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Title: Troilus and CressidaAuthor: William ShakespeareRelease date: June 1, 1999 [eBook #1790]Most recently updated: November 12, 2020Language: English
Title: Troilus and Cressida
Author: William Shakespeare
Author: William Shakespeare
Release date: June 1, 1999 [eBook #1790]Most recently updated: November 12, 2020
Language: English
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ***
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1602
by William Shakespeare
PRIAM, King of Troy
His sons:HECTORTROILUSPARISDEIPHOBUSHELENUS
MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam
Trojan commanders:AENEASANTENOR
CALCHAS, a Trojan priest, taking part with the GreeksPANDARUS, uncle to CressidaAGAMEMNON, the Greek generalMENELAUS, his brother
Greek commanders:ACHILLESAJAXULYSSESNESTORDIOMEDESPATROCLUS
THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous GreekALEXANDER, servant to CressidaSERVANT to TroilusSERVANT to ParisSERVANT to Diomedes
HELEN, wife to MenelausANDROMACHE, wife to HectorCASSANDRA, daughter to Priam, a prophetessCRESSIDA, daughter to Calchas
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants
In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of GreeceThe princes orgillous, their high blood chaf'd,Have to the port of Athens sent their shipsFraught with the ministers and instrumentsOf cruel war. Sixty and nine that woreTheir crownets regal from th' Athenian bayPut forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is madeTo ransack Troy, within whose strong immuresThe ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,With wanton Paris sleeps-and that's the quarrel.To Tenedos they come,And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorgeTheir war-like fraughtage. Now on Dardan plainsThe fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitchTheir brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,And Antenorides, with massy staplesAnd corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,Sperr up the sons of Troy.Now expectation, tickling skittish spiritsOn one and other side, Troyan and Greek,Sets all on hazard-and hither am I comeA Prologue arm'd, but not in confidenceOf author's pen or actor's voice, but suitedIn like conditions as our argument,To tell you, fair beholders, that our playLeaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,Beginning in the middle; starting thence away,To what may be digested in a play.Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are;Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.
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Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS
TROILUS. Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again.Why should I war without the walls of TroyThat find such cruel battle here within?Each Troyan that is master of his heart,Let him to field; Troilus, alas, hath none!PANDARUS. Will this gear ne'er be mended?TROILUS. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;But I am weaker than a woman's tear,Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,Less valiant than the virgin in the night,And skilless as unpractis'd infancy.PANDARUS. Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part,I'll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a cakeout of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding.TROILUS. Have I not tarried?PANDARUS. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.TROILUS. Have I not tarried?PANDARUS. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.TROILUS. Still have I tarried.PANDARUS. Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the heatingof the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too,or you may chance to burn your lips.TROILUS. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,Doth lesser blench at suff'rance than I do.At Priam's royal table do I sit;And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts-So, traitor, then she comes when she is thence.PANDARUS. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw herlook, or any woman else.TROILUS. I was about to tell thee: when my heart,As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,I have, as when the sun doth light a storm,Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile.But sorrow that is couch'd in seeming gladnessIs like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.PANDARUS. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's-well,go to- there were no more comparison between the women. But, formy part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it,praise her, but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, asI did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit; but-TROILUS. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus-When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd,Reply not in how many fathoms deepThey lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am madIn Cressid's love. Thou answer'st 'She is fair'-Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart-Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice,Handlest in thy discourse. O, that her hand,In whose comparison all whites are inkWriting their own reproach; to whose soft seizureThe cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of senseHard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'st me,As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given meThe knife that made it.PANDARUS. I speak no more than truth.TROILUS. Thou dost not speak so much.PANDARUS. Faith, I'll not meddle in it. Let her be as she is: ifshe be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has themends in her own hands.TROILUS. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus!PANDARUS. I have had my labour for my travail, ill thought on ofher and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, butsmall thanks for my labour.TROILUS. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with me?PANDARUS. Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair asHelen. An she were not kin to me, she would be as fair a Fridayas Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were ablackamoor; 'tis all one to me.TROILUS. Say I she is not fair?PANDARUS. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to staybehind her father. Let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell herthe next time I see her. For my part, I'll meddle nor make nomore i' th' matter.TROILUS. Pandarus!PANDARUS. Not I.TROILUS. Sweet Pandarus!PANDARUS. Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave allas I found it, and there an end.Exit. Sound alarumTROILUS. Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds!Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,When with your blood you daily paint her thus.I cannot fight upon this argument;It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.But Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague me!I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar;And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to wooAs she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl;Between our Ilium and where she residesLet it be call'd the wild and wand'ring flood;Ourself the merchant, and this sailing PandarOur doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
Alarum. Enter AENEAS
AENEAS. How now, Prince Troilus! Wherefore not afield?TROILUS. Because not there. This woman's answer sorts,For womanish it is to be from thence.What news, Aeneas, from the field to-day?AENEAS. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.TROILUS. By whom, Aeneas?AENEAS. Troilus, by Menelaus.TROILUS. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn;Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.[Alarum]AENEAS. Hark what good sport is out of town to-day!TROILUS. Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.'But to the sport abroad. Are you bound thither?AENEAS. In all swift haste.TROILUS. Come, go we then together.Exeunt
Enter CRESSIDA and her man ALEXANDER
CRESSIDA. Who were those went by?ALEXANDER. Queen Hecuba and Helen.CRESSIDA. And whither go they?ALEXANDER. Up to the eastern tower,Whose height commands as subject all the vale,To see the battle. Hector, whose patienceIs as a virtue fix'd, to-day was mov'd.He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;And, like as there were husbandry in war,Before the sun rose he was harness'd light,And to the field goes he; where every flowerDid as a prophet weep what it foresawIn Hector's wrath.CRESSIDA. What was his cause of anger?ALEXANDER. The noise goes, this: there is among the GreeksA lord of Troyan blood, nephew to Hector;They call him Ajax.CRESSIDA. Good; and what of him?ALEXANDER. They say he is a very man per se,And stands alone.CRESSIDA. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have nolegs.ALEXANDER. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of theirparticular additions: he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as thebear, slow as the elephant-a man into whom nature hath so crowdedhumours that his valour is crush'd into folly, his folly saucedwith discretion. There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not aglimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain ofit; he is melancholy without cause and merry against the hair; hehath the joints of every thing; but everything so out of jointthat he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use, or purblindArgus, all eyes and no sight.CRESSIDA. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hectorangry?ALEXANDER. They say he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battle andstruck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever sincekept Hector fasting and waking.
Enter PANDARUS
CRESSIDA. Who comes here?ALEXANDER. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.CRESSIDA. Hector's a gallant man.ALEXANDER. As may be in the world, lady.PANDARUS. What's that? What's that?CRESSIDA. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.PANDARUS. Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you talk of?- Goodmorrow, Alexander.-How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium?CRESSIDA. This morning, uncle.PANDARUS. What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector arm'dand gone ere you came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she?CRESSIDA. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.PANDARUS. E'en so. Hector was stirring early.CRESSIDA. That were we talking of, and of his anger.PANDARUS. Was he angry?CRESSIDA. So he says here.PANDARUS. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay abouthim today, I can tell them that. And there's Troilus will notcome far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus, I can tellthem that too.CRESSIDA. What, is he angry too?PANDARUS. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.CRESSIDA. O Jupiter! there's no comparison.PANDARUS. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a manif you see him?CRESSIDA. Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him.PANDARUS. Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.CRESSIDA. Then you say as I say, for I am sure he is not Hector.PANDARUS. No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees.CRESSIDA. 'Tis just to each of them: he is himself.PANDARUS. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were!CRESSIDA. So he is.PANDARUS. Condition I had gone barefoot to India.CRESSIDA. He is not Hector.PANDARUS. 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 abetter man than Troilus.CRESSIDA. Excuse me.PANDARUS. He is elder.CRESSIDA. Pardon me, pardon me.PANDARUS. Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me another talewhen th' other's come to't. Hector shall not have his wit thisyear.CRESSIDA. He shall not need it if he have his own.PANDARUS. Nor his qualities.CRESSIDA. No matter.PANDARUS. Nor his beauty.CRESSIDA. 'Twould not become him: his own's better.PANDARUS. YOU have no judgment, niece. Helen herself swore th'other day that Troilus, for a brown favour, for so 'tis, I mustconfess- not brown neither-CRESSIDA. No, but brown.PANDARUS. Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.CRESSIDA. To say the truth, true and not true.PANDARUS. She prais'd his complexion above Paris.CRESSIDA. Why, Paris hath colour enough.PANDARUS. So he has.CRESSIDA. Then Troilus should have too much. If she prais'd himabove, his complexion is higher than his; he having colourenough, and the other higher, is too flaming praise for a goodcomplexion. I had as lief Helen's golden tongue had commendedTroilus for a copper nose.PANDARUS. I swear to you I think Helen loves him better than Paris.CRESSIDA. Then she's a merry Greek indeed.PANDARUS. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other dayinto the compass'd window-and you know he has not past three orfour hairs on his chin-CRESSIDA. Indeed a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring hisparticulars therein to a total.PANDARUS. Why, he is very young, and yet will he within three poundlift as much as his brother Hector.CRESSIDA. Is he so young a man and so old a lifter?PANDARUS. But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came andputs me her white hand to his cloven chin-CRESSIDA. Juno have mercy! How came it cloven?PANDARUS. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled. I think his smiling becomeshim better than any man in all Phrygia.CRESSIDA. O, he smiles valiantly!PANDARUS. Does he not?CRESSIDA. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn!PANDARUS. Why, go to, then! But to prove to you that Helen lovesTroilus-CRESSIDA. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so.PANDARUS. Troilus! Why, he esteems her no more than I esteem anaddle egg.CRESSIDA. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idlehead, you would eat chickens i' th' shell.PANDARUS. I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled hischin. Indeed, she has a marvell's white hand, I must needsconfess.CRESSIDA. Without the rack.PANDARUS. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.CRESSIDA. Alas, poor chin! Many a wart is richer.PANDARUS. But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laugh'd thather eyes ran o'er.CRESSIDA. With millstones.PANDARUS. And Cassandra laugh'd.CRESSIDA. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of hereyes. Did her eyes run o'er too?PANDARUS. And Hector laugh'd.CRESSIDA. At what was all this laughing?PANDARUS. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus'chin.CRESSIDA. An't had been a green hair I should have laugh'd too.PANDARUS. They laugh'd not so much at the hair as at his prettyanswer.CRESSIDA. What was his answer?PANDARUS. Quoth she 'Here's but two and fifty hairs on your chin,and one of them is white.'CRESSIDA. This is her question.PANDARUS. That's true; make no question of that. 'Two and fiftyhairs,' quoth he 'and one white. That white hair is my father,and all the rest are his sons.' 'Jupiter!' quoth she 'which ofthese hairs is Paris my husband?' 'The forked one,' quoth he,'pluck't out and give it him.' But there was such laughing! andHelen so blush'd, and Paris so chaf'd; and all the rest solaugh'd that it pass'd.CRESSIDA. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by.PANDARUS. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on't.CRESSIDA. So I do.PANDARUS. I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, and 'twere aman born in April.CRESSIDA. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettleagainst May. [Sound a retreat]PANDARUS. Hark! they are coming from the field. Shall we stand uphere and see them as they pass toward Ilium? Good niece, do,sweet niece Cressida.CRESSIDA. At your pleasure.PANDARUS. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may seemost bravely. I'll tell you them all by their names as they passby; but mark Troilus above the rest.
AENEAS passes
CRESSIDA. Speak not so loud.PANDARUS. That's Aeneas. Is not that a brave man? He's one of theflowers of Troy, I can tell you. But mark Troilus; you shall seeanon.
ANTENOR passes
CRESSIDA. Who's that?PANDARUS. That's Antenor. He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you; andhe's a man good enough; he's one o' th' soundest judgments inTroy, whosoever, and a proper man of person. When comes Troilus?I'll show you Troilus anon. If he see me, you shall see him nodat me.CRESSIDA. Will he give you the nod?PANDARUS. You shall see.CRESSIDA. If he do, the rich shall have more.
