It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New Folger Editions available in electronic form as Folger Digital Texts, we place a trusted resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theater.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging. Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of the Folger Digital Texts, readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of
Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
Other editorial decisions involve choices about whether an unfamiliar word could be understood in light of other writings of the period or whether it should be changed; decisions about words that made it into Shakespeare’s text by accident through four hundred years of printings and misprinting; and even decisions based on cultural preference and taste. When the Moby™ Text was created, for example, it was deemed “improper” and “indecent” for Miranda to chastise Caliban for having attempted to rape her. (See
The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
The editors of the Moby™ Shakespeare produced their text long before scholars fully understood the proper grounds on which to make the thousands of decisions that Shakespeare editors face. The Folger Library Shakespeare Editions, on which the Folger Digital Texts depend, make this editorial process as nearly transparent as is possible, in contrast to older texts, like the Moby™, which hide editorial interventions. The reader of the Folger Shakespeare knows where the text has been altered because editorial interventions are signaled by square brackets (for example, from
Othello
: “
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If she in chains of magic were not bound,
square bracket
”), half-square brackets (for example, from
Henry V
: “With
half-square bracket
blood
half-square bracket
and sword and fire to win your right,”), or angle brackets (for example, from
Hamlet
: “O farewell, honest
angle bracket
soldier.
angle bracket
Who hath relieved/you?”). At any point in the text, you can hover your cursor over a bracket for more information.
Because the Folger Digital Texts are edited in accord with twenty-first century knowledge about Shakespeare’s texts, the Folger here provides them to readers, scholars, teachers, actors, directors, and students, free of charge, confident of their quality as texts of the plays and pleased to be able to make this contribution to the study and enjoyment of Shakespeare.
Set during the Trojan War,
Troilus and Cressida
recounts the love affair of its title characters. Inside the besieged city of Troy, the Trojan prince Troilus is lovesick for Cressida. Cressida is drawn to Troilus, too, and her uncle, Pandarus, brings them together.
In the Greek camp outside, Cressida’s father, Calchas, asks that Cressida be brought to him in return for the help he has given the Greeks. The morning after the lovers’ night together, Cressida is exchanged for a Trojan prisoner and taken to the camp by the Greek warrior Diomedes.
The great Trojan warrior Hector, Troilus’s brother, engages in single combat with the Greek Ajax, a fight that ends inconclusively. Hector and Troilus join the Greeks for a feast. Cressida, meanwhile, is seduced by Diomedes.
Distraught at Cressida’s betrayal, Troilus fights Diomedes and others. Patroclus, favorite of the Greek warrior Achilles, dies in battle. Achilles fights with and loses to Hector, who is then, on Achilles’s orders, dishonorably slain. Grieving, Troilus and the other Trojans return to Troy.
A
never
writer
to
an
ever
reader
:
news
.
Eternal
reader
,
you
have
here
a
new
play
,
never
staled
with
the
stage
,
never
clapperclawed
with
the
palms
of
the
vulgar
,
and
yet
passing
full
of
the
palm
comical
,
for
it
is
a
birth
of
your
brain
that
never
undertook
anything
comical
vainly
.
And
were
but
the
vain
names
of
comedies
changed
for
the
titles
of
commodities
,
or
of
plays
for
pleas
,
you
should
see
all
those
grand
censors
,
that
now
style
them
such
vanities
,
flock
to
them
for
the
main
grace
of
their
gravities
,
especially
this
author’s
comedies
,
that
are
so
framed
to
the
life
that
they
serve
for
the
most
common
commentaries
of
all
the
actions
of
our
lives
,
showing
such
a
dexterity
and
power
of
wit
that
the
most
displeased
with
plays
are
pleased
with
his
comedies
.
And
all
such
dull
and
heavy-witted
worldlings
as
were
never
capable
of
the
wit
of
a
comedy
,
coming
by
report
of
them
to
his
representations
,
have
found
that
wit
there
that
they
never
found
in
themselves
and
have
parted
better
witted
than
they
came
,
feeling
an
edge
of
wit
set
upon
them
more
than
ever
they
dreamed
they
had
brain
to
grind
it
on
.
So
much
and
such
savored
salt
of
wit
is
in
his
comedies
that
they
seem
,
for
their
height
of
pleasure
,
to
be
born
in
that
sea
that
brought
forth
Venus
.
Amongst
all
there
is
none
more
witty
than
this
;
and
had
I
time
,
I
would
comment
upon
it
,
though
I
know
it
needs
not
,
for
so
much
as
will
make
you
think
your
testern
well
bestowed
,
but
for
so
much
worth
as
even
poor
I
know
to
be
stuffed
in
it
.
It
deserves
such
a
labor
as
well
as
the
best
comedy
in
Terence
or
Plautus
.
And
believe
this
,
that
when
he
is
gone
and
his
comedies
out
of
sale
,
you
will
scramble
for
them
and
set
up
a
new
English
Inquisition
.
Take
this
for
a
warning
,
and
at
the
peril
of
your
pleasure’s
loss
,
and
judgment’s
,
refuse
not
nor
like
this
the
less
for
not
being
sullied
with
the
smoky
breath
of
the
multitude
,
but
thank
fortune
for
the
scape
it
hath
made
amongst
you
,
since
by
the
grand
possessors’
wills
I
believe
you
should
have
prayed
for
them
rather
than
been
prayed
.
And
so
I
leave
all
such
to
be
prayed
for
,
for
the
states
of
their
wits’
healths
,
that
will
not
praise
it
.
Vale
.
Enter
the
Prologue
in
armor
.
In
Troy
there
lies
the
scene
.
From
isles
of
Greece
The
princes
orgulous
,
their
high
blood
chafed
,
Have
to
the
port
of
Athens
sent
their
ships
Fraught
with
the
ministers
and
instruments
Of
cruel
war
.
Sixty
and
nine
,
that
wore
Their
crownets
regal
,
from
th’
Athenian
bay
Put
forth
toward
Phrygia
,
and
their
vow
is
made
To
ransack
Troy
,
within
whose
strong
immures
The
ravished
Helen
,
Menelaus’
queen
,
With
wanton
Paris
sleeps
;
and
that’s
the
quarrel
.
To
Tenedos
they
come
,
And
the
deep-drawing
barks
do
there
disgorge
Their
warlike
fraughtage
.
Now
on
Dardan
plains
The
fresh
and
yet
unbruisèd
Greeks
do
pitch
Their
brave
pavilions
.
Priam’s
six-gated
city
—
Dardan
and
Timbria
,
Helias
,
Chetas
,
Troien
,
And
Antenorides
—
with
massy
staples
And
corresponsive
and
fulfilling
bolts
,
Spar
up
the
sons
of
Troy
.
Now
expectation
,
tickling
skittish
spirits
On
one
and
other
side
,
Trojan
and
Greek
,
Sets
all
on
hazard
.
And
hither
am
I
come
,
A
prologue
armed
,
but
not
in
confidence
Of
author’s
pen
or
actor’s
voice
,
but
suited
In
like
conditions
as
our
argument
,
To
tell
you
,
fair
beholders
,
that
our
play
Leaps
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
.
Prologue
exits
.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Enter
Pandarus
and
Troilus
.
Call
here
my
varlet
;
I’ll
unarm
again
.
Why
should
I
war
without
the
walls
of
Troy
That
find
such
cruel
battle
here
within
?
Each
Trojan
that
is
master
of
his
heart
,
Let
him
to
field
;
Troilus
,
alas
,
hath
none
.
Will
this
gear
ne’er
be
mended
?
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
unpracticed
infancy
.
Well
,
I
have
told
you
enough
of
this
.
For
my
part
,
I’ll
not
meddle
nor
make
no
farther
.
He
that
will
have
a
cake
out
of
the
wheat
must
tarry
the
grinding
.
Have
I
not
tarried
?
Ay
,
the
grinding
;
but
you
must
tarry
the
bolting
.
Have
I
not
tarried
?
Ay
,
the
bolting
;
but
you
must
tarry
the
leavening
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Still
have
I
tarried
.
Ay
,
to
the
leavening
;
but
here’s
yet
in
the
word
hereafter
the
kneading
,
the
making
of
the
cake
,
the
heating
the
oven
,
and
the
baking
.
Nay
,
you
must
stay
the
cooling
too
,
or
you
may
chance
burn
your
lips
.
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
!
When
she
comes
?
When
is
she
thence
?
Well
,
she
looked
yesternight
fairer
than
ever
I
saw
her
look
,
or
any
woman
else
.
I
was
about
to
tell
thee
:
when
my
heart
,
As
wedgèd
with
a
sigh
,
would
rive
in
twain
,
Lest
Hector
or
my
father
should
perceive
me
,
I
have
,
as
when
the
sun
doth
light
a-scorn
,
Buried
this
sigh
in
wrinkle
of
a
smile
;
But
sorrow
that
is
couched
in
seeming
gladness
Is
like
that
mirth
fate
turns
to
sudden
sadness
.
An
her
hair
were
not
somewhat
darker
than
Helen’s
—
well
,
go
to
—
there
were
no
more
comparison
between
the
women
.
But
,
for
my
part
,
she
is
my
kinswoman
;
I
would
not
,
as
they
term
it
,
praise
her
,
but
I
would
somebody
had
heard
her
talk
yesterday
,
as
I
did
.
I
will
not
dispraise
your
sister
Cassandra’s
wit
,
but
—
O
,
Pandarus
!
I
tell
thee
,
Pandarus
:
When
I
do
tell
thee
there
my
hopes
lie
drowned
,
Reply
not
in
how
many
fathoms
deep
They
lie
indrenched
.
I
tell
thee
I
am
mad
In
Cressid’s
love
.
Thou
answer’st
she
is
fair
;
Pourest
in
the
open
ulcer
of
my
heart
ACT 1. SC. 1
Her
eyes
,
her
hair
,
her
cheek
,
her
gait
,
her
voice
;
Handiest
in
thy
discourse
—
O
—
that
her
hand
,
In
whose
comparison
all
whites
are
ink
Writing
their
own
reproach
,
to
whose
soft
seizure
The
cygnet’s
down
is
harsh
,
and
spirit
of
sense
Hard
as
the
palm
of
plowman
.
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
me
The
knife
that
made
it
.
I
speak
no
more
than
truth
.
Thou
dost
not
speak
so
much
.
Faith
,
I’ll
not
meddle
in
it
.
Let
her
be
as
she
is
.
If
she
be
fair
,
’tis
the
better
for
her
;
an
she
be
not
,
she
has
the
mends
in
her
own
hands
.
Good
Pandarus
—
how
now
,
Pandarus
?
I
have
had
my
labor
for
my
travail
,
ill
thought
on
of
her
,
and
ill
thought
on
of
you
;
gone
between
and
between
,
but
small
thanks
for
my
labor
.
What
,
art
thou
angry
,
Pandarus
?
What
,
with
me
?
Because
she’s
kin
to
me
,
therefore
she’s
not
so
fair
as
Helen
;
an
she
were
not
kin
to
me
,
she
would
be
as
fair
o’
Friday
as
Helen
is
on
Sunday
.
But
what
care
I
?
I
care
not
an
she
were
a
blackamoor
;
’tis
all
one
to
me
.
Say
I
she
is
not
fair
?
I
do
not
care
whether
you
do
or
no
.
She’s
a
fool
to
stay
behind
her
father
.
Let
her
to
the
Greeks
,
and
so
I’ll
tell
her
the
next
time
I
see
her
.
For
my
part
,
I’ll
meddle
nor
make
no
more
i’
th’
matter
.
Pandarus
—
Not
I
.
Sweet
Pandarus
—
Pray
you
speak
no
more
to
me
.
I
will
leave
all
as
I
found
it
,
and
there
an
end
.
He
exits
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Sound
alarum
.
Peace
,
you
ungracious
clamors
!
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
starved
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
wooed
to
woo
As
she
is
stubborn-chaste
against
all
suit
.
Tell
me
,
Apollo
,
for
thy
Daphnes
love
,
What
Cressid
is
,
what
Pandar
,
and
what
we
.
Her
bed
is
India
;
there
she
lies
,
a
pearl
.
Between
our
Ilium
and
where
she
resides
,
Let
it
be
called
the
wild
and
wand’ring
flood
,
Ourself
the
merchant
,
and
this
sailing
Pandar
Our
doubtful
hope
,
our
convoy
,
and
our
bark
.
Alarum
.
Enter
Aeneas
.
How
now
,
Prince
Troilus
?
Wherefore
not
afield
?
Because
not
there
.
This
woman’s
answer
sorts
,
For
womanish
it
is
to
be
from
thence
.
What
news
,
Aeneas
,
from
the
field
today
?
That
Paris
is
returnèd
home
,
and
hurt
.
By
whom
,
Aeneas
?
Troilus
,
by
Menelaus
.
Let
Paris
bleed
.
’Tis
but
a
scar
to
scorn
;
Paris
is
gored
with
Menelaus’
horn
.
Alarum
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Hark
what
good
sport
is
out
of
town
today
!
Better
at
home
,
if
would
I
might
were
may
.
But
to
the
sport
abroad
.
Are
you
bound
thither
?
In
all
swift
haste
.
Come
,
go
we
then
together
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Cressida
and
her
man
Alexander
.
Who
were
those
went
by
?
Queen
Hecuba
and
Helen
.
And
whither
go
they
?
Up
to
the
eastern
tower
,
Whose
height
commands
as
subject
all
the
vale
,
To
see
the
battle
.
Hector
,
whose
patience
Is
as
a
virtue
fixed
,
today
was
moved
.
He
chid
Andromache
and
struck
his
armorer
;
And
,
like
as
there
were
husbandry
in
war
,
Before
the
sun
rose
he
was
harnessed
light
,
And
to
the
field
goes
he
,
where
every
flower
Did
as
a
prophet
weep
what
it
foresaw
In
Hector’s
wrath
.
What
was
his
cause
of
anger
?
The
noise
goes
,
this
:
there
is
among
the
Greeks
A
lord
of
Trojan
blood
,
nephew
to
Hector
.
They
call
him
Ajax
.
Good
;
and
what
of
him
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
They
say
he
is
a
very
man
per
se
And
stands
alone
.
So
do
all
men
unless
they
are
drunk
,
sick
,
or
have
no
legs
.
This
man
,
lady
,
hath
robbed
many
beasts
of
their
particular
additions
.
He
is
as
valiant
as
the
lion
,
churlish
as
the
bear
,
slow
as
the
elephant
,
a
man
into
whom
nature
hath
so
crowded
humors
that
his
valor
is
crushed
into
folly
,
his
folly
sauced
with
discretion
.
There
is
no
man
hath
a
virtue
that
he
hath
not
a
glimpse
of
,
nor
any
man
an
attaint
but
he
carries
some
stain
of
it
.
He
is
melancholy
without
cause
and
merry
against
the
hair
.
He
hath
the
joints
of
everything
,
but
everything
so
out
of
joint
that
he
is
a
gouty
Briareus
,
many
hands
and
no
use
,
or
purblind
Argus
,
all
eyes
and
no
sight
.
But
how
should
this
man
that
makes
me
smile
make
Hector
angry
?
They
say
he
yesterday
coped
Hector
in
the
battle
and
struck
him
down
,
the
disdain
and
shame
whereof
hath
ever
since
kept
Hector
fasting
and
waking
.
Enter
Pandarus
.
Who
comes
here
?
Madam
,
your
Uncle
Pandarus
.
Hector’s
a
gallant
man
.
As
may
be
in
the
world
,
lady
.
What’s
that
?
What’s
that
?
Good
morrow
,
Uncle
Pandarus
.
Good
morrow
,
Cousin
Cressid
.
What
do
you
talk
of
?
—
Good
morrow
,
Alexander
.
—
How
do
you
,
cousin
?
When
were
you
at
Ilium
?
This
morning
,
uncle
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
What
were
you
talking
of
when
I
came
?
Was
Hector
armed
and
gone
ere
you
came
to
Ilium
?
Helen
was
not
up
,
was
she
?
Hector
was
gone
,
but
Helen
was
not
up
.
E’en
so
.
Hector
was
stirring
early
.
That
were
we
talking
of
,
and
of
his
anger
.
Was
he
angry
?
So
he
says
here
.
True
,
he
was
so
.
I
know
the
cause
too
.
He’ll
lay
about
him
today
,
I
can
tell
them
that
;
and
there’s
Troilus
will
not
come
far
behind
him
.
Let
them
take
heed
of
Troilus
,
I
can
tell
them
that
too
.
What
,
is
he
angry
too
?
Who
,
Troilus
?
Troilus
is
the
better
man
of
the
two
.
O
Jupiter
,
there’s
no
comparison
.
What
,
not
between
Troilus
and
Hector
?
Do
you
know
a
man
if
you
see
him
?
Ay
,
if
I
ever
saw
him
before
and
knew
him
.
Well
,
I
say
Troilus
is
Troilus
.
Then
you
say
as
I
say
,
for
I
am
sure
he
is
not
Hector
.
No
,
nor
Hector
is
not
Troilus
in
some
degrees
.
’Tis
just
to
each
of
them
;
he
is
himself
.
Himself
?
Alas
,
poor
Troilus
,
I
would
he
were
.
So
he
is
.
Condition
I
had
gone
barefoot
to
India
.
He
is
not
Hector
.
Himself
?
No
,
he’s
not
himself
.
Would
he
were
himself
!
Well
,
the
gods
are
above
.
Time
must
friend
or
end
.
Well
,
Troilus
,
well
,
I
would
my
heart
were
in
her
body
.
No
,
Hector
is
not
a
better
man
than
Troilus
.
Excuse
me
.
He
is
elder
.
Pardon
me
,
pardon
me
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Th’
other’s
not
come
to
’t
.
You
shall
tell
me
another
tale
when
th’
other’s
come
to
’t
.
Hector
shall
not
have
his
wit
this
year
.
He
shall
not
need
it
,
if
he
have
his
own
.
Nor
his
qualities
.
No
matter
.
Nor
his
beauty
.
’Twould
not
become
him
.
His
own
’s
better
.
You
have
no
judgment
,
niece
.
Helen
herself
swore
th’
other
day
that
Troilus
,
for
a
brown
favor
—
for
so
’tis
,
I
must
confess
—
not
brown
neither
—
No
,
but
brown
.
Faith
,
to
say
truth
,
brown
and
not
brown
.
To
say
the
truth
,
true
and
not
true
.
She
praised
his
complexion
above
Paris’
.
Why
,
Paris
hath
color
enough
.
So
he
has
.
Then
Troilus
should
have
too
much
.
If
she
praised
him
above
,
his
complexion
is
higher
than
his
.
He
having
color
enough
,
and
the
other
higher
,
is
too
flaming
a
praise
for
a
good
complexion
.
I
had
as
lief
Helen’s
golden
tongue
had
commended
Troilus
for
a
copper
nose
.
I
swear
to
you
,
I
think
Helen
loves
him
better
than
Paris
.
Then
she’s
a
merry
Greek
indeed
.
Nay
,
I
am
sure
she
does
.
