Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS
PRIAM. After so many hours, lives, speeches, spent,Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks:'Deliver Helen, and all damage else-As honour, loss of time, travail, expense,Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'dIn hot digestion of this cormorant war-Shall be struck off.' Hector, what say you to't?HECTOR. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I,As far as toucheth my particular,Yet, dread Priam,There is no lady of more softer bowels,More spongy to suck in the sense of fear,More ready to cry out 'Who knows what follows?'Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety,Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'dThe beacon of the wise, the tent that searchesTo th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen go.Since the first sword was drawn about this question,Every tithe soul 'mongst many thousand dismesHath been as dear as Helen-I mean, of ours.If we have lost so many tenths of oursTo guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us,Had it our name, the value of one ten,What merit's in that reason which deniesThe yielding of her up?TROILUS. Fie, fie, my brother!Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,So great as our dread father's, in a scaleOf common ounces? Will you with counters sumThe past-proportion of his infinite,And buckle in a waist most fathomlessWith spans and inches so diminutiveAs fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame!HELENUS. No marvel though you bite so sharp at reasons,You are so empty of them. Should not our fatherBear the great sway of his affairs with reasons,Because your speech hath none that tells him so?TROILUS. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest;You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons:You know an enemy intends you harm;You know a sword employ'd is perilous,And reason flies the object of all harm.Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholdsA Grecian and his sword, if he do setThe very wings of reason to his heelsAnd fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,Or like a star disorb'd? Nay, if we talk of reason,Let's shut our gates and sleep. Manhood and honourShould have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughtsWith this cramm'd reason. Reason and respectMake livers pale and lustihood deject.HECTOR. Brother, she is not worth what she doth, costThe keeping.TROILUS. What's aught but as 'tis valued?HECTOR. But value dwells not in particular will:It holds his estimate and dignityAs well wherein 'tis precious of itselfAs in the prizer. 'Tis mad idolatryTo make the service greater than the god-IAnd the will dotes that is attributiveTo what infectiously itself affects,Without some image of th' affected merit.TROILUS. I take to-day a wife, and my electionIs led on in the conduct of my will;My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shoresOf will and judgment: how may I avoid,Although my will distaste what it elected,The wife I chose? There can be no evasionTo blench from this and to stand firm by honour.We turn not back the silks upon the merchantWhen we have soil'd them; nor the remainder viandsWe do not throw in unrespective sieve,Because we now are full. It was thought meetParis should do some vengeance on the Greeks;Your breath with full consent benied his sails;The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce,And did him service. He touch'd the ports desir'd;And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captiveHe brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshnessWrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning.Why keep we her? The Grecians keep our aunt.Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a pearlWhose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships,And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants.If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went-As you must needs, for you all cried 'Go, go'-If you'll confess he brought home worthy prize-As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands,And cried 'Inestimable!' -why do you nowThe issue of your proper wisdoms rate,And do a deed that never fortune did-Beggar the estimation which you priz'dRicher than sea and land? O theft most base,That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep!But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol'nThat in their country did them that disgraceWe fear to warrant in our native place!CASSANDRA. [Within] Cry, Troyans, cry.PRIAM. What noise, what shriek is this?TROILUS. 'Tis our mad sister; I do know her voice.CASSANDRA. [Within] Cry, Troyans.HECTOR. It is Cassandra.