HECTOR passes
PANDARUS. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's afellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man, niece. O braveHector! Look how he looks. There's a countenance! Is't not abrave man?CRESSIDA. O, a brave man!PANDARUS. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart good. Look you whathacks are on his helmet! Look you yonder, do you see? Look youthere. There's no jesting; there's laying on; take't off whowill, as they say. There be hacks.CRESSIDA. Be those with swords?PANDARUS. Swords! anything, he cares not; an the devil come to him,it's all one. By God's lid, it does one's heart good. Yondercomes Paris, yonder comes Paris.
PARIS passes
Look ye yonder, 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.
HELENUS passes
CRESSIDA. Who's that?PANDARUS. That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That'sHelenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus.CRESSIDA. Can Helenus fight, uncle?PANDARUS. Helenus! no. Yes, he'll fight indifferent well. I marvelwhere Troilus is. Hark! do you not hear the people cry 'Troilus'?Helenus is a priest.CRESSIDA. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
TROILUS passes
PANDARUS. Where? yonder? That's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus. There's aman, niece. Hem! Brave Troilus, the prince of chivalry!CRESSIDA. Peace, for shame, peace!PANDARUS. Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon him,niece; look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm morehack'd than Hector's; and how he looks, and how he goes! Oadmirable youth! he never saw three and twenty. Go thy way,Troilus, go thy way. Had I a sister were a grace or a daughter agoddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris? Parisis dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give aneye to boot.CRESSIDA. Here comes more.
Common soldiers pass
PANDARUS. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran!porridge after meat! I could live and die in 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 thanAgamemnon and all Greece.CRESSIDA. There is amongst the Greeks Achilles, a better man thanTroilus.PANDARUS. Achilles? A drayman, a porter, a very camel!CRESSIDA. Well, well.PANDARUS. Well, well! Why, have you any discretion? Have you anyeyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, goodshape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth,liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man?CRESSIDA. Ay, a minc'd man; and then to be bak'd with no date inthe pie, for then the man's date is out.PANDARUS. You are such a woman! A man knows not at what ward youlie.CRESSIDA. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defendmy wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, todefend my beauty; and you, to defend all these; and at all thesewards I lie at, at a thousand watches.PANDARUS. Say one of your watches.CRESSIDA. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of thechiefest 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 swellpast hiding, and then it's past watchingPANDARUS. You are such another!
Enter TROILUS' BOY
BOY. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.PANDARUS. Where?BOY. At your own house; there he unarms him.PANDARUS. Good boy, tell him I come. Exit BoyI doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.CRESSIDA. Adieu, uncle.PANDARUS. I will be with you, niece, by and by.CRESSIDA. To bring, uncle.PANDARUS. Ay, a token from Troilus.ExitCRESSIDA. By the same token, you are a bawd.Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice,He offers in another's enterprise;But more in Troilus thousand-fold I seeThan 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.That she was never yet that ever knewLove got so sweet as when desire did sue;Therefore this maxim out of love I teach:Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech.Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear,Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.Exit
Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, MENELAUS, and others
AGAMEMNON. Princes,What grief hath set these jaundies o'er your cheeks?The ample proposition that hope makesIn all designs begun on earth belowFails in the promis'd largeness; checks and disastersGrow in the veins of actions highest rear'd,As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,Infects the sound pine, and diverts his grainTortive and errant from his course of growth.Nor, princes, is it matter new to usThat we come short of our suppose so farThat after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand;Sith every action that hath gone before,Whereof we have record, trial did drawBias and thwart, not answering the aim,And that unbodied figure of the thoughtThat gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes,Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our worksAnd call them shames, which are, indeed, nought elseBut the protractive trials of great JoveTo find persistive constancy in men;The fineness of which metal is not foundIn fortune's love? For then the bold and coward,The wise and fool, the artist and unread,The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin.But in the wind and tempest of her frownDistinction, with a broad and powerful fan,Puffing at all, winnows the light away;And what hath mass or matter by itselfLies rich in virtue and unmingled.NESTOR. With due observance of thy godlike seat,Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall applyThy latest words. In the reproof of chanceLies the true proof of men. The sea being smooth,How many shallow bauble boats dare sailUpon her patient breast, making their wayWith those of nobler bulk!But let the ruffian Boreas once enrageThe gentle Thetis, and anon beholdThe strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,Bounding between the two moist elementsLike Perseus' horse. Where's then the saucy boat,Whose weak untimber'd sides but even