She
came
to
him
th’
other
day
into
the
compassed
window
—
and
you
know
he
has
not
past
three
or
four
hairs
on
his
chin
—
Indeed
,
a
tapster’s
arithmetic
may
soon
bring
his
particulars
therein
to
a
total
.
Why
,
he
is
very
young
,
and
yet
will
he
within
three
pound
lift
as
much
as
his
brother
Hector
.
Is
he
so
young
a
man
and
so
old
a
lifter
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
But
to
prove
to
you
that
Helen
loves
him
:
she
came
and
puts
me
her
white
hand
to
his
cloven
chin
—
Juno
have
mercy
!
How
came
it
cloven
?
Why
,
you
know
’tis
dimpled
.
I
think
his
smiling
becomes
him
better
than
any
man
in
all
Phrygia
.
O
,
he
smiles
valiantly
.
Does
he
not
?
O
yes
,
an
’twere
a
cloud
in
autumn
.
Why
,
go
to
,
then
.
But
to
prove
to
you
that
Helen
loves
Troilus
—
Troilus
will
stand
to
the
proof
if
you’ll
prove
it
so
.
Troilus
?
Why
,
he
esteems
her
no
more
than
I
esteem
an
addle
egg
.
If
you
love
an
addle
egg
as
well
as
you
love
an
idle
head
,
you
would
eat
chickens
i’
th’
shell
.
I
cannot
choose
but
laugh
to
think
how
she
tickled
his
chin
.
Indeed
,
she
has
a
marvellous
white
hand
,
I
must
needs
confess
—
Without
the
rack
.
And
she
takes
upon
her
to
spy
a
white
hair
on
his
chin
.
Alas
,
poor
chin
!
Many
a
wart
is
richer
.
But
there
was
such
laughing
!
Queen
Hecuba
laughed
that
her
eyes
ran
o’er
—
With
millstones
.
And
Cassandra
laughed
—
But
there
was
a
more
temperate
fire
under
the
pot
of
her
eyes
.
Did
her
eyes
run
o’er
too
?
And
Hector
laughed
.
At
what
was
all
this
laughing
?
Marry
,
at
the
white
hair
that
Helen
spied
on
Troilus’
chin
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
An
’t
had
been
a
green
hair
,
I
should
have
laughed
too
.
They
laughed
not
so
much
at
the
hair
as
at
his
pretty
answer
.
What
was
his
answer
?
Quoth
she
Here’s
but
two-and-fifty
hairs
on
your
chin
,
and
one
of
them
is
white
.
This
is
her
question
.
That’s
true
,
make
no
question
of
that
.
Two-and-fifty
hairs
,
quoth
he
,
and
one
white
.
That
white
hair
is
my
father
,
and
all
the
rest
are
his
sons
.
Jupiter
!
quoth
she
,
which
of
these
hairs
is
Paris
,
my
husband
?
The
forked
one
,
quoth
he
.
Pluck
’t
out
,
and
give
it
him
.
But
there
was
such
laughing
,
and
Helen
so
blushed
,
and
Paris
so
chafed
,
and
all
the
rest
so
laughed
that
it
passed
.
So
let
it
now
,
for
it
has
been
a
great
while
going
by
.
Well
,
cousin
,
I
told
you
a
thing
yesterday
.
Think
on
’t
.
So
I
do
.
I’ll
be
sworn
’tis
true
.
He
will
weep
you
an
’twere
a
man
born
in
April
.
And
I’ll
spring
up
in
his
tears
an
’twere
a
nettle
against
May
.
Sound
a
retreat
.
Hark
,
they
are
coming
from
the
field
.
Shall
we
stand
up
here
and
see
them
as
they
pass
toward
Ilium
?
Good
niece
,
do
,
sweet
niece
Cressida
.
At
your
pleasure
.
Here
,
here
,
here’s
an
excellent
place
.
Here
we
may
see
most
bravely
.
I’ll
tell
you
them
all
by
their
names
as
they
pass
by
,
but
mark
Troilus
above
the
rest
.
They
cross
the
stage
;
Alexander
exits
.
Speak
not
so
loud
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Enter
Aeneas
and
crosses
the
stage
.
That’s
Aeneas
.
Is
not
that
a
brave
man
?
He’s
one
of
the
flowers
of
Troy
,
I
can
tell
you
.
But
mark
Troilus
;
you
shall
see
anon
.
Enter
Antenor
and
crosses
the
stage
.
Who’s
that
?
That’s
Antenor
.
He
has
a
shrewd
wit
,
I
can
tell
you
,
and
he’s
a
man
good
enough
.
He’s
one
o’
th’
soundest
judgments
in
Troy
whosoever
;
and
a
proper
man
of
person
.
When
comes
Troilus
?
I’ll
show
you
Troilus
anon
.
If
he
see
me
,
you
shall
see
him
nod
at
me
.
Will
he
give
you
the
nod
?
You
shall
see
.
If
he
do
,
the
rich
shall
have
more
.
Enter
Hector
and
crosses
the
stage
.
That’s
Hector
,
that
,
that
,
look
you
,
that
.
There’s
a
fellow
!
—
Go
thy
way
,
Hector
!
—
There’s
a
brave
man
,
niece
.
O
brave
Hector
!
Look
how
he
looks
.
There’s
a
countenance
!
Is
’t
not
a
brave
man
?
O
,
a
brave
man
!
Is
he
not
?
It
does
a
man’s
heart
good
.
Look
you
what
hacks
are
on
his
helmet
.
Look
you
yonder
,
do
you
see
?
Look
you
there
.
There’s
no
jesting
;
there’s
laying
on
,
take
’t
off
who
will
,
as
they
say
.
There
be
hacks
.
Be
those
with
swords
?
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
.
Enter
Paris
and
crosses
the
stage
.
Yonder
comes
Paris
,
yonder
comes
Paris
!
Look
you
yonder
,
niece
.
Is
’t
not
a
gallant
man
too
?
Is
’t
not
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
Why
,
this
is
brave
now
.
Who
said
he
came
hurt
home
today
?
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
.
Enter
Helenus
and
crosses
the
stage
.
Who’s
that
?
That’s
Helenus
.
I
marvel
where
Troilus
is
.
That’s
Helenus
.
I
think
he
went
not
forth
today
.
That’s
Helenus
.
Can
Helenus
fight
,
uncle
?
Helenus
?
No
.
Yes
,
he’ll
fight
indifferent
well
.
I
marvel
where
Troilus
is
.
Hark
,
do
you
not
hear
the
people
cry
Troilus
?
Helenus
is
a
priest
.
Enter
Troilus
and
crosses
the
stage
.
What
sneaking
fellow
comes
yonder
?
Where
?
Yonder
?
That’s
Deiphobus
.
’Tis
Troilus
!
There’s
a
man
,
niece
.
Hem
!
Brave
Troilus
,
the
prince
of
chivalry
!
Peace
,
for
shame
,
peace
.
Mark
him
.
Note
him
.
O
brave
Troilus
!
Look
well
upon
him
,
niece
.
Look
you
how
his
sword
is
bloodied
and
his
helm
more
hacked
than
Hector’s
,
and
how
he
looks
,
and
how
he
goes
.
O
admirable
youth
!
He
never
saw
three
and
twenty
.
—
Go
thy
way
,
Troilus
;
go
thy
way
!
—
Had
I
a
sister
were
a
Grace
,
or
a
daughter
a
goddess
,
he
should
take
his
choice
.
O
admirable
man
!
Paris
?
Paris
is
dirt
to
him
;
and
I
warrant
Helen
,
to
change
,
would
give
an
eye
to
boot
.
Enter
Common
Soldiers
and
cross
the
stage
.
Here
comes
more
.
Asses
,
fools
,
dolts
,
chaff
and
bran
,
chaff
and
bran
,
porridge
after
meat
.
I
could
live
and
die
in
ACT 1. SC. 2
the
eyes
of
Troilus
.
Ne’er
look
,
ne’er
look
;
the
eagles
are
gone
.
Crows
and
daws
,
crows
and
daws
!
I
had
rather
be
such
a
man
as
Troilus
than
Agamemnon
and
all
Greece
.
There
is
amongst
the
Greeks
Achilles
,
a
better
man
than
Troilus
.
Achilles
?
A
drayman
,
a
porter
,
a
very
camel
!
Well
,
well
.
Well
,
well
?
Why
,
have
you
any
discretion
?
Have
you
any
eyes
?
Do
you
know
what
a
man
is
?
Is
not
birth
,
beauty
,
good
shape
,
discourse
,
manhood
,
learning
,
gentleness
,
virtue
,
youth
,
liberality
and
such-like
the
spice
and
salt
that
season
a
man
?
Ay
,
a
minced
man
;
and
then
to
be
baked
with
no
date
in
the
pie
,
for
then
the
man’s
date
is
out
.
You
are
such
a
woman
a
man
knows
not
at
what
ward
you
lie
.
Upon
my
back
to
defend
my
belly
,
upon
my
wit
to
defend
my
wiles
,
upon
my
secrecy
to
defend
mine
honesty
,
my
mask
to
defend
my
beauty
,
and
you
to
defend
all
these
;
and
at
all
these
wards
I
lie
,
at
a
thousand
watches
.
Say
one
of
your
watches
.
Nay
,
I’ll
watch
you
for
that
,
and
that’s
one
of
the
chiefest
of
them
too
.
If
I
cannot
ward
what
I
would
not
have
hit
,
I
can
watch
you
for
telling
how
I
took
the
blow
—
unless
it
swell
past
hiding
,
and
then
it’s
past
watching
.
You
are
such
another
!
Enter
Troilus’s
Boy
.
Sir
,
my
lord
would
instantly
speak
with
you
.
Where
?
At
your
own
house
.
There
he
unarms
him
.
Good
boy
,
tell
him
I
come
.
Boy
exits
.
I
doubt
he
be
hurt
.
—
Fare
you
well
,
good
niece
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Adieu
,
uncle
.
I
will
be
with
you
,
niece
,
by
and
by
.
To
bring
,
uncle
?
Ay
,
a
token
from
Troilus
.
By
the
same
token
,
you
are
a
bawd
.
Pandarus
exits
.
Words
,
vows
,
gifts
,
tears
,
and
love’s
full
sacrifice
He
offers
in
another’s
enterprise
;
But
more
in
Troilus
thousandfold
I
see
Than
in
the
glass
of
Pandar’s
praise
may
be
.
Yet
hold
I
off
.
Women
are
angels
,
wooing
;
Things
won
are
done
;
joy’s
soul
lies
in
the
doing
.
That
she
beloved
knows
naught
that
knows
not
this
:
Men
prize
the
thing
ungained
more
than
it
is
.
That
she
was
never
yet
that
ever
knew
Love
got
so
sweet
as
when
desire
did
sue
.
Therefore
this
maxim
out
of
love
I
teach
:
Achievement
is
command
;
ungained
,
beseech
.
Then
though
my
heart’s
content
firm
love
doth
bear
,
Nothing
of
that
shall
from
mine
eyes
appear
.
She
exits
.
Scene
3
Sennet
.
Enter
Agamemnon
,
Nestor
,
Ulysses
,
Diomedes
,
Menelaus
,
with
others
.
Princes
,
what
grief
hath
set
the
jaundice
o’er
your
cheeks
?
The
ample
proposition
that
hope
makes
In
all
designs
begun
on
Earth
earth
below
Fails
in
the
promised
largeness
.
Checks
and
disasters
Grow
in
the
veins
of
actions
highest
reared
,
As
knots
,
by
the
conflux
of
meeting
sap
,
Infects
the
sound
pine
and
diverts
his
grain
ACT 1. SC. 3
Tortive
and
errant
from
his
course
of
growth
.
Nor
,
princes
,
is
it
matter
new
to
us
That
we
come
short
of
our
suppose
so
far
That
after
seven
years’
siege
yet
Troy
walls
stand
,
Sith
every
action
that
hath
gone
before
,
Whereof
we
have
record
,
trial
did
draw
Bias
and
thwart
,
not
answering
the
aim
And
that
unbodied
figure
of
the
thought
That
gave
’t
surmisèd
shape
.
Why
then
,
you
princes
,
Do
you
with
cheeks
abashed
behold
our
works
And
call
them
shames
,
which
are
indeed
naught
else
But
the
protractive
trials
of
great
Jove
To
find
persistive
constancy
in
men
?
The
fineness
of
which
metal
is
not
found
In
Fortune’s
love
;
for
then
the
bold
and
coward
,
The
wise
and
fool
,
the
artist
and
unread
,
The
hard
and
soft
seem
all
affined
and
kin
.
But
in
the
wind
and
tempest
of
her
frown
,
Distinction
,
with
a
broad
and
powerful
fan
,
Puffing
at
all
,
winnows
the
light
away
,
And
what
hath
mass
or
matter
by
itself
Lies
rich
in
virtue
and
unmingled
.
With
due
observance
of
thy
godlike
seat
,
Great
Agamemnon
,
Nestor
shall
apply
Thy
latest
words
.
In
the
reproof
of
chance
Lies
the
true
proof
of
men
.
The
sea
being
smooth
,
How
many
shallow
bauble
boats
dare
sail
Upon
her
patient
breast
,
making
their
way
With
those
of
nobler
bulk
!
But
let
the
ruffian
Boreas
once
enrage
The
gentle
Thetis
,
and
anon
behold
The
strong-ribbed
bark
through
liquid
mountains
cut
,
Bounding
between
the
two
moist
elements
,
Like
Perseus’
horse
.
Where’s
then
the
saucy
boat
Whose
weak
untimbered
sides
but
even
now
ACT 1. SC. 3
Corrivaled
greatness
?
Either
to
harbor
fled
Or
made
a
toast
for
Neptune
.
Even
so
Doth
valor’s
show
and
valor’s
worth
divide
In
storms
of
Fortune
.
For
in
her
ray
and
brightness
The
herd
hath
more
annoyance
by
the
breese
Than
by
the
tiger
,
but
when
the
splitting
wind
Makes
flexible
the
knees
of
knotted
oaks
,
And
flies
flee
under
shade
,
why
,
then
the
thing
of
courage
,
As
roused
with
rage
,
with
rage
doth
sympathize
,
And
with
an
accent
tuned
in
selfsame
key
Retorts
to
chiding
Fortune
.
Agamemnon
,
Thou
great
commander
,
nerves
and
bone
of
Greece
,
Heart
of
our
numbers
,
soul
and
only
sprite
,
In
whom
the
tempers
and
the
minds
of
all
Should
be
shut
up
,
hear
what
Ulysses
speaks
.
Besides
th’
applause
and
approbation
,
The
which
,
(
to
Agamemnon
)
most
mighty
for
thy
place
and
sway
,
(
To
Nestor
)
And
thou
most
reverend
for
thy
stretched-out
life
,
I
give
to
both
your
speeches
,
which
were
such
As
Agamemnon
and
the
hand
of
Greece
Should
hold
up
high
in
brass
;
and
such
again
As
venerable
Nestor
,
hatched
in
silver
,
Should
with
a
bond
of
air
,
strong
as
the
axletree
On
which
heaven
rides
,
knit
all
the
Greekish
ears
To
his
experienced
tongue
,
yet
let
it
please
both
,
Thou
great
,
and
wise
,
to
hear
Ulysses
speak
.
Speak
,
Prince
of
Ithaca
,
and
be
’t
of
less
expect
That
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
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Troy
,
yet
upon
his
basis
,
had
been
down
,
And
the
great
Hector’s
sword
had
lacked
a
master
But
for
these
instances
:
The
specialty
of
rule
hath
been
neglected
,
And
look
how
many
Grecian
tents
do
stand
Hollow
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
center
Observe
degree
,
priority
,
and
place
,
Insisture
,
course
,
proportion
,
season
,
form
,
Office
,
and
custom
,
in
all
line
of
order
.
And
therefore
is
the
glorious
planet
Sol
In
noble
eminence
enthroned
and
sphered
Amidst
the
other
,
whose
med’cinable
eye
Corrects
the
influence
of
evil
planets
,
And
posts
,
like
the
commandment
of
a
king
,
Sans
check
,
to
good
and
bad
.
But
when
the
planets
In
evil
mixture
to
disorder
wander
,
What
plagues
and
what
portents
,
what
mutiny
,
What
raging
of
the
sea
,
shaking
of
Earth
earth
,
Commotion
in
the
winds
,
frights
,
changes
,
horrors
Divert
and
crack
,
rend
and
deracinate
The
unity
and
married
calm
of
states
Quite
from
their
fixture
!
O
,
when
degree
is
shaked
,
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
primogeneity
and
due
of
birth
,
Prerogative
of
age
,
crowns
,
scepters
,
laurels
,
But
by
degree
stand
in
authentic
place
?
Take
but
degree
away
,
untune
that
string
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
And
hark
what
discord
follows
.
Each
thing
meets
In
mere
oppugnancy
.
The
bounded
waters
Should
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
is
That
by
a
pace
goes
backward
,
with
a
purpose
It
hath
to
climb
.
The
General’s
disdained
By
him
one
step
below
,
he
by
the
next
,
That
next
by
him
beneath
;
so
every
step
,
Exampled
by
the
first
pace
that
is
sick
Of
his
superior
,
grows
to
an
envious
fever
Of
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
.
Most
wisely
hath
Ulysses
here
discovered
The
fever
whereof
all
our
power
is
sick
.
The
nature
of
the
sickness
found
,
Ulysses
,
What
is
the
remedy
?
The
great
Achilles
,
whom
opinion
crowns
ACT 1. SC. 3
The
sinew
and
the
forehand
of
our
host
,
Having
his
ear
full
of
his
airy
fame
,
Grows
dainty
of
his
worth
and
in
his
tent
Lies
mocking
our
designs
.
With
him
Patroclus
,
Upon
a
lazy
bed
,
the
live-long
day
Breaks
scurril
jests
,
And
with
ridiculous
and
silly
action
,
Which
,
slanderer
,
he
imitation
calls
,
He
pageants
us
.
Sometime
,
great
Agamemnon
,
Thy
topless
deputation
he
puts
on
,
And
,
like
a
strutting
player
whose
conceit
Lies
in
his
hamstring
and
doth
think
it
rich
To
hear
the
wooden
dialogue
and
sound
’Twixt
his
stretched
footing
and
the
scaffollage
,
Such
to-be-pitied
and
o’erwrested
seeming
He
acts
thy
greatness
in
;
and
when
he
speaks
,
’Tis
like
a
chime
a-mending
,
with
terms
unsquared
Which
from
the
tongue
of
roaring
Typhon
dropped
Would
seem
hyperboles
.
At
this
fusty
stuff
,
The
large
Achilles
,
on
his
pressed
bed
lolling
,
From
his
deep
chest
laughs
out
a
loud
applause
,
Cries
Excellent
!
’Tis
Agamemnon
right
.
Now
play
me
Nestor
;
hem
and
stroke
thy
beard
,
As
he
being
dressed
to
some
oration
.
That’s
done
,
as
near
as
the
extremest
ends
Of
parallels
,
as
like
as
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
age
Must
be
the
scene
of
mirth
—
to
cough
and
spit
,
And
,
with
a
palsy
fumbling
on
his
gorget
,
Shake
in
and
out
the
rivet
.