Enter CASSANDRA, raving
CASSANDRA. Cry, Troyans, cry. Lend me ten thousand eyes,And I will fill them with prophetic tears.HECTOR. Peace, sister, peace.CASSANDRA. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld,Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,Add to my clamours. Let us pay betimesA moiety of that mass of moan to come.Cry, Troyans, cry. Practise your eyes with tears.Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand;Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all.Cry, Troyans, cry, A Helen and a woe!Cry, cry. Troy burns, or else let Helen go.ExitHECTOR. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strainsOf divination in our sister workSome touches of remorse, or is your bloodSo madly hot that no discourse of reason,Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,Can qualify the same?TROILUS. Why, brother Hector,We may not think the justness of each actSuch and no other than event doth form it;Nor once deject the courage of our mindsBecause Cassandra's mad. Her brain-sick rapturesCannot distaste the goodness of a quarrelWhich hath our several honours all engag'dTo make it gracious. For my private part,I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons;And Jove forbid there should be done amongst usSuch things as might offend the weakest spleenTo fight for and maintain.PARIS. Else might the world convince of levityAs well my undertakings as your counsels;But I attest the gods, your full consentGave wings to my propension, and cut ofAll fears attending on so dire a project.For what, alas, can these my single arms?What propugnation is in one man's valourTo stand the push and enmity of thoseThis quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest,Were I alone to pass the difficulties,And had as ample power as I have will,Paris should ne'er retract what he hath doneNor faint in the pursuit.PRIAM. Paris, you speakLike one besotted on your sweet delights.You have the honey still, but these the gall;So to be valiant is no praise at all.PARIS. Sir, I propose not merely to myselfThe pleasures such a beauty brings with it;But I would have the soil of her fair rapeWip'd off in honourable keeping her.What treason were it to the ransack'd queen,Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,Now to deliver her possession upOn terms of base compulsion! Can it beThat so degenerate a strain as thisShould once set footing in your generous bosoms?There's not the meanest spirit on our partyWithout a heart to dare or sword to drawWhen Helen is defended; nor none so nobleWhose life were ill bestow'd or death unfam'dWhere Helen is the subject. Then, I say,Well may we fight for her whom we know wellThe world's large spaces cannot parallel.HECTOR. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well;And on the cause and question now in handHave gloz'd, but superficially; not muchUnlike young men, whom Aristode thoughtUnfit to hear moral philosophy.The reasons you allege do more conduceTo the hot passion of distemp'red bloodThan to make up a free determination'Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revengeHave ears more deaf than adders to the voiceOf any true decision. Nature cravesAll dues be rend'red to their owners. Now,What nearer debt in all humanityThan wife is to the husband? If this lawOf nature be corrupted through affection;And that great minds, of partial indulgenceTo their benumbed wills, resist the same;There is a law in each well-order'd nationTo curb those raging appetites that areMost disobedient and refractory.If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta's king-As it is known she is-these moral lawsOf nature and of nations speak aloudTo have her back return'd. Thus to persistIn doing wrong extenuates not wrong,But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinionIs this, in way of truth. Yet, ne'er the less,My spritely brethren, I propend to youIn resolution to keep Helen still;For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependenceUpon our joint and several dignities.TROILUS. Why, there you touch'd the life of our design.Were it not glory that we more affectedThan the performance of our heaving spleens,I would not wish a drop of Troyan bloodSpent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,She is a theme of honour and renown,A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds,Whose present courage may beat down our foes,And fame in time to come canonize us;For I presume brave Hector would not loseSo rich advantage of a promis'd gloryAs smiles upon the forehead of this actionFor the wide world's revenue.HECTOR. I am yours,You valiant offspring of great Priamus.I have a roisting challenge sent amongstThe dull and factious nobles of the GreeksWill strike amazement to their drowsy spirits.I was advertis'd their great general slept,Whilst emulation in the army crept.This, I presume, will wake him.Exeunt
Enter THERSITES, solus
THERSITES. How now, Thersites! What, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me, and I rail at him. O worthy satisfaction! Would it were otherwise: that I could beat him, whilst he rail'd at me! 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer! If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods, and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little little less-than-little wit from them that they have! which short-arm'd ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the Neapolitan bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curse depending on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and devil Envy say 'Amen.' What ho! my Lord Achilles!
Enter PATROCLUS
PATROCLUS. Who's there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in andrail.THERSITES. If I could 'a rememb'red a gilt counterfeit, thouwouldst not have slipp'd out of my contemplation; but it is nomatter; thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, follyand ignorance, be thine in great revenue! Heaven bless thee froma tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thydirection till thy death. Then if she that lays thee out saysthou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she nevershrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles?PATROCLUS. What, art thou devout? Wast thou in prayer?THERSITES. Ay, the heavens hear me!PATROCLUS. Amen.
