The History of Troilus and Cressida

ACT III. SCENE 3. The Greek camp

Flourish. Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, NESTOR, AJAX, MENELAUS, and CALCHAS

  CALCHAS. Now, Princes, for the service I have done,    Th' 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 come,    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, sequest'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 regist'red in promise,    Which you say live to come in my behalf.  AGAMEMNON. What wouldst thou of us, Troyan? Make demand.  CALCHAS. You have a Troyan 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.  AGAMEMNON. 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.  DIOMEDES. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden    Which I am proud to bear.Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHASACHILLES and PATROCLUS stand in their tent  ULYSSES. Achilles stands i' th' entrance of his tent.    Please it our general pass strangely 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    Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on him?    If so, 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.  AGAMEMNON. We'll execute your purpose, and put on    A form of strangeness as we pass along.    So do each lord; and either greet him not,    Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more    Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.  ACHILLES. What comes the general to speak with me?    You know my mind. I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.  AGAMEMNON. What says Achilles? Would he aught with us?  NESTOR. Would you, my lord, aught with the general?  ACHILLES. No.  NESTOR. Nothing, my lord.  AGAMEMNON. The better.Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR  ACHILLES. Good day, good day.  MENELAUS. How do you? How do you?Exit  ACHILLES. What, does the cuckold scorn me?  AJAX. How now, Patroclus?  ACHILLES. Good morrow, Ajax.  AJAX. Ha?  ACHILLES. Good morrow.  AJAX. Ay, and good next day too.Exit  ACHILLES. What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?  PATROCLUS. They pass 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 altars.  ACHILLES. What, am I poor of late?    'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n 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, and 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,    Doth one pluck down another, and together    Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:    Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy    At ample point all that I did possess    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!  ULYSSES. Now, great Thetis' son!  ACHILLES. What are you reading?  ULYSSES. A strange fellow here    Writes me that man-how dearly ever parted,    How much in having, or without or in-    Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,    Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;    As when his virtues shining upon others    Heat them, and they retort that heat again    To the first giver.  ACHILLES. This is not strange, Ulysses.    The beauty that is borne here in the face    The bearer knows not, but commends itself    To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself-    That most pure spirit of sense-behold itself,    Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed    Salutes each other with each other's form;    For speculation turns not to itself    Till it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd there    Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all.  ULYSSES. I do not strain at the position-    It is familiar-but at the author's drift;    Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves    That no man is the lord of anything,    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 formed in th' applause    Where th' are extended; who, like an arch, reverb'rate    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    Th' 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-    Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do,    While some men leave to do!    How some men creep in skittish Fortune's-hall,    Whiles 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.  ACHILLES. 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?  ULYSSES. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,    Wherein he puts alms 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 soon    As done. Perseverance, dear my lord,    Keeps honour bright. To have done is to hang    Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail    In monumental mock'ry. 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 ent'red tide they all rush by    And leave you hindmost;    Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,    Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,    O'er-run and trampled on. Then what they do in present,    Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours;    For Time is like a fashionable host,    That slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand;    And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,    Grasps in the corner. The 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.    One touch of nature makes the whole world kin-    That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,    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.    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 stirs not. The cry went once on thee,    And still it might, and yet it may again,    If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive    And case thy reputation in thy tent,    Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late    Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,    And drave great Mars to faction.  ACHILLES. Of this my privacy    I have strong reasons.  ULYSSES. But 'gainst your privacy    The reasons are more potent and heroical.    'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love    With one of Priam's daughters.  ACHILLES. Ha! known!  ULYSSES. Is that a wonder?    The providence that's in a watchful state    Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;    Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps;    Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods,    Do 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 island sound her trump,    And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing    'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;    But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.'    Farewell, my lord. I as your lover speak.    The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.

Exit

  PATROCLUS. 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 airy air.  ACHILLES. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?  PATROCLUS. Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.  ACHILLES. I see my reputation is at stake;    My fame is shrewdly gor'd.  PATROCLUS. O, then, beware:    Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves;    Omission to do what is necessary    Seals a commission to a blank of danger;    And danger, like an ague, subtly taints    Even then when they sit idly in the sun.  ACHILLES. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus.    I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him    T' invite the Troyan lords, after the combat,    To see us here unarm'd. I have a woman's longing,    An appetite that I am sick withal,    To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;    To talk with him, and to behold his visage,    Even to my full of view.