And
at
this
sport
Sir
Valor
dies
,
cries
O
,
enough
,
Patroclus
,
Or
give
me
ribs
of
steel
!
I
shall
split
all
In
pleasure
of
my
spleen
.
And
in
this
fashion
,
All
our
abilities
,
gifts
,
natures
,
shapes
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
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
,
serves
As
stuff
for
these
two
to
make
paradoxes
.
And
in
the
imitation
of
these
twain
,
Who
,
as
Ulysses
says
,
opinion
crowns
With
an
imperial
voice
,
many
are
infect
:
Ajax
is
grown
self-willed
and
bears
his
head
In
such
a
rein
,
in
full
as
proud
a
place
As
broad
Achilles
;
keeps
his
tent
like
him
,
Makes
factious
feasts
;
rails
on
our
state
of
war
,
Bold
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
.
They
tax
our
policy
and
call
it
cowardice
,
Count
wisdom
as
no
member
of
the
war
,
Forestall
prescience
,
and
esteem
no
act
But
that
of
hand
.
The
still
and
mental
parts
That
do
contrive
how
many
hands
shall
strike
When
fitness
calls
them
on
and
know
by
measure
Of
their
observant
toil
the
enemy’s
weight
—
Why
,
this
hath
not
a
fingers
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
souls
By
reason
guide
his
execution
.
Let
this
be
granted
,
and
Achilles’
horse
Makes
many
Thetis’
sons
.
Tucket
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
What
trumpet
?
Look
,
Menelaus
.
From
Troy
.
Enter
Aeneas
,
with
a
Trumpeter
.
What
would
you
’fore
our
tent
?
Is
this
great
Agamemnon’s
tent
,
I
pray
you
?
Even
this
.
May
one
that
is
a
herald
and
a
prince
Do
a
fair
message
to
his
kingly
eyes
?
With
surety
stronger
than
Achilles’
arm
’Fore
all
the
Greekish
host
,
which
with
one
voice
Call
Agamemnon
head
and
general
.
Fair
leave
and
large
security
.
How
may
A
stranger
to
those
most
imperial
looks
Know
them
from
eyes
of
other
mortals
?
How
?
Ay
.
I
ask
that
I
might
waken
reverence
And
bid
the
cheek
be
ready
with
a
blush
Modest
as
morning
when
she
coldly
eyes
The
youthful
Phoebus
.
Which
is
that
god
in
office
,
guiding
men
?
Which
is
the
high
and
mighty
Agamemnon
?
This
Trojan
scorns
us
,
or
the
men
of
Troy
Are
ceremonious
courtiers
.
Courtiers
as
free
,
as
debonair
,
unarmed
,
As
bending
angels
—
that’s
their
fame
in
peace
.
But
when
they
would
seem
soldiers
,
they
have
galls
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
Good
arms
,
strong
joints
,
true
swords
,
and
—
great
Jove’s
accord
—
Nothing
so
full
of
heart
.
But
peace
,
Aeneas
.
Peace
,
Trojan
.
Lay
thy
finger
on
thy
lips
.
The
worthiness
of
praise
distains
his
worth
If
that
the
praised
himself
bring
the
praise
forth
.
But
what
the
repining
enemy
commends
,
That
breath
fame
blows
;
that
praise
,
sole
pure
,
transcends
.
Sir
,
you
of
Troy
,
call
you
yourself
Aeneas
?
Ay
,
Greek
,
that
is
my
name
.
What’s
your
affair
,
I
pray
you
?
Sir
,
pardon
.
’Tis
for
Agamemnon’s
ears
.
He
hears
naught
privately
that
comes
from
Troy
.
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
.
Speak
frankly
as
the
wind
;
It
is
not
Agamemnon’s
sleeping
hour
.
That
thou
shalt
know
,
Trojan
,
he
is
awake
,
He
tells
thee
so
himself
.
Trumpet
,
blow
loud
!
Send
thy
brass
voice
through
all
these
lazy
tents
;
And
every
Greek
of
mettle
,
let
him
know
What
Troy
means
fairly
shall
be
spoke
aloud
.
Sound
trumpet
.
We
have
,
great
Agamemnon
,
here
in
Troy
A
prince
called
Hector
—
Priam
is
his
father
—
Who
in
this
dull
and
long-continued
truce
Is
resty
grown
.
He
bade
me
take
a
trumpet
And
to
this
purpose
speak
:
Kings
,
princes
,
lords
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
If
there
be
one
among
the
fair’st
of
Greece
That
holds
his
honor
higher
than
his
ease
,
That
seeks
his
praise
more
than
he
fears
his
peril
,
That
knows
his
valor
and
knows
not
his
fear
,
That
loves
his
mistress
more
than
in
confession
With
truant
vows
to
her
own
lips
he
loves
And
dare
avow
her
beauty
and
her
worth
In
other
arms
than
hers
—
to
him
this
challenge
.
Hector
,
in
view
of
Trojans
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
tomorrow
with
his
trumpet
call
,
Midway
between
your
tents
and
walls
of
Troy
,
To
rouse
a
Grecian
that
is
true
in
love
.
If
any
come
,
Hector
shall
honor
him
;
If
none
,
he’ll
say
in
Troy
when
he
retires
The
Grecian
dames
are
sunburnt
and
not
worth
The
splinter
of
a
lance
.
Even
so
much
.
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
prove
That
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
.
,
to
Aeneas
Tell
him
of
Nestor
,
one
that
was
a
man
When
Hector’s
grandsire
sucked
.
He
is
old
now
,
But
if
there
be
not
in
our
Grecian
host
A
noble
man
that
hath
one
spark
of
fire
To
answer
for
his
love
,
tell
him
from
me
I’ll
hide
my
silver
beard
in
a
gold
beaver
And
in
my
vambrace
put
my
withered
brawns
And
,
meeting
him
,
will
tell
him
that
my
lady
ACT 1. SC. 3
Was
fairer
than
his
grandam
and
as
chaste
As
may
be
in
the
world
.
His
youth
in
flood
,
I’ll
prove
this
troth
with
my
three
drops
of
blood
.
Now
heavens
forfend
such
scarcity
of
youth
!
Amen
.
Fair
Lord
Aeneas
,
let
me
touch
your
hand
.
To
our
pavilion
shall
I
lead
you
,
sir
.
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
.
All
but
Ulysses
and
Nestor
exit
.
Nestor
.
What
says
Ulysses
?
I
have
a
young
conception
in
my
brain
;
Be
you
my
time
to
bring
it
to
some
shape
.
What
is
’t
?
This
’tis
:
Blunt
wedges
rive
hard
knots
;
the
seeded
pride
That
hath
to
this
maturity
blown
up
In
rank
Achilles
must
or
now
be
cropped
Or
,
shedding
,
breed
a
nursery
of
like
evil
To
overbulk
us
all
.
Well
,
and
how
?
This
challenge
that
the
gallant
Hector
sends
,
However
it
is
spread
in
general
name
,
Relates
in
purpose
only
to
Achilles
.
True
.
The
purpose
is
perspicuous
as
substance
Whose
grossness
little
characters
sum
up
;
And
,
in
the
publication
,
make
no
strain
But
that
Achilles
,
were
his
brain
as
barren
ACT 1. SC. 3
As
banks
of
Libya
—
though
,
Apollo
knows
,
’Tis
dry
enough
—
will
,
with
great
speed
of
judgment
,
Ay
,
with
celerity
,
find
Hector’s
purpose
Pointing
on
him
.
And
wake
him
to
the
answer
,
think
you
?
Why
,
’tis
most
meet
.
Who
may
you
else
oppose
That
can
from
Hector
bring
his
honor
off
If
not
Achilles
?
Though
’t
be
a
sportful
combat
,
Yet
in
the
trial
much
opinion
dwells
,
For
here
the
Trojans
taste
our
dear’st
repute
With
their
fin’st
palate
.
And
,
trust
to
me
,
Ulysses
,
Our
imputation
shall
be
oddly
poised
In
this
vile
action
.
For
the
success
,
Although
particular
,
shall
give
a
scantling
Of
good
or
bad
unto
the
general
;
And
in
such
indexes
,
although
small
pricks
To
their
subsequent
volumes
,
there
is
seen
The
baby
figure
of
the
giant
mass
Of
things
to
come
at
large
.
It
is
supposed
He
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
distilled
Out
of
our
virtues
,
who
,
miscarrying
,
What
heart
receives
from
hence
a
conquering
part
To
steel
a
strong
opinion
to
themselves
?
—
Which
entertained
,
limbs
are
his
instruments
,
In
no
less
working
than
are
swords
and
bows
Directive
by
the
limbs
.
Give
pardon
to
my
speech
:
therefore
’tis
meet
Achilles
meet
not
Hector
.
Let
us
like
merchants
First
show
foul
wares
and
think
perchance
they’ll
sell
;
If
not
,
the
luster
of
the
better
shall
exceed
By
showing
the
worse
first
.
Do
not
consent
ACT 1. SC. 3
That
ever
Hector
and
Achilles
meet
,
For
both
our
honor
and
our
shame
in
this
Are
dogged
with
two
strange
followers
.
I
see
them
not
with
my
old
eyes
.
What
are
they
?
What
glory
our
Achilles
shares
from
Hector
,
Were
he
not
proud
,
we
all
should
share
with
him
;
But
he
already
is
too
insolent
,
And
it
were
better
parch
in
Afric
sun
Than
in
the
pride
and
salt
scorn
of
his
eyes
Should
he
scape
Hector
fair
.
If
he
were
foiled
,
Why
then
we
do
our
main
opinion
crush
In
taint
of
our
best
man
.
No
,
make
a
lott’ry
,
And
,
by
device
,
let
blockish
Ajax
draw
The
sort
to
fight
with
Hector
.
Among
ourselves
Give
him
allowance
for
the
better
man
,
For
that
will
physic
the
great
Myrmidon
,
Who
broils
in
loud
applause
,
and
make
him
fall
His
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
still
That
we
have
better
men
.
But
,
hit
or
miss
,
Our
project’s
life
this
shape
of
sense
assumes
:
Ajax
employed
plucks
down
Achilles’
plumes
.
Now
,
Ulysses
,
I
begin
to
relish
thy
advice
,
And
I
will
give
a
taste
thereof
forthwith
To
Agamemnon
.
Go
we
to
him
straight
.
Two
curs
shall
tame
each
other
;
pride
alone
Must
tar
the
mastiffs
on
,
as
’twere
a
bone
.
They
exit
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Enter
Ajax
and
Thersites
.
Thersites
!
Agamemnon
—
how
if
he
had
boils
,
full
,
all
over
,
generally
?
Thersites
!
And
those
boils
did
run
?
Say
so
.
Did
not
the
general
run
,
then
?
Were
not
that
a
botchy
core
?
Dog
!
Then
there
would
come
some
matter
from
him
.
I
see
none
now
.
Thou
bitchwolf’s
son
,
canst
thou
not
hear
?
Feel
,
then
.
Strikes
him
.
The
plague
of
Greece
upon
thee
,
thou
mongrel
beef-witted
lord
!
Speak
,
then
,
thou
unsalted
leaven
,
speak
.
I
will
beat
thee
into
handsomeness
.
I
shall
sooner
rail
thee
into
wit
and
holiness
,
but
I
think
thy
horse
will
sooner
con
an
oration
than
thou
learn
a
prayer
without
book
.
Thou
canst
strike
,
canst
thou
?
A
red
murrain
o’
thy
jade’s
tricks
.
Toadstool
,
learn
me
the
proclamation
.
Dost
thou
think
I
have
no
sense
,
thou
strikest
me
thus
?
The
proclamation
!
Thou
art
proclaimed
a
fool
,
I
think
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
Do
not
,
porpentine
,
do
not
.
My
fingers
itch
.
I
would
thou
didst
itch
from
head
to
foot
,
and
I
had
the
scratching
of
thee
;
I
would
make
thee
the
loathsomest
scab
in
Greece
.
When
thou
art
forth
in
the
incursions
,
thou
strikest
as
slow
as
another
.
I
say
,
the
proclamation
!
Thou
grumblest
and
railest
every
hour
on
Achilles
,
and
thou
art
as
full
of
envy
at
his
greatness
as
Cerberus
is
at
Proserpina’s
beauty
,
ay
,
that
thou
bark’st
at
him
.
Mistress
Thersites
!
Thou
shouldst
strike
him
—
Cobloaf
!
He
would
pound
thee
into
shivers
with
his
fist
as
a
sailor
breaks
a
biscuit
.
You
whoreson
cur
!
Strikes
him
.
Do
,
do
.
Thou
stool
for
a
witch
!
Ay
,
do
,
do
,
thou
sodden-witted
lord
.
Thou
hast
no
more
brain
than
I
have
in
mine
elbows
;
an
asinego
may
tutor
thee
,
thou
scurvy-valiant
ass
.
Thou
art
here
but
to
thrash
Trojans
,
and
thou
art
bought
and
sold
among
those
of
any
wit
,
like
a
barbarian
slave
.
If
thou
use
to
beat
me
,
I
will
begin
at
thy
heel
and
tell
what
thou
art
by
inches
,
thou
thing
of
no
bowels
,
thou
.
You
dog
!
You
scurvy
lord
!
You
cur
!
Strikes
him
.
Mars
his
idiot
!
Do
,
rudeness
,
do
,
camel
,
do
,
do
.
Enter
Achilles
and
Patroclus
.
Why
,
how
now
,
Ajax
?
Wherefore
do
you
thus
?
—
How
now
,
Thersites
?
What’s
the
matter
,
man
?
ACT 2. SC. 1
You
see
him
there
,
do
you
?
Ay
,
what’s
the
matter
?
Nay
,
look
upon
him
.
So
I
do
.
What’s
the
matter
?
Nay
,
but
regard
him
well
.
Well
,
why
,
so
I
do
.
But
yet
you
look
not
well
upon
him
,
for
whosomever
you
take
him
to
be
,
he
is
Ajax
.
I
know
that
,
fool
.
Ay
,
but
that
fool
knows
not
himself
.
Therefore
I
beat
thee
.
Lo
,
lo
,
lo
,
lo
,
what
modicums
of
wit
he
utters
!
His
evasions
have
ears
thus
long
.
I
have
bobbed
his
brain
more
than
he
has
beat
my
bones
.
I
will
buy
nine
sparrows
for
a
penny
,
and
his
pia
mater
is
not
worth
the
ninth
part
of
a
sparrow
.
This
lord
,
Achilles
—
Ajax
,
who
wears
his
wit
in
his
belly
,
and
his
guts
in
his
head
—
I’ll
tell
you
what
I
say
of
him
.
What
?
I
say
,
this
Ajax
—
Ajax
menaces
him
.
Nay
,
good
Ajax
.
Has
not
so
much
wit
—
,
to
Ajax
Nay
,
I
must
hold
you
.
As
will
stop
the
eye
of
Helen’s
needle
,
for
whom
he
comes
to
fight
.
Peace
,
fool
!
I
would
have
peace
and
quietness
,
but
the
fool
will
not
—
he
there
,
that
he
.
Look
you
there
.
O
,
thou
damned
cur
,
I
shall
—
Will
you
set
your
wit
to
a
fool’s
?
No
,
I
warrant
you
.
The
fool’s
will
shame
it
.
Good
words
,
Thersites
.
,
to
Ajax
What’s
the
quarrel
?
I
bade
the
vile
owl
go
learn
me
the
tenor
of
the
proclamation
,
and
he
rails
upon
me
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
I
serve
thee
not
.
Well
,
go
to
,
go
to
.
I
serve
here
voluntary
.
Your
last
service
was
suff’rance
;
’twas
not
voluntary
.
No
man
is
beaten
voluntary
.
Ajax
was
here
the
voluntary
,
and
you
as
under
an
impress
.
E’en
so
.
A
great
deal
of
your
wit
,
too
,
lies
in
your
sinews
,
or
else
there
be
liars
.
Hector
shall
have
a
great
catch
an
he
knock
out
either
of
your
brains
;
he
were
as
good
crack
a
fusty
nut
with
no
kernel
.
What
,
with
me
too
,
Thersites
?
There’s
Ulysses
and
old
Nestor
—
whose
wit
was
moldy
ere
your
grandsires
had
nails
on
their
toes
—
yoke
you
like
draft-oxen
and
make
you
plow
up
the
wars
.
What
?
What
?
Yes
,
good
sooth
.
To
,
Achilles
!
To
,
Ajax
!
To
—
I
shall
cut
out
your
tongue
.
’Tis
no
matter
.
I
shall
speak
as
much
as
thou
afterwards
.
No
more
words
,
Thersites
.
Peace
.
I
will
hold
my
peace
when
Achilles’
brach
bids
me
,
shall
I
?
There’s
for
you
,
Patroclus
.
I
will
see
you
hanged
like
clodpolls
ere
I
come
any
more
to
your
tents
.
I
will
keep
where
there
is
wit
stirring
and
leave
the
faction
of
fools
.
He
exits
.
A
good
riddance
.
,
to
Ajax
Marry
,
this
,
sir
,
is
proclaimed
through
all
our
host
:
That
Hector
,
by
the
fifth
hour
of
the
sun
,
Will
with
a
trumpet
’twixt
our
tents
and
Troy
Tomorrow
morning
call
some
knight
to
arms
That
hath
a
stomach
,
and
such
a
one
that
dare
Maintain
—
I
know
not
what
;
’tis
trash
.
Farewell
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Farewell
.
Who
shall
answer
him
?
I
know
not
.
’Tis
put
to
lott’ry
.
Otherwise
,
He
knew
his
man
.
Achilles
and
Patroclus
exit
.
O
,
meaning
you
?
I
will
go
learn
more
of
it
.
He
exits
.
Scene
2
Enter
Priam
,
Hector
,
Troilus
,
Paris
and
Helenas
.
After
so
many
hours
,
lives
,
speeches
spent
,
Thus
once
again
says
Nestor
from
the
Greeks
:
Deliver
Helen
,
and
all
damage
else
—
As
honor
,
loss
of
time
,
travel
,
expense
,
Wounds
,
friends
,
and
what
else
dear
that
is
consumed
In
hot
digestion
of
this
cormorant
war
—
Shall
be
struck
off
.
—
Hector
,
what
say
you
to
’t
?
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
called
The
beacon
of
the
wise
,
the
tent
that
searches
To
th’
bottom
of
the
worst
.
Let
Helen
go
.
Since
the
first
sword
was
drawn
about
this
question
,
Every
tithe
soul
,
’mongst
many
thousand
dismes
,
Hath
been
as
dear
as
Helen
;
I
mean
,
of
ours
.
If
we
have
lost
so
many
tenths
of
ours
To
guard
a
thing
not
ours
—
nor
worth
to
us
,
Had
it
our
name
,
the
value
of
one
ten
—
ACT 2. SC. 2
What
merit’s
in
that
reason
which
denies
The
yielding
of
her
up
?