Enter ACHILLES
ACHILLES. Who's there?PATROCLUS. Thersites, my lord.ACHILLES. Where, where? O, where? Art thou come? Why, my cheese, mydigestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table somany meals? Come, what's Agamemnon?THERSITES. Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus, what'sAchilles?PATROCLUS. Thy lord, Thersites. Then tell me, I pray thee, what'sThersites?THERSITES. Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what artthou?PATROCLUS. Thou must tell that knowest.ACHILLES. O, tell, tell,THERSITES. I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commandsAchilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower; andPatroclus is a fool.PATROCLUS. You rascal!THERSITES. Peace, fool! I have not done.ACHILLES. He is a privileg'd man. Proceed, Thersites.THERSITES. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is afool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.ACHILLES. Derive this; come.THERSITES. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles;Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is afool to serve such a fool; and this Patroclus is a fool positive.PATROCLUS. Why am I a fool?THERSITES. Make that demand of the Creator. It suffices me thouart. Look you, who comes here?ACHILLES. Come, Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody. Come in with me,Thersites.ExitTHERSITES. Here is such patchery, such juggling, and such knavery.All the argument is a whore and a cuckold-a good quarrel to drawemulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpigo onthe subject, and war and lechery confound all!Exit
Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES,AJAX, and CALCHAS
AGAMEMNON. Where is Achilles?PATROCLUS. Within his tent; but ill-dispos'd, my lord.AGAMEMNON. Let it be known to him that we are here.He shent our messengers; and we lay byOur appertainings, visiting of him.Let him be told so; lest, perchance, he thinkWe dare not move the question of our placeOr know not what we are.PATROCLUS. I shall say so to him.ExitULYSSES. We saw him at the opening of his tent.He is not sick.AJAX. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart. You may call itmelancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tispride. But why, why? Let him show us a cause. A word, my lord.[Takes AGAMEMNON aside]NESTOR. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?ULYSSES. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.NESTOR.Who, Thersites?ULYSSES. He.NESTOR. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argumentULYSSES. No; you see he is his argument that has his argument-Achilles.NESTOR. All the better; their fraction is more our wish than theirfaction. But it was a strong composure a fool could disunite!ULYSSES. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie.
Re-enter PATROCLUS
Here comes Patroclus.NESTOR. No Achilles with him.ULYSSES. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy; his legsare legs for necessity, not for flexure.PATROCLUS. Achilles bids me say he is much sorryIf any thing more than your sport and pleasureDid move your greatness and this noble stateTo call upon him; he hopes it is no otherBut for your health and your digestion sake,An after-dinner's breath.AGAMEMNON. Hear you, Patroclus.We are too well acquainted with these answers;But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,Cannot outfly our apprehensions.Much attribute he hath, and much the reasonWhy we ascribe it to him. Yet all his virtues,Not virtuously on his own part beheld,Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss;Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell himWe come to speak with him; and you shall not sinIf you do say we think him over-proudAnd under-honest, in self-assumption greaterThan in the note of judgment; and worthier than himselfHere tend the savage strangeness he puts on,Disguise the holy strength of their command,And underwrite in an observing kindHis humorous predominance; yea, watchHis pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as ifThe passage and whole carriage of this actionRode on his tide. Go tell him this, and adThat if he overhold his price so muchWe'll none of him, but let him, like an engineNot portable, lie under this report:Bring action hither; this cannot go to war.A stirring dwarf we do allowance giveBefore a sleeping giant. Tell him so.PATROCLUS. I shall, and bring his answer presently.ExitAGAMEMNON. In second voice we'll not be satisfied;We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter you.Exit ULYSSESAJAX. What is he more than another?AGAMEMNON. No more than what he thinks he is.AJAX. Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a betterman than I am?AGAMEMNON. No question.AJAX. Will you subscribe his thought and say he is?AGAMEMNON. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise,no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.AJAX. Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know notwhat pride is.AGAMEMNON. Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues thefairer. He that is proud eats up himself. Pride is his own glass,his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itselfbut in the deed devours the deed in the praise.