Enter THERSITES

    A labour sav'd!  THERSITES. A wonder!  ACHILLES. What?  THERSITES. Ajax goes up and down the field asking for himself.  ACHILLES. How so?  THERSITES. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector, and isso    prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he ravesin    saying nothing.  ACHILLES. How can that be?  THERSITES. Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock-a strideand a    stand; ruminaies like an hostess that hath no arithmetic buther    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 himas    fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. Theman's    undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' th'combat,    he'll break't himself in vainglory. He knows not me. I said'Good    morrow, Ajax'; and he replies 'Thanks, Agamemnon.' What thinkyou    of this man that takes me for the general? He's grown a veryland    fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! A man may    wear it on both sides, like leather jerkin.  ACHILLES. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.  THERSITES. Who, I? Why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not    answering. Speaking is for beggars: he wears his tongue in's    arms. I will put on his presence. Let Patroclus make hisdemands    to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.  ACHILLES. To him, Patroclus. Tell him I humbly desire thevaliant    Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my    tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person of the    magnanimous and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honour'd    Captain General of the Grecian army, et cetera, Agamemnon. Do    this.  PATROCLUS. Jove bless great Ajax!  THERSITES. Hum!  PATROCLUS. I come from the worthy Achilles-  THERSITES. Ha!  PATROCLUS. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his    tent-  THERSITES. Hum!  PATROCLUS. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.  THERSITES. Agamemnon!  PATROCLUS. Ay, my lord.  THERSITES. Ha!  PATROCLUS. What you say to't?  THERSITES. God buy you, with all my heart.  PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir.  THERSITES. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven of the clockit    will go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me erehe    has me.  PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir.  THERSITES. Fare ye well, with all my heart.  ACHILLES. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?  THERSITES. No, but he's out a tune thus. What music will be inhim    when Hector has knock'd out his brains I know not; but, I amsure,    none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to makecatlings    on.  ACHILLES. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.  THERSITES. Let me carry another to his horse; for that's themore    capable creature.  ACHILLES. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;    And I myself see not the bottom of it.Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS  THERSITES. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again,that I    might water an ass at it. I had rather be a tick in a sheepthan    such a valiant ignorance.

Exit

ACT IV. SCENE 1. Troy. A street

Enter, at one side, AENEAS, and servant with a torch; at another, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES the Grecian, and others, with torches

  PARIS. See, ho! Who is that there?  DEIPHOBUS. It is the Lord Aeneas.  AENEAS. Is the Prince there in person?    Had I so good occasion to lie long    As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business    Should rob my bed-mate of my company.  DIOMEDES. That's my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Aeneas.  PARIS. A valiant Greek, Aeneas – 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.  AENEAS. Health to you, valiant sir,    During all question of the gentle truce;    But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance    As heart can think or courage execute.  DIOMEDES. The one and other Diomed embraces.    Our bloods are now in calm; and so long health!    But when contention and occasion meet,    By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life    With all my force, pursuit, and policy.  AENEAS. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly    With his face backward. In humane gentleness,    Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life,    Welcome indeed! By Venus' hand I swear    No man alive can love in such a sort    The thing he means to kill, more excellently.  DIOMEDES. We sympathise. Jove let Aeneas live,    If to my sword his fate be not the glory,    A thousand complete courses of the sun!    But in mine emulous honour let him die    With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow!  AENEAS. We know each other well.  DIOMEDES.We do; and long to know each other worse.  PARIS. This is the most despiteful'st gentle greeting    The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.    What business, lord, so early?  AENEAS. I was sent for to the King; but why, I know not.  PARIS. His purpose meets you: 'twas to bring this Greek    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 believe-    Or rather call my thought a certain knowledge-    My brother Troilus lodges there to-night.    Rouse him and give him note of our approach,    With the whole quality wherefore; I fear    We shall be much unwelcome.  AENEAS. That I assure you:    Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece    Than Cressid borne from Troy.  PARIS. There is no help;    The bitter disposition of the time    Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you.  AENEAS. Good morrow, all. Exit withservant  PARIS. And tell me, noble Diomed-faith, tell me true,    Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship-    Who in your thoughts deserves fair Helen best,    Myself or Menelaus?  DIOMEDES. Both alike:    He merits well to have her that doth seek her,    Not making any scruple of her soilure,    With such a hell of pain and world of charge;    And you as well to keep her that defend her,    Not palating the taste of her dishonour,    With such a costly loss of wealth and friends.    He like a puling cuckold would drink up    The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;    You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins    Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors.    Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more;    But he as he, the heavier for a whore.  PARIS. You are too bitter to your country-woman.  DIOMEDES. 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 Troyan hath been slain; since she could speak,    She hath not given so many good words breath    As for her Greeks and Troyans suff'red death.  PARIS. 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