Fie
,
fie
,
my
brother
,
Weigh
you
the
worth
and
honor
of
a
king
So
great
as
our
dread
father’s
in
a
scale
Of
common
ounces
?
Will
you
with
counters
sum
The
past-proportion
of
his
infinite
,
And
buckle
in
a
waist
most
fathomless
With
spans
and
inches
so
diminutive
As
fears
and
reasons
?
Fie
,
for
godly
shame
!
No
marvel
though
you
bite
so
sharp
at
reasons
,
You
are
so
empty
of
them
.
Should
not
our
father
Bear
the
great
sway
of
his
affairs
with
reason
,
Because
your
speech
hath
none
that
tell
him
so
?
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
employed
is
perilous
,
And
reason
flies
the
object
of
all
harm
.
Who
marvels
,
then
,
when
Helenus
beholds
A
Grecian
and
his
sword
,
if
he
do
set
The
very
wings
of
reason
to
his
heels
And
fly
like
chidden
Mercury
from
Jove
Or
like
a
star
disorbed
?
Nay
,
if
we
talk
of
reason
,
Let’s
shut
our
gates
and
sleep
.
Manhood
and
honor
Should
have
hare
hearts
,
would
they
but
fat
their
thoughts
With
this
crammed
reason
.
Reason
and
respect
Make
livers
pale
and
lustihood
deject
.
Brother
,
she
is
not
worth
what
she
doth
cost
The
keeping
.
What’s
aught
but
as
’tis
valued
?
ACT 2. SC. 2
But
value
dwells
not
in
particular
will
;
It
holds
his
estimate
and
dignity
As
well
wherein
’tis
precious
of
itself
As
in
the
prizer
.
’Tis
mad
idolatry
To
make
the
service
greater
than
the
god
;
And
the
will
dotes
that
is
attributive
To
what
infectiously
itself
affects
Without
some
image
of
th’
affected
merit
.
I
take
today
a
wife
,
and
my
election
Is
led
on
in
the
conduct
of
my
will
—
My
will
enkindled
by
mine
eyes
and
ears
,
Two
traded
pilots
’twixt
the
dangerous
shores
Of
will
and
judgment
.
How
may
I
avoid
,
Although
my
will
distaste
what
it
elected
,
The
wife
I
choose
?
There
can
be
no
evasion
To
blench
from
this
and
to
stand
firm
by
honor
.
We
turn
not
back
the
silks
upon
the
merchant
When
we
have
soiled
them
,
nor
the
remainder
viands
We
do
not
throw
in
unrespective
sieve
Because
we
now
are
full
.
It
was
thought
meet
Paris
should
do
some
vengeance
on
the
Greeks
.
Your
breath
with
full
consent
bellied
his
sails
;
The
seas
and
winds
,
old
wranglers
,
took
a
truce
And
did
him
service
.
He
touched
the
ports
desired
,
And
for
an
old
aunt
whom
the
Greeks
held
captive
,
He
brought
a
Grecian
queen
,
whose
youth
and
freshness
Wrinkles
Apollo’s
and
makes
pale
the
morning
.
Why
keep
we
her
?
The
Grecians
keep
our
aunt
.
Is
she
worth
keeping
?
Why
,
she
is
a
pearl
Whose
price
hath
launched
above
a
thousand
ships
And
turned
crowned
kings
to
merchants
.
If
you’ll
avouch
’twas
wisdom
Paris
went
—
ACT 2. SC. 2
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
clapped
your
hands
And
cried
Inestimable
—
why
do
you
now
The
issue
of
your
proper
wisdoms
rate
And
do
a
deed
that
never
Fortune
did
,
Beggar
the
estimation
which
you
prized
Richer
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’n
,
That
in
their
country
did
them
that
disgrace
We
fear
to
warrant
in
our
native
place
.
,
within
Cry
,
Trojans
,
cry
!
What
noise
?
What
shriek
is
this
?
’Tis
our
mad
sister
.
I
do
know
her
voice
.
,
within
Cry
,
Trojans
!
It
is
Cassandra
.
Enter
Cassandra
raving
.
Cry
,
Trojans
,
cry
!
Lend
me
ten
thousand
eyes
,
And
I
will
fill
them
with
prophetic
tears
.
Peace
,
sister
,
peace
!
Virgins
and
boys
,
mid-age
and
wrinkled
elders
,
Soft
infancy
,
that
nothing
canst
but
cry
,
Add
to
my
clamors
.
Let
us
pay
betimes
A
moiety
of
that
mass
of
moan
to
come
.
Cry
,
Trojans
,
cry
!
Practice
your
eyes
with
tears
.
Troy
must
not
be
,
nor
goodly
Ilium
stand
.
Our
firebrand
brother
Paris
burns
us
all
.
Cry
,
Trojans
,
cry
!
A
Helen
and
a
woe
!
Cry
,
cry
!
Troy
burns
,
or
else
let
Helen
go
.
She
exits
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Now
,
youthful
Troilus
,
do
not
these
high
strains
Of
divination
in
our
sister
work
Some
touches
of
remorse
?
Or
is
your
blood
So
madly
hot
that
no
discourse
of
reason
Nor
fear
of
bad
success
in
a
bad
cause
Can
qualify
the
same
?
Why
,
brother
Hector
,
We
may
not
think
the
justness
of
each
act
Such
and
no
other
than
event
doth
form
it
,
Nor
once
deject
the
courage
of
our
minds
Because
Cassandra’s
mad
.
Her
brainsick
raptures
Cannot
distaste
the
goodness
of
a
quarrel
Which
hath
our
several
honors
all
engaged
To
make
it
gracious
.
For
my
private
part
,
I
am
no
more
touched
than
all
Priam’s
sons
;
And
Jove
forbid
there
should
be
done
amongst
us
Such
things
as
might
offend
the
weakest
spleen
To
fight
for
and
maintain
!
Else
might
the
world
convince
of
levity
As
well
my
undertakings
as
your
counsels
.
But
I
attest
the
gods
,
your
full
consent
Gave
wings
to
my
propension
and
cut
off
All
fears
attending
on
so
dire
a
project
.
For
what
,
alas
,
can
these
my
single
arms
?
What
propugnation
is
in
one
man’s
valor
To
stand
the
push
and
enmity
of
those
This
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
done
Nor
faint
in
the
pursuit
.
Paris
,
you
speak
Like
one
besotted
on
your
sweet
delights
.
You
have
the
honey
still
,
but
these
the
gall
.
So
to
be
valiant
is
no
praise
at
all
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Sir
,
I
propose
not
merely
to
myself
The
pleasures
such
a
beauty
brings
with
it
,
But
I
would
have
the
soil
of
her
fair
rape
Wiped
off
in
honorable
keeping
her
.
What
treason
were
it
to
the
ransacked
queen
,
Disgrace
to
your
great
worths
,
and
shame
to
me
,
Now
to
deliver
her
possession
up
On
terms
of
base
compulsion
?
Can
it
be
That
so
degenerate
a
strain
as
this
Should
once
set
footing
in
your
generous
bosoms
?
There’s
not
the
meanest
spirit
on
our
party
Without
a
heart
to
dare
or
sword
to
draw
When
Helen
is
defended
,
nor
none
so
noble
Whose
life
were
ill
bestowed
or
death
unfamed
Where
Helen
is
the
subject
.
Then
I
say
,
Well
may
we
fight
for
her
whom
,
we
know
well
,
The
world’s
large
spaces
cannot
parallel
.
Paris
and
Troilus
,
you
have
both
said
well
,
And
on
the
cause
and
question
now
in
hand
Have
glozed
—
but
superficially
,
not
much
Unlike
young
men
,
whom
Aristotle
thought
Unfit
to
hear
moral
philosophy
.
The
reasons
you
allege
do
more
conduce
To
the
hot
passion
of
distempered
blood
Than
to
make
up
a
free
determination
’Twixt
right
and
wrong
,
for
pleasure
and
revenge
Have
ears
more
deaf
than
adders
to
the
voice
Of
any
true
decision
.
Nature
craves
All
dues
be
rendered
to
their
owners
.
Now
,
What
nearer
debt
in
all
humanity
Than
wife
is
to
the
husband
?
If
this
law
Of
nature
be
corrupted
through
affection
,
And
that
great
minds
,
of
partial
indulgence
To
their
benumbèd
wills
,
resist
the
same
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
There
is
a
law
in
each
well-ordered
nation
To
curb
those
raging
appetites
that
are
Most
disobedient
and
refractory
.
If
Helen
,
then
,
be
wife
to
Sparta’s
king
,
As
it
is
known
she
is
,
these
moral
laws
Of
nature
and
of
nations
speak
aloud
To
have
her
back
returned
.
Thus
to
persist
In
doing
wrong
extenuates
not
wrong
,
But
makes
it
much
more
heavy
.
Hector’s
opinion
Is
this
in
way
of
truth
;
yet
,
ne’ertheless
,
My
sprightly
brethren
,
I
propend
to
you
In
resolution
to
keep
Helen
still
,
For
’tis
a
cause
that
hath
no
mean
dependence
Upon
our
joint
and
several
dignities
.
Why
,
there
you
touched
the
life
of
our
design
!
Were
it
not
glory
that
we
more
affected
Than
the
performance
of
our
heaving
spleens
,
I
would
not
wish
a
drop
of
Trojan
blood
Spent
more
in
her
defense
.
But
,
worthy
Hector
,
She
is
a
theme
of
honor
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
lose
So
rich
advantage
of
a
promised
glory
As
smiles
upon
the
forehead
of
this
action
For
the
wide
world’s
revenue
.
I
am
yours
,
You
valiant
offspring
of
great
Priamus
.
I
have
a
roisting
challenge
sent
amongst
The
dull
and
factious
nobles
of
the
Greeks
Will
strike
amazement
to
their
drowsy
spirits
.
I
was
advertised
their
great
general
slept
,
Whilst
emulation
in
the
army
crept
.
This
,
I
presume
,
will
wake
him
.
They
exit
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
Thersites
,
alone
.
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
railed
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
enginer
!
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
you
take
not
that
little
,
little
,
less
than
little
wit
from
them
that
they
have
,
which
short-armed
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
!
,
within
Who’s
there
?
Thersites
?
Good
Thersites
,
come
in
and
rail
.
If
I
could
’a
remembered
a
gilt
counterfeit
,
thou
couldst
not
have
slipped
out
of
my
contemplation
.
But
it
is
no
matter
.
Thyself
upon
thyself
!
The
common
curse
of
mankind
,
folly
and
ignorance
,
be
thine
in
great
revenue
!
Heaven
bless
thee
from
a
tutor
,
and
discipline
come
not
near
thee
!
Let
thy
blood
be
thy
direction
till
thy
death
;
then
if
she
that
lays
thee
out
says
thou
art
a
fair
corse
,
I’ll
be
ACT 2. SC. 3
sworn
and
sworn
upon
’t
she
never
shrouded
any
but
lazars
.
Amen
.
Enter
Patroclus
.
Where’s
Achilles
?
What
,
art
thou
devout
?
Wast
thou
in
prayer
?
Ay
.
The
heavens
hear
me
!
Amen
.
,
within
Who’s
there
?
Thersites
,
my
lord
.
,
within
Where
?
Where
?
O
,
where
?
Enter
Achilles
.
To
Thersites
.
Art
thou
come
?
Why
,
my
cheese
,
my
digestion
,
why
hast
thou
not
served
thyself
in
to
my
table
so
many
meals
?
Come
,
what’s
Agamemnon
?
Thy
commander
,
Achilles
.
—
Then
,
tell
me
,
Patroclus
,
what’s
Achilles
?
Thy
lord
,
Thersites
.
Then
,
tell
me
,
I
pray
thee
,
what’s
Thersites
?
Thy
knower
,
Patroclus
.
Then
,
tell
me
,
Patroclus
,
what
art
thou
?
Thou
must
tell
that
knowest
.
O
tell
,
tell
.
I’ll
decline
the
whole
question
.
Agamemnon
commands
Achilles
,
Achilles
is
my
lord
,
I
am
Patroclus’
knower
,
and
Patroclus
is
a
fool
.
You
rascal
!
Peace
,
fool
.
I
have
not
done
.
,
to
Patroclus
He
is
a
privileged
man
.
—
Proceed
,
Thersites
.
Agamemnon
is
a
fool
,
Achilles
is
a
fool
,
Thersites
is
a
fool
,
and
,
as
aforesaid
,
Patroclus
is
a
fool
.
Derive
this
.
Come
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Agamemnon
is
a
fool
to
offer
to
command
Achilles
,
Achilles
is
a
fool
to
be
commanded
of
Agamemnon
,
Thersites
is
a
fool
to
serve
such
a
fool
,
and
this
Patroclus
is
a
fool
positive
.
Why
am
I
a
fool
?
Make
that
demand
of
the
creator
.
It
suffices
me
thou
art
.
Enter
at
a
distance
Agamemnon
,
Ulysses
,
Nestor
,
Diomedes
,
Ajax
,
and
Calchas
.
Look
you
,
who
comes
here
?
Patroclus
,
I’ll
speak
with
nobody
.
—
Come
in
with
me
,
Thersites
.
He
exits
.
Here
is
such
patchery
,
such
juggling
,
and
such
knavery
.
All
the
argument
is
a
whore
and
a
cuckold
,
a
good
quarrel
to
draw
emulous
factions
and
bleed
to
death
upon
.
Now
the
dry
serpigo
on
the
subject
,
and
war
and
lechery
confound
all
!
He
exits
.
,
to
Patroclus
Where
is
Achilles
?
Within
his
tent
,
but
ill-disposed
,
my
lord
.
Let
it
be
known
to
him
that
we
are
here
.
He
shent
our
messengers
,
and
we
lay
by
Our
appertainments
,
visiting
of
him
.
Let
him
be
told
so
,
lest
perchance
he
think
We
dare
not
move
the
question
of
our
place
Or
know
not
what
we
are
.
I
shall
say
so
to
him
.
He
exits
.
We
saw
him
at
the
opening
of
his
tent
.
He
is
not
sick
.
Yes
,
lion-sick
,
sick
of
proud
heart
.
You
may
call
it
melancholy
if
you
will
favor
the
man
,
but
,
by
my
ACT 2. SC. 3
head
,
’tis
pride
.
But
,
why
,
why
?
Let
him
show
us
a
cause
.
—
A
word
,
my
lord
.
He
and
Agamemnon
walk
aside
.
What
moves
Ajax
thus
to
bay
at
him
?
Achilles
hath
inveigled
his
fool
from
him
.
Who
,
Thersites
?
He
.
Then
will
Ajax
lack
matter
,
if
he
have
lost
his
argument
.
No
.
You
see
,
he
is
his
argument
that
has
his
argument
:
Achilles
.
All
the
better
.
Their
fraction
is
more
our
wish
than
their
faction
.
But
it
was
a
strong
composure
a
fool
could
disunite
.
The
amity
that
wisdom
knits
not
,
folly
may
easily
untie
.
Enter
Patroclus
.
Here
comes
Patroclus
.
No
Achilles
with
him
.
The
elephant
hath
joints
,
but
none
for
courtesy
;
his
legs
are
legs
for
necessity
,
not
for
flexure
.
,
to
Agamemnon
Achilles
bids
me
say
he
is
much
sorry
If
anything
more
than
your
sport
and
pleasure
Did
move
your
greatness
and
this
noble
state
To
call
upon
him
.
He
hopes
it
is
no
other
But
for
your
health
and
your
digestion
sake
,
An
after-dinner’s
breath
.
Hear
you
,
Patroclus
:
We
are
too
well
acquainted
with
these
answers
,
But
his
evasion
,
winged
thus
swift
with
scorn
,
Cannot
outfly
our
apprehensions
.
Much
attribute
he
hath
,
and
much
the
reason
Why
we
ascribe
it
to
him
.
Yet
all
his
virtues
,
Not
virtuously
on
his
own
part
beheld
,
ACT 2. SC. 3
Do
in
our
eyes
begin
to
lose
their
gloss
,
Yea
,
and
like
fair
fruit
in
an
unwholesome
dish
,
Are
like
to
rot
untasted
.
Go
and
tell
him
We
come
to
speak
with
him
;
and
you
shall
not
sin
If
you
do
say
we
think
him
overproud
And
underhonest
,
in
self-assumption
greater
Than
in
the
note
of
judgment
;
and
worthier
than
himself
Here
tend
the
savage
strangeness
he
puts
on
,
Disguise
the
holy
strength
of
their
command
,
And
underwrite
in
an
observing
kind
His
humorous
predominance
—
yea
,
watch
His
course
and
time
,
his
ebbs
and
flows
,
as
if
The
passage
and
whole
carriage
of
this
action
Rode
on
his
tide
.
Go
tell
him
this
,
and
add
That
,
if
he
overhold
his
price
so
much
,
We’ll
none
of
him
.
But
let
him
,
like
an
engine
Not
portable
,
lie
under
this
report
:
Bring
action
hither
;
this
cannot
go
to
war
.
A
stirring
dwarf
we
do
allowance
give
Before
a
sleeping
giant
.
Tell
him
so
.
I
shall
,
and
bring
his
answer
presently
.
In
second
voice
we’ll
not
be
satisfied
;
We
come
to
speak
with
him
.
—
Ulysses
,
enter
you
.
Ulysses
exits
,
with
Patroclus
.
What
is
he
more
than
another
?
No
more
than
what
he
thinks
he
is
.
Is
he
so
much
?
Do
you
not
think
he
thinks
himself
a
better
man
than
I
am
?
No
question
.
Will
you
subscribe
his
thought
and
say
he
is
?
No
,
noble
Ajax
.
You
are
as
strong
,
as
valiant
,
as
wise
,
no
less
noble
,
much
more
gentle
,
and
altogether
more
tractable
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Why
should
a
man
be
proud
?
How
doth
pride
grow
?
I
know
not
what
pride
is
.
Your
mind
is
the
clearer
,
Ajax
,
and
your
virtues
the
fairer
.
He
that
is
proud
eats
up
himself
.
Pride
is
his
own
glass
,
his
own
trumpet
,
his
own
chronicle
;
and
whatever
praises
itself
but
in
the
deed
devours
the
deed
in
the
praise
.
I
do
hate
a
proud
man
as
I
hate
the
engendering
of
toads
.
,
aside
And
yet
he
loves
himself
.
Is
’t
not
strange
?
Enter
Ulysses
.
Achilles
will
not
to
the
field
tomorrow
.
What’s
his
excuse
?
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
.
Why
,
will
he
not
,
upon
our
fair
request
,
Untent
his
person
and
share
th’
air
with
us
?
Things
small
as
nothing
,
for
request’s
sake
only
,
He
makes
important
.
Possessed
he
is
with
greatness
And
speaks
not
to
himself
but
with
a
pride
That
quarrels
at
self-breath
.
Imagined
worth
Holds
in
his
blood
such
swoll’n
and
hot
discourse
That
’twixt
his
mental
and
his
active
parts
Kingdomed
Achilles
in
commotion
rages
And
batters
down
himself
.
What
should
I
say
?
He
is
so
plaguy
proud
that
the
death-tokens
of
it
Cry
No
recovery
.