Re-enter ULYSSES
AJAX. I do hate a proud man as I do hate the engend'ring of toads.NESTOR. [Aside] And yet he loves himself: is't not strange?ULYSSES. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.AGAMEMNON. What's his excuse?ULYSSES. He doth rely on none;But carries on the stream of his dispose,Without observance or respect of any,In will peculiar and in self-admission.AGAMEMNON. Why will he not, upon our fair request,Untent his person and share the air with us?ULYSSES. Things small as nothing, for request's sake only,He makes important; possess'd he is with greatness,And speaks not to himself but with a prideThat quarrels at self-breath. Imagin'd worthHolds in his blood such swol'n and hot discourseThat 'twixt his mental and his active partsKingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,And batters down himself. What should I say?He is so plaguy proud that the death tokens of itCry 'No recovery.'AGAMEMNON. Let Ajax go to him.Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent.'Tis said he holds you well; and will be ledAt your request a little from himself.ULYSSES. O Agamemnon, let it not be so!We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makesWhen they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lordThat bastes his arrogance with his own seamAnd never suffers matter of the worldEnter his thoughts, save such as doth revolveAnd ruminate himself-shall he be worshipp'dOf that we hold an idol more than he?No, this thrice-worthy and right valiant lordShall not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd,Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,As amply titled as Achilles is,By going to Achilles.That were to enlard his fat-already pride,And add more coals to Cancer when he burnsWith entertaining great Hyperion.This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid,And say in thunder 'Achilles go to him.'NESTOR. [Aside] O, this is well! He rubs the vein of him.DIOMEDES. [Aside] And how his silence drinks up this applause!AJAX. If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pash him o'er theface.AGAMEMNON. O, no, you shall not go.AJAX. An 'a be proud with me I'll pheeze his pride.Let me go to him.ULYSSES. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.AJAX. A paltry, insolent fellow!NESTOR. [Aside] How he describes himself!AJAX. Can he not be sociable?ULYSSES. [Aside] The raven chides blackness.AJAX. I'll let his humours blood.AGAMEMNON. [Aside] He will be the physician that should be thepatient.AJAX. An all men were a my mind-ULYSSES. [Aside] Wit would be out of fashion.AJAX. 'A should not bear it so, 'a should eat's words first.Shall pride carry it?NESTOR. [Aside] An 'twould, you'd carry half.ULYSSES. [Aside] 'A would have ten shares.AJAX. I will knead him, I'll make him supple.NESTOR. [Aside] He's not yet through warm. Force him with praises;pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.ULYSSES. [To AGAMEMNON] My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.NESTOR. Our noble general, do not do so.DIOMEDES. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.ULYSSES. Why 'tis this naming of him does him harm.Here is a man-but 'tis before his face;I will be silent.NESTOR. Wherefore should you so?He is not emulous, as Achilles is.ULYSSES. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.AJAX. A whoreson dog, that shall palter with us thus!Would he were a Troyan!NESTOR. What a vice were it in Ajax now-ULYSSES. If he were proud.DIOMEDES. Or covetous of praise.ULYSSES. Ay, or surly borne.DIOMEDES. Or strange, or self-affected.ULYSSES. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composurePraise him that gat thee, she that gave thee suck;Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of natureThrice-fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition;But he that disciplin'd thine arms to fight-Let Mars divide eternity in twainAnd give him half; and, for thy vigour,Bull-bearing Milo his addition yieldTo sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confinesThy 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 daysAs green as Ajax' and your brain so temper'd,You should not have the eminence of him,But be as Ajax.AJAX. Shall I call you father?NESTOR. Ay, my good son.DIOMEDES. Be rul'd by him, Lord Ajax.ULYSSES. There is no tarrying here; the hart AchillesKeeps thicket. Please it our great generalTo call together all his state of war;Fresh kings are come to Troy. To-morrowWe must with all our main of power stand fast;And here's a lord-come knights from east to westAnd cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.AGAMEMNON. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep.Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.Exeunt
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Music sounds within. Enter PANDARUS and a SERVANT
PANDARUS. Friend, you-pray you, a word. Do you not follow the youngLord Paris?SERVANT. Ay, sir, when he goes before me.PANDARUS. You depend upon him, I mean?SERVANT. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.PANDARUS. You depend upon a notable gentleman; I must needs praisehim.SERVANT. The lord be praised!PANDARUS. You know me, do you not?SERVANT. Faith, sir, superficially.PANDARUS. Friend, know me better: I am the Lord Pandarus.SERVANT. I hope I shall know your honour better.PANDARUS. I do desire it.SERVANT. You are in the state of grace.PANDARUS. Grace! Not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles.What music is this?SERVANT. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts.PANDARUS. Know you the musicians?SERVANT. Wholly, sir.PANDARUS. Who play they to?SERVANT. To the hearers, sir.PANDARUS. At whose pleasure, friend?SERVANT. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.PANDARUS. Command, I mean, friend.SERVANT. Who shall I command, sir?PANDARUS. Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly,and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play?SERVANT. That's to't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request ofParis my lord, who is there in person; with him the mortal Venus,the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul-PANDARUS. Who, my cousin, Cressida?SERVANT. No, sir, Helen. Could not you find out that by herattributes?PANDARUS. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the LadyCressida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus; Iwill make a complimental assault upon him, for my businessseethes.SERVANT. Sodden business! There's a stew'd phrase indeed!
Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended
PANDARUS. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company!Fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them-especiallyto you, fair queen! Fair thoughts be your fair pillow.HELEN. Dear lord, you are full of fair words.PANDARUS. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince,here is good broken music.PARIS. You have broke it, cousin; and by my life, you shall make itwhole again; you shall piece it out with a piece of yourperformance.HELEN. He is full of harmony.PANDARUS. Truly, lady, no.HELEN. O, sir-PANDARUS. Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude.PARIS. Well said, my lord. Well, you say so in fits.PANDARUS. I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will youvouchsafe me a word?HELEN. Nay, this shall not hedge us out. We'll hear you sing,certainly-PANDARUS. Well sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. But, marry,thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed friend, yourbrother Troilus-HELEN. My Lord Pandarus, honey-sweet lord-PANDARUS. Go to, sweet queen, go to-commends himself mostaffectionately to you-HELEN. You shall not bob us out of our melody. If you do, ourmelancholy upon your head!PANDARUS. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen, i' faith.HELEN. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.PANDARUS. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not,in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. -And, mylord, he desires you that, if the King call for him at supper,you will make his excuse.HELEN. My Lord Pandarus!PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen?PARIS. What exploit's in hand? Where sups he to-night?HELEN. Nay, but, my lord-PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen?-My cousin will fall out withyou.HELEN. You must not know where he sups.PARIS. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida.PANDARUS. No, no, no such matter; you are wide. Come, your disposeris sick.PARIS. Well, I'll make's excuse.PANDARUS. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida?No, your poor disposer's sick.PARIS. I spy.PANDARUS. You spy! What do you spy?-Come, give me an instrument.Now, sweet queen.HELEN. Why, this is kindly done.PANDARUS. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweetqueen.HELEN. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my Lord Paris.PANDARUS. He! No, she'll none of him; they two are twain.HELEN. Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.PANDARUS. Come, come. I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing you asong now.HELEN. Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast afine forehead.PANDARUS. Ay, you may, you may.HELEN. Let thy song be love. This love will undo us all. O Cupid,Cupid, Cupid!PANDARUS. Love! Ay, that it shall, i' faith.PARIS. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.PANDARUS. In good troth, it begins so.[Sings]
Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more!For, oh, love's bowShoots buck and doe;The shaft confoundsNot that it wounds,But tickles still the sore.These lovers cry, O ho, they die!Yet that which seems the wound to killDoth turn O ho! to ha! ha! he!So dying love lives still.O ho! a while, but ha! ha! ha!O ho! groans out for ha! ha! ha!-hey ho!
HELEN. In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the nose.PARIS. He eats nothing but doves, love; and that breeds hot blood,and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hotdeeds, and hot deeds is love.PANDARUS. Is this the generation of love: hot blood, hot thoughts,and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation ofvipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field today?PARIS. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantryof Troy. I would fain have arm'd to-day, but my Nell would nothave it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?HELEN. He hangs the lip at something. You know all, Lord Pandarus.PANDARUS. Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they spendto-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse?PARIS. To a hair.PANDARUS. Farewell, sweet queen.HELEN. Commend me to your niece.PANDARUS. I will, sweet queen. Exit. Sound a retreatPARIS. They're come from the field. Let us to Priam's hallTo greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo youTo help unarm our Hector. His stubborn buckles,With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd,Shall more obey than to the edge of steelOr force of Greekish sinews; you shall do moreThan all the island kings-disarm great Hector.HELEN. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris;Yea, what he shall receive of us in dutyGives us more palm in beauty than we have,Yea, overshines ourself.PARIS. Sweet, above thought I love thee.Exeunt
Enter PANDARUS and TROILUS' BOY, meeting
PANDARUS. How now! Where's thy master? At my cousin Cressida's?BOY. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.