ACT IV. SCENE 2. Troy. The court of PANDARUS' house

Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA

  TROILUS. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold.  CRESSIDA. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down;    He shall unbolt the gates.  TROILUS. 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!  CRESSIDA. Good morrow, then.  TROILUS. I prithee now, to bed.  CRESSIDA. Are you aweary of me?  TROILUS. 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.  CRESSIDA. Night hath been too brief.  TROILUS. 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.  CRESSIDA. Prithee tarry.    You men will never tarry.    O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off,    And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up.  PANDARUS. [Within] What's all the doors open here?  TROILUS. It is your uncle.

Enter PANDARUS

  CRESSIDA. A pestilence on him! Now will he be mocking.    I shall have such a life!  PANDARUS. How now, how now! How go maidenheads?    Here, you maid! Where's my cousin Cressid?  CRESSIDA. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle.    You bring me to do, and then you flout me too.  PANDARUS. To do what? to do what? Let her say what.    What have I brought you to do?  CRESSIDA. Come, come, beshrew your heart! You'll ne'er be good,    Nor suffer others.  PANDARUS. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia! hast not    slept to-night? Would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? A    bugbear take him!  CRESSIDA. Did not I tell you? Would he were knock'd i' th'head!                                                         [Oneknocks]    Who's that at door? Good uncle, go and see.    My lord, come you again into my chamber.    You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.  TROILUS. Ha! ha!  CRESSIDA. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.   [Knock]    How earnestly they knock! Pray you come in:    I would not for half Troy have you seen here.Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA  PANDARUS. Who's there? What's the matter? Will you beat downthe    door? How now? What's the matter?Enter AENEAS  AENEAS. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.  PANDARUS. Who's there? My lord Aeneas? By my troth,    I knew you not. What news with you so early?  AENEAS. Is not Prince Troilus here?  PANDARUS. Here! What should he do here?  AENEAS. Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him.    It doth import him much to speak with me.  PANDARUS. Is he here, say you? It's more than I know, I'll be    sworn. For my own part, I came in late. What should he dohere?  AENEAS. Who! – nay, then. Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere youare    ware; you'll be so true to him to be false to him. Do not you    know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go.

Re-enter TROILUS

  TROILUS. How now! What's the matter?  AENEAS. 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 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.  TROILUS. Is it so concluded?  AENEAS. By Priam, and the general state of Troy.    They are at hand and ready to effect it.  TROILUS. How my achievements mock me!    I will go meet them; and, my lord Aeneas,    We met by chance; you did not find me here.  AENEAS. Good, good, my lord, the secrets of neighbour Pandar    Have not more gift in taciturnity.Exeunt TROILUS and AENEAS  PANDARUS. Is't possible? No sooner got but lost? The devil take    Antenor! The young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor!I    would they had broke's neck.

Re-enter CRESSIDA

  CRESSIDA. How now! What's the matter? Who was here?  PANDARUS. Ah, ah!  CRESSIDA. Why sigh you so profoundly? Where's my lord? Gone?Tell    me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?  PANDARUS. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above!  CRESSIDA. O the gods! What's the matter?  PANDARUS. Pray thee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne'er beenborn!    I knew thou wouldst be his death! O, poor gentleman! A plague    upon Antenor!  CRESSIDA. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you,    what's the matter?  PANDARUS. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art    chang'd for Antenor; thou must to thy father, and be gonefrom    Troilus. 'Twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannotbear    it.  CRESSIDA. O you immortal gods! I will not go.  PANDARUS. Thou must.  CRESSIDA. 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-  PANDARUS. Do, do.  CRESSIDA. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks,    Crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart,    With sounding 'Troilus.' I will not go from Troy.

Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE 3. Troy. A street before PANDARUS' house

Enter PARIS, TROILUS, AENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES

  PARIS. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd    For 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.  TROILUS. Walk into her house.    I'll bring her to the Grecian presently;    And to his hand when I deliver her,    Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus    A priest, there off'ring to it his own heart.

Exit

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

Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE 4. Troy. PANDARUS' house

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA

  PANDARUS. Be moderate, be moderate.  CRESSIDA. Why tell you me of moderation?    The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,    And violenteth in a sense as strong    As that which causeth it. How can I moderate it?    If I could temporize with my affections    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