Let
Ajax
go
to
him
.
—
ACT 2. SC. 3
Dear
lord
,
go
you
and
greet
him
in
his
tent
.
’Tis
said
he
holds
you
well
and
will
be
led
At
your
request
a
little
from
himself
.
O
Agamemnon
,
let
it
not
be
so
!
We’ll
consecrate
the
steps
that
Ajax
makes
When
they
go
from
Achilles
.
Shall
the
proud
lord
That
bastes
his
arrogance
with
his
own
seam
And
never
suffers
matter
of
the
world
Enter
his
thoughts
,
save
such
as
doth
revolve
And
ruminate
himself
—
shall
he
be
worshipped
Of
that
we
hold
an
idol
more
than
he
?
No
.
This
thrice-worthy
and
right
valiant
lord
Shall
not
so
stale
his
palm
,
nobly
acquired
,
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
burns
With
entertaining
great
Hyperion
.
This
lord
go
to
him
?
Jupiter
forbid
And
say
in
thunder
Achilles
,
go
to
him
.
,
aside
to
Diomedes
O
,
this
is
well
;
he
rubs
the
vein
of
him
.
,
aside
to
Nestor
And
how
his
silence
drinks
up
this
applause
!
If
I
go
to
him
,
with
my
armèd
fist
I’ll
pash
him
o’er
the
face
.
O
,
no
,
you
shall
not
go
.
An
he
be
proud
with
me
,
I’ll
feeze
his
pride
.
Let
me
go
to
him
.
Not
for
the
worth
that
hangs
upon
our
quarrel
.
A
paltry
,
insolent
fellow
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
,
aside
How
he
describes
himself
!
Can
he
not
be
sociable
?
,
aside
The
raven
chides
blackness
.
I’ll
let
his
humorous
blood
.
,
aside
He
will
be
the
physician
that
should
be
the
patient
.
An
all
men
were
of
my
mind
—
,
aside
Wit
would
be
out
of
fashion
.
—
he
should
not
bear
it
so
;
he
should
eat
swords
first
.
Shall
pride
carry
it
?
,
aside
An
’twould
,
you’d
carry
half
.
,
aside
He
would
have
ten
shares
.
I
will
knead
him
;
I’ll
make
him
supple
.
,
aside
He’s
not
yet
through
warm
.
Force
him
with
praises
.
Pour
in
,
pour
in
;
his
ambition
is
dry
.
,
to
Agamemnon
My
lord
,
you
feed
too
much
on
this
dislike
.
,
to
Agamemnon
Our
noble
general
,
do
not
do
so
.
,
to
Agamemnon
You
must
prepare
to
fight
without
Achilles
.
Why
,
’tis
this
naming
of
him
does
him
harm
.
Here
is
a
man
—
but
’tis
before
his
face
;
I
will
be
silent
.
Wherefore
should
you
so
?
He
is
not
emulous
,
as
Achilles
is
.
Know
the
whole
world
,
he
is
as
valiant
—
A
whoreson
dog
,
that
shall
palter
with
us
thus
!
Would
he
were
a
Trojan
!
What
a
vice
were
it
in
Ajax
now
—
If
he
were
proud
—
Or
covetous
of
praise
—
Ay
,
or
surly
borne
—
Or
strange
,
or
self-affected
—
ACT 2. SC. 3
,
to
Ajax
Thank
the
heavens
,
lord
,
thou
art
of
sweet
composure
.
Praise
him
that
gat
thee
,
she
that
gave
thee
suck
;
Famed
be
thy
tutor
,
and
thy
parts
of
nature
Thrice
famed
beyond
,
beyond
thy
erudition
;
But
he
that
disciplined
thine
arms
to
fight
,
Let
Mars
divide
eternity
in
twain
And
give
him
half
;
and
for
thy
vigor
,
Bull-bearing
Milo
his
addition
yield
To
sinewy
Ajax
.
I
will
not
praise
thy
wisdom
,
Which
like
a
bourn
,
a
pale
,
a
shore
confines
Thy
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
days
As
green
as
Ajax’
and
your
brain
so
tempered
,
You
should
not
have
the
eminence
of
him
,
But
be
as
Ajax
.
Shall
I
call
you
father
?
Ay
,
my
good
son
.
Be
ruled
by
him
,
Lord
Ajax
.
There
is
no
tarrying
here
;
the
hart
Achilles
Keeps
thicket
.
Please
it
our
great
general
To
call
together
all
his
state
of
war
.
Fresh
kings
are
come
to
Troy
.
Tomorrow
We
must
with
all
our
main
of
power
stand
fast
.
And
here’s
a
lord
—
come
knights
from
east
to
west
And
cull
their
flower
,
Ajax
shall
cope
the
best
.
Go
we
to
council
.
Let
Achilles
sleep
.
Light
boats
sail
swift
,
though
greater
hulks
draw
deep
.
They
exit
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
Music
sounds
within
.
Enter
Pandarus
and
Paris’s
Servingman
.
Friend
,
you
,
pray
you
,
a
word
.
Do
you
not
follow
the
young
Lord
Paris
?
Ay
,
sir
,
when
he
goes
before
me
.
You
depend
upon
him
,
I
mean
.
Sir
,
I
do
depend
upon
the
Lord
.
You
depend
upon
a
notable
gentleman
.
I
must
needs
praise
him
.
The
Lord
be
praised
!
You
know
me
,
do
you
not
?
Faith
,
sir
,
superficially
.
Friend
,
know
me
better
.
I
am
the
Lord
Pandarus
.
I
hope
I
shall
know
your
Honor
better
.
I
do
desire
it
.
You
are
in
the
state
of
grace
?
Grace
?
Not
so
,
friend
.
Honor
and
Lordship
are
my
titles
.
What
music
is
this
?
I
do
but
partly
know
,
sir
.
It
is
music
in
parts
.
Know
you
the
musicians
?
Wholly
,
sir
.
Who
play
they
to
?
To
the
hearers
,
sir
.
At
whose
pleasure
,
friend
?
ACT 3. SC. 1
At
mine
,
sir
,
and
theirs
that
love
music
.
Command
,
I
mean
,
friend
.
Who
shall
I
command
,
sir
?
Friend
,
we
understand
not
one
another
.
I
am
too
courtly
and
thou
art
too
cunning
.
At
whose
request
do
these
men
play
?
That’s
to
’t
indeed
,
sir
.
Marry
,
sir
,
at
the
request
of
Paris
my
lord
,
who
is
there
in
person
;
with
him
the
mortal
Venus
,
the
heart
blood
of
beauty
,
love’s
visible
soul
.
Who
,
my
cousin
Cressida
?
No
,
sir
,
Helen
.
Could
not
you
find
out
that
by
her
attributes
?
It
should
seem
,
fellow
,
that
thou
hast
not
seen
the
Lady
Cressid
.
I
come
to
speak
with
Paris
from
the
Prince
Troilus
.
I
will
make
a
complimental
assault
upon
him
,
for
my
business
seethes
.
Sodden
business
!
There’s
a
stewed
phrase
indeed
.
Enter
Paris
and
Helen
with
Attendants
.
Fair
be
to
you
,
my
lord
,
and
to
all
this
fair
company
!
Fair
desires
in
all
fair
measure
fairly
guide
them
!
—
Especially
to
you
,
fair
queen
,
fair
thoughts
be
your
fair
pillow
!
Dear
lord
,
you
are
full
of
fair
words
.
You
speak
your
fair
pleasure
,
sweet
queen
.
—
Fair
prince
,
here
is
good
broken
music
.
You
have
broke
it
,
cousin
,
and
,
by
my
life
,
you
shall
make
it
whole
again
;
you
shall
piece
it
out
with
a
piece
of
your
performance
.
He
is
full
of
harmony
.
Truly
,
lady
,
no
.
O
,
sir
—
Rude
,
in
sooth
;
in
good
sooth
,
very
rude
.
Well
said
,
my
lord
;
well
,
you
say
so
in
fits
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
I
have
business
to
my
lord
,
dear
queen
.
—
My
lord
,
will
you
vouchsafe
me
a
word
?
Nay
,
this
shall
not
hedge
us
out
.
We’ll
hear
you
sing
,
certainly
.
Well
,
sweet
queen
,
you
are
pleasant
with
me
.
—
But
,
marry
,
thus
,
my
lord
:
my
dear
lord
and
most
esteemed
friend
,
your
brother
Troilus
—
My
Lord
Pandarus
,
honey-sweet
lord
—
Go
to
,
sweet
queen
,
go
to
—
commends
himself
most
affectionately
to
you
—
You
shall
not
bob
us
out
of
our
melody
.
If
you
do
,
our
melancholy
upon
your
head
!
Sweet
queen
,
sweet
queen
,
that’s
a
sweet
queen
,
i’
faith
—
And
to
make
a
sweet
lady
sad
is
a
sour
offence
.
Nay
,
that
shall
not
serve
your
turn
,
that
shall
it
not
,
in
truth
,
la
.
Nay
,
I
care
not
for
such
words
,
no
,
no
.
—
And
,
my
lord
,
he
desires
you
that
if
the
King
call
for
him
at
supper
,
you
will
make
his
excuse
.
My
Lord
Pandarus
—
What
says
my
sweet
queen
,
my
very
,
very
sweet
queen
?
What
exploit’s
in
hand
?
Where
sups
he
tonight
?
Nay
,
but
,
my
lord
—
What
says
my
sweet
queen
?
My
cousin
will
fall
out
with
you
.
,
to
Paris
You
must
not
know
where
he
sups
.
I’ll
lay
my
life
,
with
my
disposer
Cressida
.
No
,
no
,
no
such
matter
;
you
are
wide
.
Come
,
your
disposer
is
sick
.
Well
,
I’ll
make
’s
excuse
.
Ay
,
good
my
lord
.
Why
should
you
say
Cressida
?
No
,
your
poor
disposer’s
sick
.
I
spy
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
You
spy
?
What
do
you
spy
?
—
Come
,
give
me
an
instrument
.
An
Attendant
gives
him
an
instrument
.
Now
,
sweet
queen
.
Why
,
this
is
kindly
done
.
My
niece
is
horribly
in
love
with
a
thing
you
have
,
sweet
queen
.
She
shall
have
it
,
my
lord
,
if
it
be
not
my
Lord
Paris
.
He
?
No
,
she’ll
none
of
him
.
They
two
are
twain
.
Falling
in
after
falling
out
may
make
them
three
.
Come
,
come
,
I’ll
hear
no
more
of
this
.
I’ll
sing
you
a
song
now
.
Ay
,
ay
,
prithee
.
Now
,
by
my
troth
,
sweet
lord
,
thou
hast
a
fine
forehead
.
Ay
,
you
may
,
you
may
.
Let
thy
song
be
love
.
This
love
will
undo
us
all
.
O
Cupid
,
Cupid
,
Cupid
!
Love
?
Ay
,
that
it
shall
,
i’
faith
.
Ay
,
good
now
,
Love
,
love
,
nothing
but
love
.
In
good
troth
,
it
begins
so
.
Love
,
love
,
nothing
but
love
,
still
love
,
still
more
!
For
,
O
,
love’s
bow
Shoots
buck
and
doe
.
The
shaft
confounds
Not
that
it
wounds
But
tickles
still
the
sore
.
These
lovers
cry
O
ho
!
they
die
,
Yet
that
which
seems
the
wound
to
kill
Doth
turn
O
ho
!
to
Ha
ha
he
!
So
dying
love
lives
still
.
O
ho
!
awhile
,
but
Ha
ha
ha
!
O
ho
!
groans
out
for
ha
ha
ha
!
—
Hey
ho
!
ACT 3. SC. 1
In
love
,
i’
faith
,
to
the
very
tip
of
the
nose
.
He
eats
nothing
but
doves
,
love
,
and
that
breeds
hot
blood
,
and
hot
blood
begets
hot
thoughts
,
and
hot
thoughts
beget
hot
deeds
,
and
hot
deeds
is
love
.
Is
this
the
generation
of
love
?
Hot
blood
,
hot
thoughts
,
and
hot
deeds
?
Why
,
they
are
vipers
.
Is
love
a
generation
of
vipers
?
Sweet
lord
,
who’s
afield
today
?
Hector
,
Deiphobus
,
Helenus
,
Antenor
,
and
all
the
gallantry
of
Troy
.
I
would
fain
have
armed
today
,
but
my
Nell
would
not
have
it
so
.
How
chance
my
brother
Troilus
went
not
?
He
hangs
the
lip
at
something
.
—
You
know
all
,
Lord
Pandarus
.
Not
I
,
honey
sweet
queen
.
I
long
to
hear
how
they
sped
today
.
—
You’ll
remember
your
brother’s
excuse
?
To
a
hair
.
Farewell
,
sweet
queen
.
Commend
me
to
your
niece
.
I
will
,
sweet
queen
.
He
exits
.
Sound
a
retreat
.
They’re
come
from
the
field
.
Let
us
to
Priam’s
hall
To
greet
the
warriors
.
Sweet
Helen
,
I
must
woo
you
To
help
unarm
our
Hector
.
His
stubborn
buckles
,
With
these
your
white
enchanting
fingers
touched
,
Shall
more
obey
than
to
the
edge
of
steel
Or
force
of
Greekish
sinews
.
You
shall
do
more
Than
all
the
island
kings
:
disarm
great
Hector
.
’Twill
make
us
proud
to
be
his
servant
,
Paris
.
Yea
,
what
he
shall
receive
of
us
in
duty
Gives
us
more
palm
in
beauty
than
we
have
,
Yea
,
overshines
ourself
.
Sweet
,
above
thought
I
love
thee
.
They
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Pandarus
and
Troilus’s
Man
,
meeting
.
How
now
?
Where’s
thy
master
?
At
my
cousin
Cressida’s
?
No
,
sir
,
he
stays
for
you
to
conduct
him
thither
.
Enter
Troilus
.
O
,
here
he
comes
.
—
How
now
,
how
now
?
,
to
his
Man
Sirrah
,
walk
off
.
Man
exits
.
Have
you
seen
my
cousin
?
No
,
Pandarus
.
I
stalk
about
her
door
Like
a
strange
soul
upon
the
Stygian
banks
Staying
for
waftage
.
O
,
be
thou
my
Charon
,
And
give
me
swift
transportance
to
those
fields
Where
I
may
wallow
in
the
lily
beds
Proposed
for
the
deserver
!
O
,
gentle
Pandar
,
From
Cupid’s
shoulder
pluck
his
painted
wings
And
fly
with
me
to
Cressid
!
Walk
here
i’
th’
orchard
.
I’ll
bring
her
straight
.
Pandarus
exits
.
I
am
giddy
;
expectation
whirls
me
round
.
Th’
imaginary
relish
is
so
sweet
That
it
enchants
my
sense
.
What
will
it
be
When
that
the
wat’ry
palate
taste
indeed
Love’s
thrice-repurèd
nectar
?
Death
,
I
fear
me
,
Swooning
destruction
,
or
some
joy
too
fine
,
Too
subtle-potent
,
tuned
too
sharp
in
sweetness
For
the
capacity
of
my
ruder
powers
.
I
fear
it
much
;
and
I
do
fear
besides
That
I
shall
lose
distinction
in
my
joys
,
As
doth
a
battle
when
they
charge
on
heaps
The
enemy
flying
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Enter
Pandarus
.
She’s
making
her
ready
;
she’ll
come
straight
.
You
must
be
witty
now
.
She
does
so
blush
and
fetches
her
wind
so
short
as
if
she
were
frayed
with
a
spirit
.
I’ll
fetch
her
.
It
is
the
prettiest
villain
.
She
fetches
her
breath
as
short
as
a
new-ta’en
sparrow
.
Pandarus
exits
.
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’ring
The
eye
of
majesty
.
Enter
Pandarus
,
and
Cressida
veiled
.
,
to
Cressida
Come
,
come
,
what
need
you
blush
?
Shame’s
a
baby
.
—
Here
she
is
now
.
Swear
the
oaths
now
to
her
that
you
have
sworn
to
me
.
Cressida
offers
to
leave
.
What
,
are
you
gone
again
?
You
must
be
watched
ere
you
be
made
tame
,
must
you
?
Come
your
ways
;
come
your
ways
.
An
you
draw
backward
,
we’ll
put
you
i’
th’
thills
.
—
Why
do
you
not
speak
to
her
?
—
Come
,
draw
this
curtain
and
let’s
see
your
picture
.
He
draws
back
her
veil
.
Alas
the
day
,
how
loath
you
are
to
offend
daylight
!
An
’twere
dark
,
you’d
close
sooner
.
—
So
,
so
,
rub
on
,
and
kiss
the
mistress
.
(
They
kiss
.
)
How
now
?
A
kiss
in
fee-farm
?
Build
there
,
carpenter
;
the
air
is
sweet
.
Nay
,
you
shall
fight
your
hearts
out
ere
I
part
you
.
The
falcon
as
the
tercel
,
for
all
the
ducks
i’
th’
river
.
Go
to
,
go
to
.
You
have
bereft
me
of
all
words
,
lady
.
Words
pay
no
debts
;
give
her
deeds
.
But
she’ll
bereave
you
o’
th’
deeds
too
,
if
she
call
your
activity
in
question
.
(
They
kiss
.
)
What
,
billing
ACT 3. SC. 2
again
?
Here’s
In
witness
whereof
the
parties
interchangeably
—
.
Come
in
,
come
in
.
I’ll
go
get
a
fire
.
Pandarus
exits
.
Will
you
walk
in
,
my
lord
?
O
Cressid
,
how
often
have
I
wished
me
thus
!
Wished
,
my
lord
?
The
gods
grant
—
O
,
my
lord
!
What
should
they
grant
?
What
makes
this
pretty
abruption
?
What
too-curious
dreg
espies
my
sweet
lady
in
the
fountain
of
our
love
?
More
dregs
than
water
,
if
my
fears
have
eyes
.
Fears
make
devils
of
cherubins
;
they
never
see
truly
.
Blind
fear
,
that
seeing
reason
leads
,
finds
safer
footing
than
blind
reason
,
stumbling
without
fear
.
To
fear
the
worst
oft
cures
the
worse
.
O
,
let
my
lady
apprehend
no
fear
.
In
all
Cupid’s
pageant
there
is
presented
no
monster
.
Nor
nothing
monstrous
neither
?
Nothing
but
our
undertakings
,
when
we
vow
to
weep
seas
,
live
in
fire
,
eat
rocks
,
tame
tigers
,
thinking
it
harder
for
our
mistress
to
devise
imposition
enough
than
for
us
to
undergo
any
difficulty
imposed
.
This
is
the
monstruosity
in
love
,
lady
,
that
the
will
is
infinite
and
the
execution
confined
,
that
the
desire
is
boundless
and
the
act
a
slave
to
limit
.
They
say
all
lovers
swear
more
performance
than
they
are
able
and
yet
reserve
an
ability
that
they
never
perform
,
vowing
more
than
the
perfection
of
ten
and
discharging
less
than
the
tenth
part
of
one
.
They
that
have
the
voice
of
lions
and
the
act
of
hares
,
are
they
not
monsters
?