Enter TROILUS
PANDARUS. O, here he comes. How now, how now!TROILUS. Sirrah, walk off. Exit BoyPANDARUS. Have you seen my cousin?TROILUS. No, Pandarus. I stalk about her doorLike a strange soul upon the Stygian banksStaying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,And give me swift transportance to these fieldsWhere I may wallow in the lily bedsPropos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandar,From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,And fly with me to Cressid!PANDARUS. Walk here i' th' orchard, I'll bring her straight.ExitTROILUS. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.Th' imaginary relish is so sweetThat it enchants my sense; what will it beWhen that the wat'ry palate tastes indeedLove's thrice-repured nectar? Death, I fear me;Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine,Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness,For the capacity of my ruder powers.I fear it much; and I do fear besidesThat I shall lose distinction in my joys;As doth a battle, when they charge on heapsThe enemy flying.
Re-enter PANDARUS
PANDARUS. She's making her ready, she'll come straight; you must bewitty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, asif she were fray'd with a sprite. I'll fetch her. It is theprettiest villain; she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'ensparrow.ExitTROILUS. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom.My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse,And all my powers do their bestowing lose,Like vassalage at unawares encount'ringThe eye of majesty.
Re-enter PANDARUS With CRESSIDA
PANDARUS. Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's a baby.-Here sheis now; swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me.-What, are you gone again? You must be watch'd ere you be madetame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you drawbackward, we'll put you i' th' fills.-Why do you not speak toher?-Come, draw this curtain and let's see your picture.Alas the day, how loath you are to offend daylight! An 'tweredark, you'd close sooner. So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistressHow now, a kiss in fee-farm! Build there, carpenter; the air issweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. Thefalcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i' th' river. Go to, goto.TROILUS. You have bereft me of all words, lady.PANDARUS. Words pay no debts, give her deeds; but she'll bereaveyou o' th' deeds too, if she call your activity in question.What, billing again? Here's 'In witness whereof the partiesinterchangeably.' Come in, come in; I'll go get a fire.ExitCRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord?TROILUS. O Cressid, how often have I wish'd me thus!CRESSIDA. Wish'd, my lord! The gods grant-O my lord!TROILUS. What should they grant? What makes this pretty abruption?What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of ourlove?CRESSIDA. More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.TROILUS. Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly.CRESSIDA. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footingthan blind reason stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oftcures the worse.TROILUS. O, let my lady apprehend no fear! In all Cupid's pageantthere is presented no monster.CRESSIDA. Nor nothing monstrous neither?TROILUS. Nothing, but our undertakings when we vow to weep seas,live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for ourmistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo anydifficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady, thatthe will is infinite, and the execution confin'd; that the desireis boundless, and the act a slave to limit.CRESSIDA. They say all lovers swear more performance than they areable, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowingmore than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than thetenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions and the actof hares, are they not monsters?TROILUS. Are there such? Such are not we. Praise us as we aretasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go bare till meritcrown it. No perfection in reversion shall have a praise inpresent. We will not name desert before his birth; and, beingborn, his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith:Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst shallbe a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest nottruer than Troilus.CRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord?