nowCo-rivall'd greatness? Either to harbour fledOr made a toast for Neptune. Even soDoth valour's show and valour's worth divideIn storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightnessThe herd hath more annoyance by the breezeThan by the tiger; but when the splitting windMakes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,And flies fled under shade-why, then the thing of courageAs rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathise,And with an accent tun'd in self-same keyRetorts to chiding fortune.ULYSSES. Agamemnon,Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,Heart of our numbers, soul and only spiritIn whom the tempers and the minds of allShould be shut up-hear what Ulysses speaks.Besides the applause and approbationThe which, [To AGAMEMNON] most mighty, for thy place and sway,[To NESTOR] And, thou most reverend, for thy stretch'd-out life,I give to both your speeches- which were suchAs Agamemnon and the hand of GreeceShould hold up high in brass; and such againAs venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver,Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-treeOn which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish earsTo his experienc'd tongue-yet let it please both,Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak.AGAMEMNON. Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expectThat matter needless, of importless burden,Divide thy lips than we are confident,When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws,We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.ULYSSES. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down,And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master,But for these instances:The specialty of rule hath been neglected;And look how many Grecian tents do standHollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions.When that the general is not like the hive,To whom the foragers shall all repair,What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded,Th' unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask.The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre,Observe degree, priority, and place,Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,Office, and custom, in all line of order;And therefore is the glorious planet SolIn noble eminence enthron'd and spher'dAmidst the other, whose med'cinable eyeCorrects the ill aspects of planets evil,And posts, like the commandment of a king,Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planetsIn evil mixture to disorder wander,What plagues and what portents, what mutiny,What raging of the sea, shaking of earth,Commotion in the winds! Frights, changes, horrors,Divert and crack, rend and deracinate,The unity and married calm of statesQuite from their fixture! O, when degree is shak'd,Which is the ladder of all high designs,The enterprise is sick! How could communities,Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,The primogenity and due of birth,Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,But by degree, stand in authentic place?Take but degree away, untune that string,And hark what discord follows! Each thing meltsIn mere oppugnancy: the bounded watersShould lift their bosoms higher than the shores,And make a sop of all this solid globe;Strength should be lord of imbecility,And the rude son should strike his father dead;Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong-Between whose endless jar justice resides-Should lose their names, and so should justice too.Then everything includes itself in power,Power into will, will into appetite;And appetite, an universal wolf,So doubly seconded with will and power,Must make perforce an universal prey,And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,This chaos, when degree is suffocate,Follows the choking.And this neglection of degree it isThat by a pace goes backward, with a purposeIt hath to climb. The general's disdain'dBy him one step below, he by the next,That next by him beneath; so ever step,Exampl'd by the first pace that is sickOf his superior, grows to an envious feverOf pale and bloodless emulation.And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length,Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength.NESTOR. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'dThe fever whereof all our power is sick.AGAMEMNON. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses,What is the remedy?ULYSSES. The great Achilles, whom opinion crownsThe sinew and the forehand of our host,Having his ear full of his airy fame,Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tentLies mocking our designs; with him PatroclusUpon a lazy bed the livelong dayBreaks scurril jests;And with ridiculous and awkward action-Which, slanderer, he imitation calls-He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,Thy topless deputation he puts on;And like a strutting player whose conceitLies in his hamstring, and doth think it richTo hear the wooden dialogue and sound'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage-Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seemingHe acts thy greatness in; and when he speaks'Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms unsquar'd,Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd,Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuffThe large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling,From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause;Cries 'Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just.Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy beard,As he being drest to some oration.'That's done-as near as the extremest endsOf parallels, as like Vulcan and his wife;Yet god Achilles still cries 'Excellent!'Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus,Arming to answer in a night alarm.'And then, forsooth, the faint defects of ageMust be the scene of mirth: to cough and spitAnd, with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget,Shake in and out the rivet. And at this sportSir Valour dies; cries 'O, enough, Patroclus;Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split allIn pleasure of my spleen.' And in this fashionAll our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,Severals and generals of grace exact,Achievements, plots, orders, preventions,Excitements to the field or speech for truce,Success or loss, what is or is not, servesAs stuff for these two to make paradoxes.NESTOR. And in the imitation of these twain-Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crownsWith an imperial voice-many are infect.Ajax is grown self-will'd and bears his headIn such a rein, in full as proud a placeAs broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him;Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of warBold as an oracle, and sets Thersites,A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint,To match us in comparisons with dirt,To weaken and discredit our exposure,How rank soever rounded in with danger.ULYSSES. They tax our policy and call it cowardice,Count wisdom as no member of the war,Forestall prescience, and esteem no actBut that of hand. The still and mental partsThat do contrive how many hands shall strikeWhen fitness calls them on, and know, by measureOf their observant toil, the enemies' weight-Why, this hath not a finger's dignity:They call this bed-work, mapp'ry, closet-war;So that the ram that batters down the wall,For the great swinge and rudeness of his poise,They place before his hand that made the engine,Or those that with the fineness of their soulsBy reason guide his execution.NESTOR. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horseMakes many Thetis' sons.[Tucket]AGAMEMNON. What trumpet? Look, Menelaus.MENELAUS. From Troy.
Enter AENEAS
AGAMEMNON. What would you fore our tent?AENEAS. Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you?AGAMEMNON. Even this.AENEAS. May one that is a herald and a princeDo a fair message to his kingly eyes?AGAMEMNON. With surety stronger than Achilles' anFore all the Greekish heads, which with one voiceCall Agamemnon head and general.AENEAS. Fair leave and large security. How mayA stranger to those most imperial looksKnow them from eyes of other mortals?AGAMEMNON. How?AENEAS. Ay;I ask, that I might waken reverence,And bid the cheek be ready with a blushModest as Morning when she coldly eyesThe youthful Phoebus.Which is that god in office, guiding men?Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?AGAMEMNON. This Troyan scorns us, or the men of TroyAre ceremonious courtiers.AENEAS. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd,As bending angels; that's their fame in peace.But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord,Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Aeneas,Peace, Troyan; lay thy finger on thy lips.The worthiness of praise distains his worth,If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth;But what the repining enemy commends,That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends.AGAMEMNON. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas?AENEAS. Ay, Greek, that is my name.AGAMEMNON. What's your affair, I pray you?AENEAS. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.AGAMEMNON. He hears nought privately that comes from Troy.AENEAS. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper with him;I bring a trumpet to awake his ear,To set his sense on the attentive bent,And then to speak.AGAMEMNON. Speak frankly as the wind;It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour.That thou shalt know, Troyan, he is awake,He tells thee so himself.AENEAS. Trumpet, blow loud,Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;And every Greek of mettle, let him knowWhat Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud.[Sound trumpet]We have, great Agamemnon, here in TroyA prince called Hector-Priam is his father-Who in this dull and long-continued truceIs resty grown; he bade me take a trumpetAnd to this purpose speak: Kings, princes, lords!If there be one among the fair'st of GreeceThat holds his honour higher than his ease,That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril,That knows his valour and knows not his fear,That loves his mistress more than in confessionWith truant vows to her own lips he loves,And dare avow her beauty and her worthIn other arms than hers-to him this challenge.Hector, in view of Troyans and of Greeks,Shall make it good or do his best to do it:He hath a lady wiser, fairer, truer,Than ever Greek did couple in his arms;And will to-morrow with his trumpet callMid-way between your tents and walls of TroyTo rouse a Grecian that is true in love.If any come, Hector shall honour him;If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires,The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worthThe splinter of a lance. Even so much.AGAMEMNON. This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas.If none of them have soul in such a kind,We left them all at home. But we are soldiers;And may that soldier a mere recreant proveThat means not, hath not, or is not in love.If then one is, or hath, or means to be,That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he.NESTOR. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a manWhen Hector's grandsire suck'd. He is old now;But if there be not in our Grecian mouldOne noble man that hath one spark of fireTo answer for his love, tell him from meI'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver,And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn,And, meeting him, will tell him that my ladyWas fairer than his grandame, and as chasteAs may be in the world. His youth in flood,I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood.AENEAS. Now heavens forfend such scarcity of youth!ULYSSES. Amen.AGAMEMNON. Fair Lord Aeneas, let me touch your hand;To our pavilion shall I lead you, first.Achilles shall have word of this intent;So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent.Yourself shall feast with us before you go,And find the welcome of a noble foe.Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTORULYSSES. Nestor!NESTOR. What says Ulysses?ULYSSES. I have a young conception in my brain;Be you my time to bring it to some shape.NESTOR. What is't?ULYSSES. This 'tis:Blunt wedges rive hard knots. The seeded prideThat hath to this maturity blown upIn rank Achilles must or now be cropp'dOr, shedding, breed a nursery of like evilTo overbulk us all.NESTOR. Well, and how?ULYSSES. This challenge that the gallant Hector sends,However it is spread in general name,Relates in purpose only to Achilles.NESTOR. True. The purpose is perspicuous even as substanceWhose grossness little characters sum up;And, in the publication, make no strainBut that Achilles, were his brain as barrenAs banks of Libya-though, Apollo knows,'Tis dry enough-will with great speed of judgment,Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purposePointing on him.ULYSSES. And wake him to the answer, think you?NESTOR. Why, 'tis most meet. Who may you else opposeThat can from Hector bring those honours off,If not Achilles? Though 't be a sportful combat,Yet in this trial much opinion dwells;For here the Troyans taste our dear'st reputeWith their fin'st palate; and trust to me, Ulysses,Our imputation shall be oddly pois'dIn this vile action; for the success,Although particular, shall give a scantlingOf good or bad unto the general;And in such indexes, although small pricksTo their subsequent volumes, there is seenThe baby figure of the giant masOf things to come at large. It is suppos'dHe that meets Hector issues from our choice;And choice, being mutual act of all our souls,Makes merit her election, and doth boil,As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'dOut of our virtues; who miscarrying,What heart receives from hence a conquering part,To steel a strong opinion to themselves?Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments,In no less working than are swords and bowsDirective by the limbs.ULYSSES. Give pardon to my speech.Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector.Let us, like merchants, show our foulest waresAnd think perchance they'll sell; if not, the lustreOf the better yet to show shall show the better,By showing the worst first. Do not consentThat ever Hector and Achilles meet;For both our honour and our shame in thisAre dogg'd with two strange followers.NESTOR. I see them not with my old eyes. What are they?ULYSSES. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,Were he not proud, we all should wear with him;But he already is too insolent;And it were better parch in Afric sunThan in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foil'd,Why, then we do our main opinion crushIn taint of our best man. No, make a lott'ry;And, by device, let blockish Ajax drawThe sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselvesGive him allowance for the better man;For that will physic the great Myrmidon,Who broils in loud applause, and make him fallHis crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends.If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,We'll dress him up in voices; if he fail,Yet go we under our opinion stillThat we have better men. But, hit or miss,Our project's life this shape of sense assumes-Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes.NESTOR. Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice;And I will give a taste thereof forthwithTo Agamemnon. Go we to him straight.Two curs shall tame each other: pride aloneMust tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.Exeunt
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Enter Ajax and THERSITES
AJAX. Thersites!THERSITES. Agamemnon-how if he had boils full, an over, generally?AJAX. Thersites!THERSITES. And those boils did run-say so. Did not the general runthen? Were not that a botchy core?AJAX. Dog!THERSITES. Then there would come some matter from him;I see none now.AJAX. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Feel, then.[Strikes him.]THERSITES. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-wittedlord!AJAX. Speak, then, thou whinid'st leaven, speak. I will beat theeinto handsomeness.THERSITES. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but Ithink thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn aprayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red murraino' thy jade's tricks!AJAX. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.THERSITES. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus?AJAX. The proclamation!THERSITES. Thou art proclaim'd, a fool, I think.AJAX. Do not, porpentine, do not; my fingers itch.THERSITES. I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had thescratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab inGreece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest asslow as another.AJAX. I say, the proclamation.THERSITES. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles; andthou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is atProserpina's beauty-ay, that thou bark'st at him.AJAX. Mistress Thersites!THERSITES. Thou shouldst strike him.AJAX. Cobloaf!THERSITES. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as asailor breaks a biscuit.AJAX. You whoreson cur! [Strikes him]THERSITES. Do, do.AJAX. Thou stool for a witch!THERSITES. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no morebrain than I have in mine elbows; an assinico may tutor thee. Youscurvy valiant ass! Thou art here but to thrash Troyans, and thouart bought and sold among those of any wit like a barbarianslave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel and tellwhat thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou!AJAX. You dog!THERSITES. You scurvy lord!AJAX. You cur! [Strikes him]THERSITES. Mars his idiot! Do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do.
Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS
ACHILLES. Why, how now, Ajax! Wherefore do you thus?How now, Thersites! What's the matter, man?THERSITES. You see him there, do you?ACHILLES. Ay; what's the matter?THERSITES. Nay, look upon him.ACHILLES. So I do. What's the matter?THERSITES. Nay, but regard him well.ACHILLES. Well! why, so I do.THERSITES. But yet you look not well upon him; for who some everyou take him to be, he is Ajax.ACHILLES. I know that, fool.THERSITES. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.AJAX. Therefore I beat thee.THERSITES. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! Hisevasions have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain more thanhe has beat my bones. I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, andhis pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. Thislord, Achilles, Ajax-who wears his wit in his belly and his gutsin his head-I'll tell you what I say of him.ACHILLES. What?THERSITES. I say this Ajax- [AJAX offers to strike him]ACHILLES. Nay, good Ajax.THERSITES. Has not so much wit-ACHILLES. Nay, I must hold you.THERSITES. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom hecomes to fight.ACHILLES. Peace, fool.THERSITES. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not-he there; that he; look you there.AJAX. O thou damned cur! I shall-ACHILLES. Will you set your wit to a fool's?THERSITES. No, I warrant you, the fool's will shame it.PATROCLUS. Good words, Thersites.ACHILLES. What's the quarrel?AJAX. I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of theproclamation, and he rails upon me.THERSITES. I serve thee not.AJAX. Well, go to, go to.THERSITES. I serve here voluntary.ACHILLES. Your last service was suff'rance; 'twas not voluntary. Noman is beaten voluntary. Ajax was here the voluntary, and you asunder an impress.THERSITES. E'en so; a great deal of your wit too lies in yoursinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catchan he knock out either of your brains: 'a were as good crack afusty nut with no kernel.ACHILLES. What, with me too, Thersites?THERSITES. There's Ulysses and old Nestor-whose wit was mouldy ereyour grandsires had nails on their toes-yoke you like draughtoxen, and make you plough up the wars.ACHILLES. What, what?THERSITES. Yes, good sooth. To Achilles, to Ajax, to-AJAX. I shall cut out your tongue.THERSITES. 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thouafterwards.PATROCLUS. No more words, Thersites; peace!THERSITES. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shallI?ACHILLES. There's for you, Patroclus.THERSITES. I will see you hang'd like clotpoles ere I come any moreto your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leavethe faction of fools.ExitPATROCLUS. A good riddance.ACHILLES. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host,That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,Will with a trumpet 'twixt our tents and Troy,To-morrow morning, call some knight to armsThat hath a stomach; and such a one that dareMaintain I know not what; 'tis trash. Farewell.AJAX. Farewell. Who shall answer him?ACHILLES. I know not; 'tis put to lott'ry. Otherwise. He knew hisman.AJAX. O, meaning you! I will go learn more of it.Exeunt