Are
there
such
?
Such
are
not
we
.
Praise
us
as
we
are
tasted
,
allow
us
as
we
prove
;
our
head
shall
go
bare
till
merit
crown
it
.
No
perfection
in
reversion
shall
have
a
praise
in
present
.
We
will
not
ACT 3. SC. 2
name
desert
before
his
birth
,
and
,
being
born
,
his
addition
shall
be
humble
.
Few
words
to
fair
faith
.
Troilus
shall
be
such
to
Cressid
as
what
envy
can
say
worst
shall
be
a
mock
for
his
truth
,
and
what
truth
can
speak
truest
not
truer
than
Troilus
.
Will
you
walk
in
,
my
lord
?
Enter
Pandarus
.
What
,
blushing
still
?
Have
you
not
done
talking
yet
?
Well
,
uncle
,
what
folly
I
commit
I
dedicate
to
you
.
I
thank
you
for
that
.
If
my
lord
get
a
boy
of
you
,
you’ll
give
him
me
.
Be
true
to
my
lord
.
If
he
flinch
,
chide
me
for
it
.
,
to
Cressida
You
know
now
your
hostages
:
your
uncle’s
word
and
my
firm
faith
.
Nay
,
I’ll
give
my
word
for
her
too
.
Our
kindred
,
though
they
be
long
ere
they
be
wooed
,
they
are
constant
being
won
.
They
are
burrs
,
I
can
tell
you
;
they’ll
stick
where
they
are
thrown
.
Boldness
comes
to
me
now
and
brings
me
heart
.
Prince
Troilus
,
I
have
loved
you
night
and
day
For
many
weary
months
.
Why
was
my
Cressid
then
so
hard
to
win
?
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
much
But
I
might
master
it
.
In
faith
,
I
lie
;
My
thoughts
were
like
unbridled
children
grown
Too
headstrong
for
their
mother
.
See
,
we
fools
!
Why
have
I
blabbed
?
Who
shall
be
true
to
us
ACT 3. SC. 2
When
we
are
so
unsecret
to
ourselves
?
But
though
I
loved
you
well
,
I
wooed
you
not
;
And
yet
,
good
faith
,
I
wished
myself
a
man
;
Or
that
we
women
had
men’s
privilege
Of
speaking
first
.
Sweet
,
bid
me
hold
my
tongue
,
For
in
this
rapture
I
shall
surely
speak
The
thing
I
shall
repent
.
See
,
see
,
your
silence
,
Cunning
in
dumbness
,
from
my
weakness
draws
My
very
soul
of
counsel
!
Stop
my
mouth
.
And
shall
,
albeit
sweet
music
issues
thence
.
They
kiss
.
Pretty
,
i’
faith
!
,
to
Troilus
My
lord
,
I
do
beseech
you
pardon
me
.
’Twas
not
my
purpose
thus
to
beg
a
kiss
.
I
am
ashamed
.
O
heavens
,
what
have
I
done
!
For
this
time
will
I
take
my
leave
,
my
lord
.
Your
leave
,
sweet
Cressid
?
Leave
?
An
you
take
leave
till
tomorrow
morning
—
Pray
you
,
content
you
.
What
offends
you
,
lady
?
Sir
,
mine
own
company
.
You
cannot
shun
yourself
.
Let
me
go
and
try
.
I
have
a
kind
of
self
resides
with
you
,
But
an
unkind
self
that
itself
will
leave
To
be
another’s
fool
.
I
would
be
gone
.
Where
is
my
wit
?
I
know
not
what
I
speak
.
Well
know
they
what
they
speak
that
speak
so
wisely
.
Perchance
,
my
lord
,
I
show
more
craft
than
love
And
fell
so
roundly
to
a
large
confession
To
angle
for
your
thoughts
.
But
you
are
wise
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
Or
else
you
love
not
;
for
to
be
wise
and
love
Exceeds
man’s
might
.
That
dwells
with
gods
above
.
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
mind
That
doth
renew
swifter
than
blood
decays
!
Or
that
persuasion
could
but
thus
convince
me
That
my
integrity
and
truth
to
you
Might
be
affronted
with
the
match
and
weight
Of
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
.
In
that
I’ll
war
with
you
.
O
virtuous
fight
,
When
right
with
right
wars
who
shall
be
most
right
!
True
swains
in
love
shall
in
the
world
to
come
Approve
their
truth
by
Troilus
.
When
their
rhymes
,
Full
of
protest
,
of
oath
and
big
compare
,
Wants
similes
,
truth
tired
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
earth
to
th’
center
—
Yet
,
after
all
comparisons
of
truth
,
As
truth’s
authentic
author
to
be
cited
,
As
true
as
Troilus
shall
crown
up
the
verse
And
sanctify
the
numbers
.
Prophet
may
you
be
!
If
I
be
false
or
swerve
a
hair
from
truth
,
When
time
is
old
and
hath
forgot
itself
,
When
water
drops
have
worn
the
stones
of
Troy
And
blind
oblivion
swallowed
cities
up
,
ACT 3. SC. 3
And
mighty
states
characterless
are
grated
To
dusty
nothing
,
yet
let
memory
,
From
false
to
false
,
among
false
maids
in
love
,
Upbraid
my
falsehood
!
When
they’ve
said
as
false
As
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
.
Go
to
,
a
bargain
made
.
Seal
it
,
seal
it
.
I’ll
be
the
witness
.
Here
I
hold
your
hand
,
here
my
cousin’s
.
If
ever
you
prove
false
one
to
another
,
since
I
have
taken
such
pains
to
bring
you
together
,
let
all
pitiful
goers-between
be
called
to
the
world’s
end
after
my
name
:
call
them
all
panders
.
Let
all
constant
men
be
Troiluses
,
all
false
women
Cressids
,
and
all
brokers-between
panders
.
Say
Amen
.
Amen
.
Amen
.
Amen
.
Whereupon
I
will
show
you
a
chamber
with
a
bed
,
which
bed
,
because
it
shall
not
speak
of
your
pretty
encounters
,
press
it
to
death
.
Away
.
Troilus
and
Cressida
exit
.
And
Cupid
grant
all
tongue-tied
maidens
here
Bed
,
chamber
,
pander
to
provide
this
gear
.
He
exits
.
Scene
3
Flourish
.
Enter
Ulysses
,
Diomedes
,
Nestor
,
Agamemnon
,
Calchas
,
Menelaus
,
and
Ajax
.
Now
,
princes
,
for
the
service
I
have
done
you
,
Th’
advantage
of
the
time
prompts
me
aloud
To
call
for
recompense
.
Appear
it
to
your
mind
ACT 3. SC. 3
That
,
through
the
sight
I
bear
in
things
to
come
,
I
have
abandoned
Troy
,
left
my
possessions
,
Incurred
a
traitor’s
name
,
exposed
myself
,
From
certain
and
possessed
conveniences
,
To
doubtful
fortunes
,
sequest’ring
from
me
all
That
time
,
acquaintance
,
custom
,
and
condition
Made
tame
and
most
familiar
to
my
nature
,
And
here
,
to
do
you
service
,
am
become
As
new
into
the
world
,
strange
,
unacquainted
.
I
do
beseech
you
,
as
in
way
of
taste
,
To
give
me
now
a
little
benefit
Out
of
those
many
regist’red
in
promise
,
Which
you
say
live
to
come
in
my
behalf
.
What
wouldst
thou
of
us
,
Trojan
,
make
demand
?
You
have
a
Trojan
prisoner
called
Antenor
Yesterday
took
.
Troy
holds
him
very
dear
.
Oft
have
you
—
often
have
you
thanks
therefor
—
Desired
my
Cressid
in
right
great
exchange
,
Whom
Troy
hath
still
denied
;
but
this
Antenor
,
I
know
,
is
such
a
wrest
in
their
affairs
That
their
negotiations
all
must
slack
,
Wanting
his
manage
;
and
they
will
almost
Give
us
a
prince
of
blood
,
a
son
of
Priam
,
In
change
of
him
.
Let
him
be
sent
,
great
princes
,
And
he
shall
buy
my
daughter
;
and
her
presence
Shall
quite
strike
off
all
service
I
have
done
In
most
accepted
pain
.
Let
Diomedes
bear
him
,
And
bring
us
Cressid
hither
.
Calchas
shall
have
What
he
requests
of
us
.
Good
Diomed
,
Furnish
you
fairly
for
this
interchange
.
Withal
,
bring
word
if
Hector
will
tomorrow
Be
answered
in
his
challenge
.
Ajax
is
ready
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
This
shall
I
undertake
,
and
’tis
a
burden
Which
I
am
proud
to
bear
.
He
exits
with
Calchas
.
Achilles
and
Patroclus
stand
in
their
tent
.
Achilles
stands
i’
th’
entrance
of
his
tent
.
Please
it
our
General
pass
strangely
by
him
As
if
he
were
forgot
,
and
,
princes
all
,
Lay
negligent
and
loose
regard
upon
him
.
I
will
come
last
.
’Tis
like
he’ll
question
me
Why
such
unplausive
eyes
are
bent
,
why
turned
on
him
.
If
so
,
I
have
derision
medicinable
To
use
between
your
strangeness
and
his
pride
,
Which
his
own
will
shall
have
desire
to
drink
.
It
may
do
good
;
pride
hath
no
other
glass
To
show
itself
but
pride
,
for
supple
knees
Feed
arrogance
and
are
the
proud
man’s
fees
.
We’ll
execute
your
purpose
and
put
on
A
form
of
strangeness
as
we
pass
along
;
So
do
each
lord
,
and
either
greet
him
not
Or
else
disdainfully
,
which
shall
shake
him
more
Than
if
not
looked
on
.
I
will
lead
the
way
.
They
pass
before
Achilles
and
Patroclus
.
Ulysses
remains
in
place
,
reading
.
What
,
comes
the
General
to
speak
with
me
?
You
know
my
mind
:
I’ll
fight
no
more
’gainst
Troy
.
,
to
Nestor
What
says
Achilles
?
Would
he
aught
with
us
?
,
to
Achilles
Would
you
,
my
lord
,
aught
with
the
General
?
No
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Nothing
,
my
lord
.
The
better
.
Agamemnon
and
Nestor
exit
.
,
to
Menelaus
Good
day
,
good
day
.
How
do
you
?
How
do
you
?
He
exits
.
What
,
does
the
cuckold
scorn
me
?
How
now
,
Patroclus
?
Good
morrow
,
Ajax
.
Ha
?
Good
morrow
.
Ay
,
and
good
next
day
too
.
He
exits
.
What
mean
these
fellows
?
Know
they
not
Achilles
?
They
pass
by
strangely
.
They
were
used
to
bend
,
To
send
their
smiles
before
them
to
Achilles
,
To
come
as
humbly
as
they
use
to
creep
To
holy
altars
.
What
,
am
I
poor
of
late
?
’Tis
certain
,
greatness
,
once
fall’n
out
with
Fortune
,
Must
fall
out
with
men
too
.
What
the
declined
is
He
shall
as
soon
read
in
the
eyes
of
others
As
feel
in
his
own
fall
,
for
men
,
like
butterflies
,
Show
not
their
mealy
wings
but
to
the
summer
,
And
not
a
man
,
for
being
simply
man
,
Hath
any
honor
,
but
honor
for
those
honors
That
are
without
him
—
as
place
,
riches
,
and
favor
,
Prizes
of
accident
as
oft
as
merit
,
Which
,
when
they
fall
,
as
being
slippery
slanders
,
The
love
that
leaned
on
them
,
as
slippery
too
,
Doth
one
pluck
down
another
and
together
Die
in
the
fall
.
But
’tis
not
so
with
me
.
Fortune
and
I
are
friends
.
I
do
enjoy
,
At
ample
point
,
all
that
I
did
possess
,
Save
these
men’s
looks
,
who
do
,
methinks
,
find
out
Something
not
worth
in
me
such
rich
beholding
ACT 3. SC. 3
As
they
have
often
given
.
Here
is
Ulysses
.
I’ll
interrupt
his
reading
.
—
How
now
,
Ulysses
?
Now
,
great
Thetis’
son
—
What
are
you
reading
?
A
strange
fellow
here
Writes
me
that
man
,
how
dearly
ever
parted
,
How
much
in
having
,
or
without
or
in
,
Cannot
make
boast
to
have
that
which
he
hath
,
Nor
feels
not
what
he
owes
,
but
by
reflection
;
As
when
his
virtues
,
shining
upon
others
,
Heat
them
,
and
they
retort
that
heat
again
To
the
first
giver
.
This
is
not
strange
,
Ulysses
.
The
beauty
that
is
borne
here
in
the
face
The
bearer
knows
not
,
but
commends
itself
To
others’
eyes
;
nor
doth
the
eye
itself
,
That
most
pure
spirit
of
sense
,
behold
itself
,
Not
going
from
itself
,
but
eye
to
eye
opposed
Salutes
each
other
with
each
other’s
form
.
For
speculation
turns
not
to
itself
Till
it
hath
traveled
and
is
mirrored
there
Where
it
may
see
itself
.
This
is
not
strange
at
all
.
I
do
not
strain
at
the
position
—
It
is
familiar
—
but
at
the
author’s
drift
,
Who
in
his
circumstance
expressly
proves
That
no
man
is
the
lord
of
anything
—
Though
in
and
of
him
there
be
much
consisting
—
Till
he
communicate
his
parts
to
others
;
Nor
doth
he
of
himself
know
them
for
aught
Till
he
behold
them
formed
in
the
applause
Where
they’re
extended
;
who
,
like
an
arch
,
reverb’rate
The
voice
again
or
,
like
a
gate
of
steel
Fronting
the
sun
,
receives
and
renders
back
His
figure
and
his
heat
.
I
was
much
rapt
in
this
And
apprehended
here
immediately
ACT 3. SC. 3
Th’
unknown
Ajax
.
Heavens
,
what
a
man
is
there
!
A
very
horse
,
that
has
he
knows
not
what
!
Nature
,
what
things
there
are
Most
abject
in
regard
,
and
dear
in
use
,
What
things
again
most
dear
in
the
esteem
And
poor
in
worth
!
Now
shall
we
see
tomorrow
—
An
act
that
very
chance
doth
throw
upon
him
—
Ajax
renowned
.
O
,
heavens
,
what
some
men
do
While
some
men
leave
to
do
!
How
some
men
creep
in
skittish
Fortune’s
hall
,
Whiles
others
play
the
idiots
in
her
eyes
!
How
one
man
eats
into
another’s
pride
,
While
pride
is
fasting
in
his
wantonness
!
To
see
these
Grecian
lords
—
why
,
even
already
They
clap
the
lubber
Ajax
on
the
shoulder
As
if
his
foot
were
on
brave
Hector’s
breast
And
great
Troy
shrieking
.
I
do
believe
it
,
for
they
passed
by
me
As
misers
do
by
beggars
,
neither
gave
to
me
Good
word
nor
look
.
What
,
are
my
deeds
forgot
?
Time
hath
,
my
lord
,
a
wallet
at
his
back
Wherein
he
puts
alms
for
oblivion
,
A
great-sized
monster
of
ingratitudes
.
Those
scraps
are
good
deeds
past
,
which
are
devoured
As
fast
as
they
are
made
,
forgot
as
soon
As
done
.
Perseverance
,
dear
my
lord
,
Keeps
honor
bright
.
To
have
done
is
to
hang
Quite
out
of
fashion
like
a
rusty
mail
In
monumental
mock’ry
.
Take
the
instant
way
,
For
honor
travels
in
a
strait
so
narrow
Where
one
but
goes
abreast
.
Keep
,
then
,
the
path
,
For
Emulation
hath
a
thousand
sons
That
one
by
one
pursue
.
If
you
give
way
Or
turn
aside
from
the
direct
forthright
,
ACT 3. SC. 3
Like
to
an
entered
tide
they
all
rush
by
And
leave
you
hindmost
;
Or
,
like
a
gallant
horse
fall’n
in
first
rank
,
Lie
there
for
pavement
to
the
abject
rear
,
O’errun
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
outstretched
as
he
would
fly
,
Grasps
in
the
comer
.
Welcome
ever
smiles
,
And
Farewell
goes
out
sighing
.
Let
not
virtue
seek
Remuneration
for
the
thing
it
was
,
For
beauty
,
wit
,
High
birth
,
vigor
of
bone
,
desert
in
service
,
Love
,
friendship
,
charity
are
subjects
all
To
envious
and
calumniating
Time
.
One
touch
of
nature
makes
the
whole
world
kin
,
That
all
,
with
one
consent
,
praise
newborn
gauds
,
Though
they
are
made
and
molded
of
things
past
,
And
give
to
dust
that
is
a
little
gilt
More
laud
than
gilt
o’erdusted
.
The
present
eye
praises
the
present
object
.
Then
marvel
not
,
thou
great
and
complete
man
,
That
all
the
Greeks
begin
to
worship
Ajax
,
Since
things
in
motion
sooner
catch
the
eye
Than
what
stirs
not
.
The
cry
went
once
on
thee
,
And
still
it
might
,
and
yet
it
may
again
,
If
thou
wouldst
not
entomb
thyself
alive
And
case
thy
reputation
in
thy
tent
,
Whose
glorious
deeds
but
in
these
fields
of
late
Made
emulous
missions
’mongst
the
gods
themselves
And
drave
great
Mars
to
faction
.
Of
this
my
privacy
,
I
have
strong
reasons
.
But
’gainst
your
privacy
ACT 3. SC. 3
The
reasons
are
more
potent
and
heroical
.
’Tis
known
,
Achilles
,
that
you
are
in
love
With
one
of
Priam’s
daughters
.
Ha
?
Known
?
Is
that
a
wonder
?
The
providence
that’s
in
a
watchful
state
Knows
almost
every
grain
of
Pluto’s
gold
,
Finds
bottom
in
the
uncomprehensive
deep
,
Keeps
place
with
thought
and
almost
,
like
the
gods
,
Do
thoughts
unveil
in
their
dumb
cradles
.
There
is
a
mystery
—
with
whom
relation
Durst
never
meddle
—
in
the
soul
of
state
,
Which
hath
an
operation
more
divine
Than
breath
or
pen
can
give
expressure
to
.
All
the
commerce
that
you
have
had
with
Troy
As
perfectly
is
ours
as
yours
,
my
lord
;
And
better
would
it
fit
Achilles
much
To
throw
down
Hector
than
Polyxena
.
But
it
must
grieve
young
Pyrrhus
now
at
home
When
Fame
shall
in
our
islands
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
.
He
exits
.
To
this
effect
,
Achilles
,
have
I
moved
you
.
A
woman
impudent
and
mannish
grown
Is
not
more
loathed
than
an
effeminate
man
In
time
of
action
.
I
stand
condemned
for
this
.
They
think
my
little
stomach
to
the
war
,
And
your
great
love
to
me
,
restrains
you
thus
.
Sweet
,
rouse
yourself
,
and
the
weak
wanton
Cupid
Shall
from
your
neck
unloose
his
amorous
fold
ACT 3. SC. 3
And
,
like
a
dewdrop
from
the
lion’s
mane
,
Be
shook
to
air
.