Re-enter PANDARUS
PANDARUS. What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet?CRESSIDA. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.PANDARUS. I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'llgive him me. Be true to my lord; if he flinch, chide me for it.TROILUS. You know now your hostages: your uncle's word and my firmfaith.PANDARUS. Nay, I'll give my word for her too: our kindred, thoughthey be long ere they are wooed, they are constant being won;they are burs, I can tell you; they'll stick where they arethrown.CRESSIDA. Boldness comes to me now and brings me heart.Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and dayFor many weary months.TROILUS. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?CRESSIDA. Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord,With the first glance that ever-pardon me.If I confess much, you will play the tyrant.I love you now; but till now not so muchBut I might master it. In faith, I lie;My thoughts were like unbridled children, grownToo headstrong for their mother. See, we fools!Why have I blabb'd? Who shall be true to us,When we are so unsecret to ourselves?But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not;And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man,Or that we women had men's privilegeOf speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue,For in this rapture I shall surely speakThe thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence,Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness drawsMy very soul of counsel. Stop my mouth.TROILUS. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.PANDARUS. Pretty, i' faith.CRESSIDA. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me;'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss.I am asham'd. O heavens! what have I done?For this time will I take my leave, my lord.TROILUS. Your leave, sweet Cressid!PANDARUS. Leave! An you take leave till to-morrow morning-CRESSIDA. Pray you, content you.TROILUS. What offends you, lady?CRESSIDA. Sir, mine own company.TROILUS. You cannot shun yourself.CRESSIDA. Let me go and try.I have a kind of self resides with you;But an unkind self, that itself will leaveTo be another's fool. I would be gone.Where is my wit? I know not what I speak.TROILUS. Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely.CRESSIDA. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love;And fell so roundly to a large confessionTo angle for your thoughts; but you are wise-Or else you love not; for to be wise and loveExceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.TROILUS. O that I thought it could be in a woman-As, if it can, I will presume in you-To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love;To keep her constancy in plight and youth,Outliving beauty's outward, with a mindThat doth renew swifter than blood decays!Or that persuasion could but thus convince meThat my integrity and truth to youMight be affronted with the match and weightOf such a winnowed purity in love.How were I then uplifted! but, alas,I am as true as truth's simplicity,And simpler than the infancy of truth.CRESSIDA. In that I'll war with you.TROILUS. O virtuous fight,When right with right wars who shall be most right!True swains in love shall in the world to comeApprove their truth by Troilus, when their rhymes,Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration-As true as steel, as plantage to the moon,As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,As iron to adamant, as earth to th' centre-Yet, after all comparisons of truth,As truth's authentic author to be cited,'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verseAnd sanctify the numbers.CRESSIDA. Prophet may you be!If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,When time is old and hath forgot itself,When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy,And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,And mighty states characterless are gratedTo dusty nothing-yet let memoryFrom false to false, among false maids in love,Upbraid my falsehood when th' have said 'As falseAs air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,As fox to lamb, or wolf to heifer's calf,Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son'-Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,'As false as Cressid.'PANDARUS. Go to, a bargain made; seal it, seal it; I'll be thewitness. Here I hold your hand; here my cousin's. If ever youprove false one to another, since I have taken such pains tobring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be call'd tothe world's end after my name-call them all Pandars; let allconstant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and allbrokers between Pandars. Say 'Amen.'TROILUS. Amen.CRESSIDA. Amen.PANDARUS. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamberand a bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of yourpretty encounters, press it to death. Away!And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here,Bed, chamber, pander, to provide this gear!Exeunt
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 aloudTo call for recompense. Appear it to your mindThat, 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 myselfFrom certain and possess'd conveniencesTo doubtful fortunes, sequest'ring from me allThat time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,Made tame and most familiar to my nature;And here, to do you service, am becomeAs new into the world, strange, unacquainted-I do beseech you, as in way of taste,To give me now a little benefitOut 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 affairsThat their negotiations all must slackWanting his manage; and they will almostGive 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 presenceShall quite strike off all service I have doneIn most accepted pain.AGAMEMNON. Let Diomedes bear him,And bring us Cressid hither. Calchas shall haveWhat he requests of us. Good Diomed,Furnish you fairly for this interchange;Withal, bring word if Hector will to-morrowBe answer'd in his challenge. Ajax is ready.DIOMEDES. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burdenWhich I am proud to bear.Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS
ACHILLES 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 meWhy such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on him?If so, I have derision med'cinableTo use between your strangeness and his pride,Which his own will shall have desire to drink.It may do good. Pride hath no other glassTo show itself but pride; for supple kneesFeed arrogance and are the proud man's fees.AGAMEMNON. We'll execute your purpose, and put onA form of strangeness as we pass along.So do each lord; and either greet him not,Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him moreThan 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 NESTORACHILLES. Good day, good day.MENELAUS. How do you? How do you?ExitACHILLES. 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.ExitACHILLES. 