; But mark Troilus; you shall see anon. Cres. Who's that?
ANTENOR passes over.
Pan. That's Antenor; he has a shrewd wit, I can tell you; and he's a man good enough: he's one o'the soundest judgments in Troy, whosoever, and a proper man of person:-When comes Troilus? I'll shew you Troilus anon; if he see me, you
shall see him nod at me.
Cres. Will he give you the nod?
Pan. You shall see.
Cres. If he do, the rich shall have more.
HECTOR passes over.
Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; There's a fellow!-Go thy way, Hector;-There's a brave man, niece.-O brave Hector!-Look, how he looks! there's a countenance: Is't not a brave man!
PARIS passes over.
Pan. Swords? any thing, he cares not: an the devil come to him, it's all one: By god's lid, it does one's heart good:-Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris: look ye youder, niece; Is't not a gallant man too, is't not?-Why, this is brave now. -Who said, he came hurt home to-day? he's not hurt: why, this will do Helen's heart good now. Ha! 'would I could see Troilus now!-you shall see Troilus anon.
Cres. Who's that?
Cres. O, a brave man!
Pan. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart gooding, Look you what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do you see? look you there! There's no jesting: there's laying on; take't off who will, as they say there be hacks!
Čres. Be those with swords?
HELENUS passes over.
Pan. That's Helenus,-I marvel, where Troilus is:-That's Helenus;--I think he went not forth to-day :-That's Helenus.
Cres. Can Helenus fight, uncle? Pan. Helenus? no;-yes, he'll fight indifferent well:-I marvel, where Troilus is!-Hark; do you not hear the people cry, Troilus?-Helenus is a priest.
Cres. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus: 'Tis Troilus! there's a mau, niece! - Hem!-Brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry.
Cres. Peace, for shame, peace!
Pan. Mark him; note him;-O brave Troilus! -look well upon him, niece; look you, how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than Hector's; And how he looks, and how he goes!— O admirable youth! he ne'er saw three-and-twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way; had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris?-Paris
is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot.
Forces pass over the Stage. Cres. Here come more.
Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die i'the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone; crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than Agamemnon and all Greece.
Cres. There is among the Greeks, Achilles; a better man than Troilus.
Pan. Achilles? a drayman, a porter, a very
Cres. Well, well.
Pan. Well, well?-Why, have you any discretion? have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that
season a man?
Cres. Ay, a minced man; and then to be baked with no date in the pie,-for then the man's date is out.
Pan. You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you lie. Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon
my wit, to defend my wiles; and upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these: and at all these wards I lie, at a thousand watches.
Pan. Say one of your watches.
Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the chiefest of them too: if I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hidand then it is past watching.
Pan. You are such another!
Enter Troilus' Boy.
Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. Pan. Where?
Boy. At your own house; there he unarms him. Pan. Good boy, tell him I come : Exit Boy. I doubt, he be hurt.-Fare ye well, good niece. Cres. Adieu, uncle.
Pan. I'll be with you, niece, by and by.
Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus.
Cres. By the same token-you are a bawd. [Exit Pandarus. Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprise: But more in Troilus thousand fold I see Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be; Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing: That she, belov'd, knows nought, that knows not this,
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is:
But the protractive trials of great Jove,
Nest. With due observance of thy godlike seat,
Upon her patient breast, making their way With those of nobler bulk?
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize, And with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Returns to chiding fortune.
Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,
That matter needless, of importless burden, Divide thy lips; than we are confident, When rank Thersites opes his mastiff jaws, We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.
Ulyss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, But for these instances.
And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets
So doubly seconded with will and power,
The specialty of rule bath been neglected:
And this neglection of degree it is,
Agam. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, What is the remedy?
Ulyss. The great Achilles,-whom opinion crowns The sinew and the forehand of our host,Having his ear full of his airy fame, Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent Lies mocking our designs: With him, Patroclus, Upon a lazy bed, the live-long day Breaks scurril jests;
And with ridiculous and aukward action
He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,
That's done;-as near as the extremest ends
And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age
Nest. And in the imitation of these twain (Whom, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns With an imperial voice,) many are infect. Ajax is grown self-will'd; and bears his head