Shall
Ajax
fight
with
Hector
?
Ay
,
and
perhaps
receive
much
honor
by
him
.
I
see
my
reputation
is
at
stake
;
My
fame
is
shrewdly
gored
.
O
,
then
,
beware
!
Those
wounds
heal
ill
that
men
do
give
themselves
.
Omission
to
do
what
is
necessary
Seals
a
commission
to
a
blank
of
danger
,
And
danger
,
like
an
ague
,
subtly
taints
Even
then
when
they
sit
idly
in
the
sun
.
Go
call
Thersites
hither
,
sweet
Patroclus
.
I’ll
send
the
fool
to
Ajax
and
desire
him
T’
invite
the
Trojan
lords
after
the
combat
To
see
us
here
unarmed
.
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
labor
saved
.
A
wonder
!
What
?
Ajax
goes
up
and
down
the
field
,
asking
for
himself
.
How
so
?
He
must
fight
singly
tomorrow
with
Hector
and
is
so
prophetically
proud
of
an
heroical
cudgeling
that
he
raves
in
saying
nothing
.
How
can
that
be
?
ACT 3. SC. 3
Why
,
he
stalks
up
and
down
like
a
peacock
—
a
stride
and
a
stand
;
ruminates
like
an
hostess
that
hath
no
arithmetic
but
her
brain
to
set
down
her
reckoning
;
bites
his
lip
with
a
politic
regard
,
as
who
should
say
There
were
wit
in
this
head
an
’twould
out
—
and
so
there
is
,
but
it
lies
as
coldly
in
him
as
fire
in
a
flint
,
which
will
not
show
without
knocking
.
The
man’s
undone
forever
,
for
if
Hector
break
not
his
neck
i’
th’
combat
,
he’ll
break
’t
himself
in
vainglory
.
He
knows
not
me
.
I
said
Good
morrow
,
Ajax
,
and
he
replies
Thanks
,
Agamemnon
.
What
think
you
of
this
man
that
takes
me
for
the
General
?
He’s
grown
a
very
land-fish
,
languageless
,
a
monster
.
A
plague
of
opinion
!
A
man
may
wear
it
on
both
sides
,
like
a
leather
jerkin
.
Thou
must
be
my
ambassador
to
him
,
Thersites
.
Who
,
I
?
Why
,
he’ll
answer
nobody
.
He
professes
not
answering
;
speaking
is
for
beggars
;
he
wears
his
tongue
in
’s
arms
.
I
will
put
on
his
presence
.
Let
Patroclus
make
his
demands
to
me
.
You
shall
see
the
pageant
of
Ajax
.
To
him
,
Patroclus
.
Tell
him
I
humbly
desire
the
valiant
Ajax
to
invite
the
most
valorous
Hector
to
come
unarmed
to
my
tent
,
and
to
procure
safe-conduct
for
his
person
of
the
magnanimous
and
most
illustrious
,
six-or-seven-times-honored
captain
general
of
the
Grecian
army
,
Agamemnon
,
et
cetera
.
Do
this
.
,
to
Thersites
,
who
is
playing
Ajax
Jove
bless
great
Ajax
.
Hum
!
I
come
from
the
worthy
Achilles
—
Ha
?
ACT 3. SC. 3
Who
most
humbly
desires
you
to
invite
Hector
to
his
tent
—
Hum
!
And
to
procure
safe-conduct
from
Agamemnon
.
Agamemnon
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
Ha
!
What
say
you
to
’t
?
God
b’
wi’
you
,
with
all
my
heart
.
Your
answer
,
sir
.
If
tomorrow
be
a
fair
day
,
by
eleven
of
the
clock
it
will
go
one
way
or
other
.
Howsoever
,
he
shall
pay
for
me
ere
he
has
me
.
Your
answer
,
sir
.
Fare
you
well
with
all
my
heart
.
He
pretends
to
exit
.
Why
,
but
he
is
not
in
this
tune
,
is
he
?
No
,
but
he’s
out
of
tune
thus
.
What
music
will
be
in
him
when
Hector
has
knocked
out
his
brains
I
know
not
.
But
I
am
sure
none
,
unless
the
fiddler
Apollo
get
his
sinews
to
make
catlings
on
.
Come
,
thou
shalt
bear
a
letter
to
him
straight
.
Let
me
bear
another
to
his
horse
,
for
that’s
the
more
capable
creature
.
My
mind
is
troubled
,
like
a
fountain
stirred
,
And
I
myself
see
not
the
bottom
of
it
.
Achilles
and
Patroclus
exit
.
Would
the
fountain
of
your
mind
were
clear
again
,
that
I
might
water
an
ass
at
it
.
I
had
rather
be
a
tick
in
a
sheep
than
such
a
valiant
ignorance
.
He
exits
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
Enter
at
one
door
Aeneas
with
a
Torchbearer
,
at
another
Paris
,
Deiphobus
,
Antenor
,
Diomedes
and
Grecians
with
torches
.
See
,
ho
!
Who
is
that
there
?
It
is
the
Lord
Aeneas
.
Is
the
Prince
there
in
person
?
—
Had
I
so
good
occasion
to
lie
long
As
you
,
Prince
Paris
,
nothing
but
heavenly
business
Should
rob
my
bedmate
of
my
company
.
That’s
my
mind
too
.
—
Good
morrow
,
Lord
Aeneas
.
A
valiant
Greek
,
Aeneas
;
take
his
hand
.
Witness
the
process
of
your
speech
,
wherein
You
told
how
Diomed
a
whole
week
by
days
Did
haunt
you
in
the
field
.
Health
to
you
,
valiant
sir
,
During
all
question
of
the
gentle
truce
;
But
when
I
meet
you
armed
,
as
black
defiance
As
heart
can
think
or
courage
execute
.
The
one
and
other
Diomed
embraces
.
Our
bloods
are
now
in
calm
,
and
,
so
long
,
health
;
But
when
contention
and
occasion
meet
,
ACT 4. SC. 1
By
Jove
,
I’ll
play
the
hunter
for
thy
life
With
all
my
force
,
pursuit
,
and
policy
.
And
thou
shalt
hunt
a
lion
that
will
fly
With
his
face
backward
.
In
human
gentleness
,
Welcome
to
Troy
.
Now
,
by
Anchises’
life
,
Welcome
indeed
.
By
Venus’
hand
I
swear
No
man
alive
can
love
in
such
a
sort
The
thing
he
means
to
kill
more
excellently
.
We
sympathize
.
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
honor
let
him
die
With
every
joint
a
wound
and
that
tomorrow
.
We
know
each
other
well
.
We
do
,
and
long
to
know
each
other
worse
.
This
is
the
most
despiteful
gentle
greeting
,
The
noblest
hateful
love
,
that
e’er
I
heard
of
.
To
Aeneas
.
What
business
,
lord
,
so
early
?
I
was
sent
for
to
the
King
,
but
why
I
know
not
.
His
purpose
meets
you
.
’Twas
to
bring
this
Greek
To
Calchas’
house
,
and
there
to
render
him
,
For
the
enfreed
Antenor
,
the
fair
Cressid
.
Let’s
have
your
company
,
or
,
if
you
please
,
Haste
there
before
us
.
(
Aside
to
Aeneas
.
)
I
constantly
believe
—
Or
,
rather
,
call
my
thought
a
certain
knowledge
—
My
brother
Troilus
lodges
there
tonight
.
Rouse
him
,
and
give
him
note
of
our
approach
,
With
the
whole
quality
whereof
.
I
fear
We
shall
be
much
unwelcome
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
,
aside
to
Paris
That
I
assure
you
.
Troilus
had
rather
Troy
were
borne
to
Greece
Than
Cressid
borne
from
Troy
.
,
aside
to
Aeneas
There
is
no
help
.
The
bitter
disposition
of
the
time
Will
have
it
so
.
—
On
,
lord
,
we’ll
follow
you
.
Good
morrow
,
all
.
Aeneas
exits
with
the
Torchbearer
.
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
?
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
dishonor
,
With
such
a
costly
loss
of
wealth
and
friends
.
He
,
like
a
puling
cuckold
,
would
drink
up
The
lees
and
dregs
of
a
flat
tamèd
piece
;
You
,
like
a
lecher
,
out
of
whorish
loins
Are
pleased
to
breed
out
your
inheritors
.
Both
merits
poised
,
each
weighs
nor
less
nor
more
;
But
he
as
he
,
the
heavier
for
a
whore
.
You
are
too
bitter
to
your
countrywoman
.
She’s
bitter
to
her
country
.
Hear
me
,
Paris
:
For
every
false
drop
in
her
bawdy
veins
A
Grecian’s
life
hath
sunk
;
for
every
scruple
Of
her
contaminated
carrion
weight
A
Trojan
hath
been
slain
.
Since
she
could
speak
,
She
hath
not
given
so
many
good
words
breath
As
for
her
Greeks
and
Trojans
suffered
death
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Fair
Diomed
,
you
do
as
chapmen
do
,
Dispraise
the
thing
that
they
desire
to
buy
.
But
we
in
silence
hold
this
virtue
well
:
We’ll
not
commend
that
not
intend
to
sell
.
Here
lies
our
way
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Troilus
and
Cressida
.
Dear
,
trouble
not
yourself
.
The
morn
is
cold
.
Then
,
sweet
my
lord
,
I’ll
call
mine
uncle
down
.
He
shall
unbolt
the
gates
.
Trouble
him
not
.
To
bed
,
to
bed
!
Sleep
kill
those
pretty
eyes
And
give
as
soft
attachment
to
thy
senses
As
infants’
empty
of
all
thought
!
Good
morrow
,
then
.
I
prithee
now
,
to
bed
.
Are
you
aweary
of
me
?
O
Cressida
!
But
that
the
busy
day
,
Waked
by
the
lark
,
hath
roused
the
ribald
crows
,
And
dreaming
night
will
hide
our
joys
no
longer
,
I
would
not
from
thee
.
Night
hath
been
too
brief
.
Beshrew
the
witch
!
With
venomous
wights
she
stays
As
tediously
as
hell
,
but
flies
the
grasps
of
love
With
wings
more
momentary-swift
than
thought
.
You
will
catch
cold
and
curse
me
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Prithee
,
tarry
.
You
men
will
never
tarry
.
O
foolish
Cressid
!
I
might
have
still
held
off
,
And
then
you
would
have
tarried
.
Hark
,
there’s
one
up
.
,
within
What’s
all
the
doors
open
here
?
It
is
your
uncle
.
A
pestilence
on
him
!
Now
will
he
be
mocking
.
I
shall
have
such
a
life
!
Enter
Pandarus
.
How
now
,
how
now
?
How
go
maidenheads
?
Here
,
you
maid
!
Where’s
my
Cousin
Cressid
?
Go
hang
yourself
,
you
naughty
mocking
uncle
.
You
bring
me
to
do
—
and
then
you
flout
me
too
.
To
do
what
,
to
do
what
?
—
Let
her
say
what
.
—
What
have
I
brought
you
to
do
?
Come
,
come
,
beshrew
your
heart
!
You’ll
ne’er
be
good
Nor
suffer
others
.
Ha
,
ha
!
Alas
,
poor
wretch
!
Ah
,
poor
capocchia
!
Has
’t
not
slept
tonight
?
Would
he
not
—
a
naughty
man
—
let
it
sleep
?
A
bugbear
take
him
!
,
to
Troilus
Did
not
I
tell
you
?
Would
he
were
knocked
i’
th’
head
!
One
knocks
.
Who’s
that
at
door
?
—
Good
uncle
,
go
and
see
.
—
My
lord
,
come
you
again
into
my
chamber
.
You
smile
and
mock
me
,
as
if
I
meant
naughtily
.
Ha
,
ha
!
Come
,
you
are
deceived
.
I
think
of
no
such
thing
.
Knock
.
How
earnestly
they
knock
!
Pray
you
,
come
in
.
I
would
not
for
half
Troy
have
you
seen
here
.
Troilus
and
Cressida
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Who’s
there
?
What’s
the
matter
?
Will
you
beat
down
the
door
?
Enter
Aeneas
.
How
now
?
What’s
the
matter
?
Good
morrow
,
lord
,
good
morrow
.
Who’s
there
?
My
Lord
Aeneas
?
By
my
troth
,
I
knew
you
not
.
What
news
with
you
so
early
?
Is
not
Prince
Troilus
here
?
Here
?
What
should
he
do
here
?
Come
,
he
is
here
,
my
lord
.
Do
not
deny
him
.
It
doth
import
him
much
to
speak
with
me
.
Is
he
here
,
say
you
?
It’s
more
than
I
know
,
I’ll
be
sworn
.
For
my
own
part
,
I
came
in
late
.
What
should
he
do
here
?
Ho
,
nay
,
then
!
Come
,
come
,
you’ll
do
him
wrong
ere
you
are
ware
.
You’ll
be
so
true
to
him
to
be
false
to
him
.
Do
not
you
know
of
him
,
but
yet
go
fetch
him
hither
.
Go
.
Enter
Troilus
.
How
now
?
What’s
the
matter
?
My
lord
,
I
scarce
have
leisure
to
salute
you
,
My
matter
is
so
rash
.
There
is
at
hand
Paris
your
brother
and
Deiphobus
,
The
Grecian
Diomed
,
and
our
Antenor
Delivered
to
us
;
and
for
him
forthwith
,
Ere
the
first
sacrifice
,
within
this
hour
,
We
must
give
up
to
Diomedes’
hand
The
Lady
Cressida
.
Is
it
so
concluded
?
By
Priam
and
the
general
state
of
Troy
.
They
are
at
hand
and
ready
to
effect
it
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
How
my
achievements
mock
me
!
I
will
go
meet
them
.
And
,
my
Lord
Aeneas
,
We
met
by
chance
;
you
did
not
find
me
here
.
Good
,
good
,
my
lord
;
the
secrets
of
nature
Have
not
more
gift
in
taciturnity
.
Troilus
and
Aeneas
exit
.
Is
’t
possible
?
No
sooner
got
but
lost
?
The
devil
take
Antenor
!
The
young
prince
will
go
mad
.
A
plague
upon
Antenor
!
I
would
they
had
broke
’s
neck
!
Enter
Cressida
.
How
now
?
What’s
the
matter
?
Who
was
here
?
Ah
,
ah
!
Why
sigh
you
so
profoundly
?
Where’s
my
lord
?
Gone
?
Tell
me
,
sweet
uncle
,
what’s
the
matter
?
Would
I
were
as
deep
under
the
earth
as
I
am
above
!
O
the
gods
!
What’s
the
matter
?
Pray
thee
,
get
thee
in
.
Would
thou
hadst
ne’er
been
born
!
I
knew
thou
wouldst
be
his
death
.
O
,
poor
gentleman
!
A
plague
upon
Antenor
!
Good
uncle
,
I
beseech
you
,
on
my
knees
I
beseech
you
,
what’s
the
matter
?
Thou
must
be
gone
,
wench
;
thou
must
be
gone
.
Thou
art
changed
for
Antenor
.
Thou
must
to
thy
father
and
be
gone
from
Troilus
.
’Twill
be
his
death
;
’twill
be
his
bane
.
He
cannot
bear
it
.
O
you
immortal
gods
!
I
will
not
go
.
Thou
must
.
I
will
not
,
uncle
.
I
have
forgot
my
father
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
I
know
no
touch
of
consanguinity
,
No
kin
,
no
love
,
no
blood
,
no
soul
so
near
me
As
the
sweet
Troilus
.
O
you
gods
divine
,
Make
Cressid’s
name
the
very
crown
of
falsehood
If
ever
she
leave
Troilus
!
Time
,
force
,
and
death
Do
to
this
body
what
extremes
you
can
,
But
the
strong
base
and
building
of
my
love
Is
as
the
very
center
of
the
Earth
earth
,
Drawing
all
things
to
it
.
I’ll
go
in
and
weep
—
Do
,
do
.
Tear
my
bright
hair
,
and
scratch
my
praisèd
cheeks
,
Crack
my
clear
voice
with
sobs
,
and
break
my
heart
With
sounding
Troilus
.
I
will
not
go
from
Troy
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Paris
,
Troilus
,
Aeneas
,
Deiphobus
,
Antenor
,
and
Diomedes
.
It
is
great
morning
,
and
the
hour
prefixed
For
her
delivery
to
this
valiant
Greek
Comes
fast
upon
.
Good
my
brother
Troilus
,
Tell
you
the
lady
what
she
is
to
do
And
haste
her
to
the
purpose
.
Walk
into
her
house
.
I’ll
bring
her
to
the
Grecian
presently
;
And
to
his
hand
when
I
deliver
her
,
Think
it
an
altar
and
thy
brother
Troilus
A
priest
there
off’ring
to
it
his
own
heart
.
He
exits
.
I
know
what
’tis
to
love
,
And
would
,
as
I
shall
pity
,
I
could
help
.
—
Please
you
walk
in
,
my
lords
?
They
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Scene
4
Enter
Pandarus
and
Cressida
,
weeping
.
Be
moderate
,
be
moderate
.
Why
tell
you
me
of
moderation
?
The
grief
is
fine
,
full
,
perfect
that
I
taste
,
And
violenteth
in
a
sense
as
strong
As
that
which
causeth
it
.
How
can
I
moderate
it
?
If
I
could
temporize
with
my
affection
Or
brew
it
to
a
weak
and
colder
palate
,
The
like
allayment
could
I
give
my
grief
.
My
love
admits
no
qualifying
dross
;
No
more
my
grief
in
such
a
precious
loss
.
Enter
Troilus
.
Here
,
here
,
here
he
comes
.
Ah
,
sweet
ducks
!
,
embracing
Troilus
O
Troilus
,
Troilus
!
What
a
pair
of
spectacles
is
here
!
Let
me
embrace
too
.
O
heart
,
as
the
goodly
saying
is
,
O
heart
,
heavy
heart
,
Why
sigh’st
thou
without
breaking
?
where
he
answers
again
,
Because
thou
canst
not
ease
thy
smart
By
friendship
nor
by
speaking
.
There
was
never
a
truer
rhyme
.
Let
us
cast
away
nothing
,
for
we
may
live
to
have
need
of
such
a
verse
.
We
see
it
,
we
see
it
.
How
now
,
lambs
?
Cressid
,
I
love
thee
in
so
strained
a
purity
That
the
blest
gods
,
as
angry
with
my
fancy
—
More
bright
in
zeal
than
the
devotion
which
Cold
lips
blow
to
their
deities
—
take
thee
from
me
.
Have
the
gods
envy
?
Ay
,
ay
,
ay
,
ay
,
’tis
too
plain
a
case
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
And
is
it
true
that
I
must
go
from
Troy
?
A
hateful
truth
.
What
,
and
from
Troilus
too
?
From
Troy
and
Troilus
.
Is
’t
possible
?
And
suddenly
,
where
injury
of
chance
Puts
back
leave-taking
,
jostles
roughly
by
All
time
of
pause
,
rudely
beguiles
our
lips
Of
all
rejoindure
,
forcibly
prevents
Our
locked
embrasures
,
strangles
our
dear
vows
Even
in
the
birth
of
our
own
laboring
breath
.