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 creepTo 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 othersAs 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 manHath any honour, but honour for those honoursThat 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 togetherDie in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoyAt ample point all that I did possessSave these men's looks; who do, methinks, find outSomething not worth in me such rich beholdingAs 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 hereWrites 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 othersHeat them, and they retort that heat againTo the first giver.ACHILLES. This is not strange, Ulysses.The beauty that is borne here in the faceThe bearer knows not, but commends itselfTo others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself-That most pure spirit of sense-behold itself,Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposedSalutes each other with each other's form;For speculation turns not to itselfTill it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd thereWhere 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 provesThat 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 aughtTill he behold them formed in th' applauseWhere th' are extended; who, like an arch, reverb'rateThe voice again; or, like a gate of steelFronting the sun, receives and renders backHis figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this;And apprehended here immediatelyTh' unknown Ajax. Heavens, what a man is there!A very horse that has he knows not what!Nature, what things there areMost abject in regard and dear in use!What things again most dear in the esteemAnd 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 alreadyThey 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 meAs misers do by beggars-neither gave to meGood 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'dAs fast as they are made, forgot as soonAs done. Perseverance, dear my lord,Keeps honour bright. To have done is to hangQuite out of fashion, like a rusty mailIn 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 sonsThat one by one pursue; if you give way,Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,Like to an ent'red tide they all rush byAnd 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 seekRemuneration for the thing it was;For beauty, wit,High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,Love, friendship, charity, are subjects allTo 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 giltMore 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 eyeThan what stirs not. The cry went once on thee,And still it might, and yet it may again,If thou wouldst not entomb thyself aliveAnd case thy reputation in thy tent,Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of lateMade emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,And drave great Mars to faction.ACHILLES. Of this my privacyI have strong reasons.ULYSSES. But 'gainst your privacyThe reasons are more potent and heroical.'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in loveWith one of Priam's daughters.ACHILLES. Ha! known!ULYSSES. Is that a wonder?The providence that's in a watchful stateKnows 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 relationDurst never meddle-in the soul of state,Which hath an operation more divineThan breath or pen can give expressure to.All the commerce that you have had with TroyAs perfectly is ours as yours, my lord;And better would it fit Achilles muchTo 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.ExitPATROCLUS. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you.A woman impudent and mannish grownIs not more loath'd than an effeminate manIn time of action. I stand condemn'd for this;They think my little stomach to the warAnd your great love to me restrains you thus.Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton CupidShall 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 necessarySeals a commission to a blank of danger;And danger, like an ague, subtly taintsEven then when they sit idly in the sun.ACHILLES. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus.I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire himT' 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 is soprophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves insaying nothing.ACHILLES. How can that be?THERSITES. Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock-a stride and astand; ruminaies like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but herbrain to set down her reckoning, bites his lip with a politicregard, as who should say 'There were wit in this head, an'twould out'; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him asfire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man'sundone 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 'Goodmorrow, Ajax'; and he replies 'Thanks, Agamemnon.' What think youof this man that takes me for the general? He's grown a very landfish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! A man maywear 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 notanswering. Speaking is for beggars: he wears his tongue in'sarms. I will put on his presence. Let Patroclus make his demandsto me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.ACHILLES. To him, Patroclus. Tell him I humbly desire the valiantAjax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to mytent; and to procure safe conduct for his person of themagnanimous and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honour'dCaptain General of the Grecian army, et cetera, Agamemnon. Dothis.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 histent-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 clock itwill go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me ere hehas 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 in himwhen Hector has knock'd out his brains I know not; but, I am sure,none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlingson.ACHILLES. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.THERSITES. Let me carry another to his horse; for that's the morecapable creature.ACHILLES. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;And I myself see not the bottom of it.Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUSTHERSITES. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that Imight water an ass at it. I had rather be a tick in a sheep thansuch a valiant ignorance.Exit
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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 longAs you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly businessShould 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, whereinYou 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 defianceAs 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 lifeWith all my force, pursuit, and policy.AENEAS. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will flyWith his face backward. In humane gentleness,Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life,Welcome indeed! By Venus' hand I swearNo man alive can love in such a sortThe 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 dieWith 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 greetingThe 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 GreekTo 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 fearWe shall be much unwelcome.AENEAS. That I assure you:Troilus had rather Troy were borne to GreeceThan Cressid borne from Troy.PARIS. There is no help;The bitter disposition of the timeWill have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you.AENEAS. Good morrow, all. Exit with servantPARIS. 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 upThe lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;You, like a lecher, out of whorish loinsAre 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 veinsA Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scrupleOf her contaminated carrion weightA Troyan hath been slain; since she could speak,She hath not given so many good words breathAs 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