We
two
,
that
with
so
many
thousand
sighs
Did
buy
each
other
,
must
poorly
sell
ourselves
With
the
rude
brevity
and
discharge
of
one
.
Injurious
Time
now
with
a
robber’s
haste
Crams
his
rich
thiev’ry
up
,
he
knows
not
how
.
As
many
farewells
as
be
stars
in
heaven
,
With
distinct
breath
and
consigned
kisses
to
them
,
He
fumbles
up
into
a
loose
adieu
And
scants
us
with
a
single
famished
kiss
,
Distasted
with
the
salt
of
broken
tears
.
,
within
My
lord
,
is
the
lady
ready
?
Hark
,
you
are
called
.
Some
say
the
genius
Cries
so
to
him
that
instantly
must
die
.
—
Bid
them
have
patience
.
She
shall
come
anon
.
Where
are
my
tears
?
Rain
,
to
lay
this
wind
,
or
my
heart
will
be
blown
up
by
the
root
.
He
exits
.
I
must
,
then
,
to
the
Grecians
?
No
remedy
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
A
woeful
Cressid
’mongst
the
merry
Greeks
.
When
shall
we
see
again
?
Hear
me
,
my
love
.
Be
thou
but
true
of
heart
—
I
true
?
How
now
,
what
wicked
deem
is
this
?
Nay
,
we
must
use
expostulation
kindly
,
For
it
is
parting
from
us
.
I
speak
not
Be
thou
true
as
fearing
thee
,
For
I
will
throw
my
glove
to
Death
himself
That
there
is
no
maculation
in
thy
heart
;
But
Be
thou
true
,
say
I
,
to
fashion
in
My
sequent
protestation
:
Be
thou
true
,
And
I
will
see
thee
.
O
,
you
shall
be
exposed
,
my
lord
,
to
dangers
As
infinite
as
imminent
!
But
I’ll
be
true
.
And
I’ll
grow
friend
with
danger
.
Wear
this
sleeve
.
And
you
this
glove
.
When
shall
I
see
you
?
They
exchange
love-tokens
.
I
will
corrupt
the
Grecian
sentinels
,
To
give
thee
nightly
visitation
.
But
yet
,
be
true
.
O
heavens
!
Be
true
again
?
Hear
why
I
speak
it
,
love
.
The
Grecian
youths
are
full
of
quality
,
Their
loving
well
composed
,
with
gift
of
nature
flowing
,
And
swelling
o’er
with
arts
and
exercise
.
How
novelty
may
move
,
and
parts
with
person
,
Alas
,
a
kind
of
godly
jealousy
—
Which
I
beseech
you
call
a
virtuous
sin
—
Makes
me
afeard
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
O
heavens
,
you
love
me
not
!
Die
I
a
villain
then
!
In
this
I
do
not
call
your
faith
in
question
So
mainly
as
my
merit
.
I
cannot
sing
,
Nor
heel
the
high
lavolt
,
nor
sweeten
talk
,
Nor
play
at
subtle
games
—
fair
virtues
all
,
To
which
the
Grecians
are
most
prompt
and
pregnant
.
But
I
can
tell
that
in
each
grace
of
these
There
lurks
a
still
and
dumb-discursive
devil
That
tempts
most
cunningly
.
But
be
not
tempted
.
Do
you
think
I
will
?
No
.
But
something
may
be
done
that
we
will
not
,
And
sometimes
we
are
devils
to
ourselves
When
we
will
tempt
the
frailty
of
our
powers
,
Presuming
on
their
changeful
potency
.
,
within
Nay
,
good
my
lord
—
Come
,
kiss
,
and
let
us
part
.
They
kiss
.
,
within
Brother
Troilus
!
,
calling
Good
brother
,
come
you
hither
,
And
bring
Aeneas
and
the
Grecian
with
you
.
My
lord
,
will
you
be
true
?
Who
,
I
?
Alas
,
it
is
my
vice
,
my
fault
.
Whiles
others
fish
with
craft
for
great
opinion
,
I
with
great
truth
catch
mere
simplicity
.
Whilst
some
with
cunning
gild
their
copper
crowns
,
With
truth
and
plainness
I
do
wear
mine
bare
.
Fear
not
my
truth
.
The
moral
of
my
wit
Is
plain
and
true
;
there’s
all
the
reach
of
it
.
Enter
Aeneas
,
Paris
,
Antenor
,
Deiphobus
,
and
Diomedes
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Welcome
,
Sir
Diomed
.
Here
is
the
lady
Which
for
Antenor
we
deliver
you
.
At
the
port
,
lord
,
I’ll
give
her
to
thy
hand
And
by
the
way
possess
thee
what
she
is
.
Entreat
her
fair
and
,
by
my
soul
,
fair
Greek
,
If
e’er
thou
stand
at
mercy
of
my
sword
,
Name
Cressid
,
and
thy
life
shall
be
as
safe
As
Priam
is
in
Ilium
.
Fair
Lady
Cressid
,
So
please
you
,
save
the
thanks
this
prince
expects
.
The
luster
in
your
eye
,
heaven
in
your
cheek
,
Pleads
your
fair
usage
,
and
to
Diomed
You
shall
be
mistress
and
command
him
wholly
.
Grecian
,
thou
dost
not
use
me
courteously
,
To
shame
the
zeal
of
my
petition
to
thee
In
praising
her
.
I
tell
thee
,
lord
of
Greece
,
She
is
as
far
high-soaring
o’er
thy
praises
As
thou
unworthy
to
be
called
her
servant
.
I
charge
thee
use
her
well
,
even
for
my
charge
,
For
,
by
the
dreadful
Pluto
,
if
thou
dost
not
,
Though
the
great
bulk
Achilles
be
thy
guard
,
I’ll
cut
thy
throat
.
O
,
be
not
moved
,
Prince
Troilus
.
Let
me
be
privileged
by
my
place
and
message
To
be
a
speaker
free
.
When
I
am
hence
,
I’ll
answer
to
my
lust
,
and
know
you
,
lord
,
I’ll
nothing
do
on
charge
.
To
her
own
worth
She
shall
be
prized
;
but
that
you
say
Be
’t
so
,
I
speak
it
in
my
spirit
and
honor
:
no
.
Come
,
to
the
port
.
I’ll
tell
thee
,
Diomed
,
This
brave
shall
oft
make
thee
to
hide
thy
head
.
—
Lady
,
give
me
your
hand
,
and
,
as
we
walk
,
To
our
own
selves
bend
we
our
needful
talk
.
Cressida
,
Diomedes
,
and
Troilus
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Sound
trumpet
within
.
Hark
,
Hector’s
trumpet
.
How
have
we
spent
this
morning
!
The
Prince
must
think
me
tardy
and
remiss
That
swore
to
ride
before
him
to
the
field
.
’Tis
Troilus’
fault
.
Come
,
come
to
field
with
him
.
Let
us
make
ready
straight
.
Yea
,
with
a
bridegroom’s
fresh
alacrity
Let
us
address
to
tend
on
Hector’s
heels
.
The
glory
of
our
Troy
doth
this
day
lie
On
his
fair
worth
and
single
chivalry
.
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Enter
Ajax
,
armed
,
Achilles
,
Patroclus
,
Agamemnon
,
Menelaus
,
Ulysses
,
Nestor
,
etc.
and
Trumpeter
.
,
to
Ajax
Here
art
thou
in
appointment
fresh
and
fair
,
Anticipating
time
with
starting
courage
.
Give
with
thy
trumpet
a
loud
note
to
Troy
,
Thou
dreadful
Ajax
,
that
the
appallèd
air
May
pierce
the
head
of
the
great
combatant
And
hale
him
hither
.
Thou
,
trumpet
,
there’s
my
purse
.
He
gives
money
to
Trumpeter
.
Now
crack
thy
lungs
and
split
thy
brazen
pipe
.
Blow
,
villain
,
till
thy
spherèd
bias
cheek
Outswell
the
colic
of
puffed
Aquilon
.
Come
,
stretch
thy
chest
,
and
let
thy
eyes
spout
blood
.
Thou
blowest
for
Hector
.
Sound
trumpet
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
No
trumpet
answers
.
’Tis
but
early
days
.
Enter
Cressida
and
Diomedes
.
Is
not
yond
Diomed
with
Calchas’
daughter
?
’Tis
he
.
I
ken
the
manner
of
his
gait
.
He
rises
on
the
toe
;
that
spirit
of
his
In
aspiration
lifts
him
from
the
earth
.
Is
this
the
Lady
Cressid
?
Even
she
.
Most
dearly
welcome
to
the
Greeks
,
sweet
lady
.
He
kisses
her
.
Our
general
doth
salute
you
with
a
kiss
.
Yet
is
the
kindness
but
particular
.
’Twere
better
she
were
kissed
in
general
.
And
very
courtly
counsel
.
I’ll
begin
.
He
kisses
her
.
So
much
for
Nestor
.
I’ll
take
that
winter
from
your
lips
,
fair
lady
.
Achilles
bids
you
welcome
.
He
kisses
her
.
I
had
good
argument
for
kissing
once
.
,
stepping
between
Menelaus
and
Cressida
But
that’s
no
argument
for
kissing
now
,
For
thus
popped
Paris
in
his
hardiment
And
parted
thus
you
and
your
argument
.
He
kisses
her
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
O
deadly
gall
and
theme
of
all
our
scorns
,
For
which
we
lose
our
heads
to
gild
his
horns
!
The
first
was
Menelaus’
kiss
;
this
mine
.
Patroclus
kisses
you
.
He
kisses
her
again
.
O
,
this
is
trim
!
Paris
and
I
kiss
evermore
for
him
.
I’ll
have
my
kiss
,
sir
.
—
Lady
,
by
your
leave
.
In
kissing
,
do
you
render
or
receive
?
Both
take
and
give
.
I’ll
make
my
match
to
live
,
The
kiss
you
take
is
better
than
you
give
.
Therefore
no
kiss
.
I’ll
give
you
boot
:
I’ll
give
you
three
for
one
.
You
are
an
odd
man
.
Give
even
,
or
give
none
.
An
odd
man
,
lady
?
Every
man
is
odd
.
No
,
Paris
is
not
,
for
you
know
’tis
true
That
you
are
odd
,
and
he
is
even
with
you
.
You
fillip
me
o’
th’
head
.
No
,
I’ll
be
sworn
.
It
were
no
match
,
your
nail
against
his
horn
.
May
I
,
sweet
lady
,
beg
a
kiss
of
you
?
You
may
.
I
do
desire
it
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Why
,
beg
two
.
Why
,
then
,
for
Venus’
sake
,
give
me
a
kiss
When
Helen
is
a
maid
again
and
his
.
I
am
your
debtor
;
claim
it
when
’tis
due
.
Never’s
my
day
,
and
then
a
kiss
of
you
.
Lady
,
a
word
.
I’ll
bring
you
to
your
father
.
Diomedes
and
Cressida
talk
aside
.
A
woman
of
quick
sense
.
Fie
,
fie
upon
her
!
There’s
language
in
her
eye
,
her
cheek
,
her
lip
;
Nay
,
her
foot
speaks
.
Her
wanton
spirits
look
out
At
every
joint
and
motive
of
her
body
.
O
,
these
encounterers
,
so
glib
of
tongue
,
That
give
accosting
welcome
ere
it
comes
And
wide
unclasp
the
tables
of
their
thoughts
To
every
tickling
reader
!
Set
them
down
For
sluttish
spoils
of
opportunity
And
daughters
of
the
game
.
Diomedes
and
Cressida
exit
.
Flourish
.
The
Trojan’s
trumpet
.
Enter
all
of
Troy
:
Hector
,
armed
,
Paris
,
Aeneas
,
Helenus
,
Troilus
,
and
Attendants
.
Yonder
comes
the
troop
.
Hail
,
all
the
state
of
Greece
!
What
shall
be
done
To
him
that
victory
commands
?
Or
do
you
purpose
A
victor
shall
be
known
?
Will
you
the
knights
Shall
to
the
edge
of
all
extremity
ACT 4. SC. 5
Pursue
each
other
,
or
shall
they
be
divided
By
any
voice
or
order
of
the
field
?
Hector
bade
ask
.
Which
way
would
Hector
have
it
?
He
cares
not
;
he’ll
obey
conditions
.
’Tis
done
like
Hector
.
But
securely
done
,
A
little
proudly
,
and
great
deal
misprizing
The
knight
opposed
.
If
not
Achilles
,
sir
,
What
is
your
name
?
If
not
Achilles
,
nothing
.
Therefore
Achilles
.
But
whate’er
,
know
this
:
In
the
extremity
of
great
and
little
,
Valor
and
pride
excel
themselves
in
Hector
,
The
one
almost
as
infinite
as
all
,
The
other
blank
as
nothing
.
Weigh
him
well
,
And
that
which
looks
like
pride
is
courtesy
.
This
Ajax
is
half
made
of
Hector’s
blood
,
In
love
whereof
half
Hector
stays
at
home
;
Half
heart
,
half
hand
,
half
Hector
comes
to
seek
This
blended
knight
,
half
Trojan
and
half
Greek
.
A
maiden
battle
,
then
?
O
,
I
perceive
you
.
Enter
Diomedes
.
Here
is
Sir
Diomed
.
—
Go
,
gentle
knight
;
Stand
by
our
Ajax
.
As
you
and
Lord
Aeneas
Consent
upon
the
order
of
their
fight
,
So
be
it
,
either
to
the
uttermost
Or
else
a
breath
.
The
combatants
being
kin
Half
stints
their
strife
before
their
strokes
begin
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Hector
and
Ajax
enter
the
lists
.
They
are
opposed
already
.
What
Trojan
is
that
same
that
looks
so
heavy
?
The
youngest
son
of
Priam
,
a
true
knight
,
Not
yet
mature
,
yet
matchless
firm
of
word
,
Speaking
in
deeds
,
and
deedless
in
his
tongue
,
Not
soon
provoked
,
nor
being
provoked
soon
calmed
,
His
heart
and
hand
both
open
and
both
free
.
For
what
he
has
,
he
gives
;
what
thinks
,
he
shows
;
Yet
gives
he
not
till
judgment
guide
his
bounty
,
Nor
dignifies
an
impair
thought
with
breath
;
Manly
as
Hector
,
but
more
dangerous
,
For
Hector
in
his
blaze
of
wrath
subscribes
To
tender
objects
,
but
he
in
heat
of
action
Is
more
vindicative
than
jealous
love
.
They
call
him
Troilus
,
and
on
him
erect
A
second
hope
,
as
fairly
built
as
Hector
.
Thus
says
Aeneas
,
one
that
knows
the
youth
Even
to
his
inches
,
and
with
private
soul
Did
in
great
Ilium
thus
translate
him
to
me
.
Alarum
.
The
fight
begins
.
They
are
in
action
.
Now
,
Ajax
,
hold
thine
own
!
Hector
,
thou
sleep’st
.
Awake
thee
!
His
blows
are
well
disposed
.
—
There
,
Ajax
!
Trumpets
cease
.
You
must
no
more
.
Princes
,
enough
,
so
please
you
.
I
am
not
warm
yet
.
Let
us
fight
again
.
As
Hector
pleases
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Why
,
then
,
will
I
no
more
.
—
Thou
art
,
great
lord
,
my
father’s
sister’s
son
,
A
cousin-german
to
great
Priam’s
seed
.
The
obligation
of
our
blood
forbids
A
gory
emulation
’twixt
us
twain
.
Were
thy
commixtion
Greek
and
Trojan
so
That
thou
couldst
say
This
hand
is
Grecian
all
,
And
this
is
Trojan
;
the
sinews
of
this
leg
All
Greek
,
and
this
all
Troy
;
my
mother’s
blood
Runs
on
the
dexter
cheek
,
and
this
sinister
Bounds
in
my
father’s
,
by
Jove
multipotent
,
Thou
shouldst
not
bear
from
me
a
Greekish
member
Wherein
my
sword
had
not
impressure
made
Of
our
rank
feud
.
But
the
just
gods
gainsay
That
any
drop
thou
borrowd’st
from
thy
mother
,
My
sacred
aunt
,
should
by
my
mortal
sword
Be
drained
.
Let
me
embrace
thee
,
Ajax
.
By
him
that
thunders
,
thou
hast
lusty
arms
!
Hector
would
have
them
fall
upon
him
thus
.
Cousin
,
all
honor
to
thee
!
They
embrace
.
I
thank
thee
,
Hector
.
Thou
art
too
gentle
and
too
free
a
man
.
I
came
to
kill
thee
,
cousin
,
and
bear
hence
A
great
addition
earnèd
in
thy
death
.
Not
Neoptolemus
so
mirable
—
On
whose
bright
crest
Fame
with
her
loud’st
Oyez
Cries
This
is
he
—
could
promise
to
himself
A
thought
of
added
honor
torn
from
Hector
.
There
is
expectance
here
from
both
the
sides
What
further
you
will
do
.
We’ll
answer
it
;
The
issue
is
embracement
.
—
Ajax
,
farewell
.
They
embrace
again
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
If
I
might
in
entreaties
find
success
,
As
seld
I
have
the
chance
,
I
would
desire
My
famous
cousin
to
our
Grecian
tents
.
’Tis
Agamemnon’s
wish
;
and
great
Achilles
Doth
long
to
see
unarmed
the
valiant
Hector
.
Aeneas
,
call
my
brother
Troilus
to
me
,
And
signify
this
loving
interview
To
the
expecters
of
our
Trojan
part
;
Desire
them
home
.
Aeneas
speaks
to
Trojans
,
who
exit
;
he
then
returns
with
Troilus
.
To
Ajax
.
Give
me
thy
hand
,
my
cousin
.
I
will
go
eat
with
thee
and
see
your
knights
.
Agamemnon
and
the
rest
come
forward
.
Great
Agamemnon
comes
to
meet
us
here
.
,
to
Aeneas
The
worthiest
of
them
tell
me
name
by
name
;
But
for
Achilles
,
my
own
searching
eyes
Shall
find
him
by
his
large
and
portly
size
.
Worthy
all
arms
!
As
welcome
as
to
one
That
would
be
rid
of
such
an
enemy
—
But
that’s
no
welcome
.
Understand
more
clear
:
What’s
past
and
what’s
to
come
is
strewed
with
husks
And
formless
ruin
of
oblivion
;
But
in
this
extant
moment
,
faith
and
troth
,
Strained
purely
from
all
hollow
bias-drawing
,
Bids
thee
,
with
most
divine
integrity
,
From
heart
of
very
heart
,
great
Hector
,
welcome
.
I
thank
thee
,
most
imperious
Agamemnon
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
,
to
Troilus
My
well-famed
lord
of
Troy
,
no
less
to
you
.
Let
me
confirm
my
princely
brother’s
greeting
:
You
brace
of
warlike
brothers
,
welcome
hither
.
,
to
Aeneas
Who
must
we
answer
?
The
noble
Menelaus
.
O
,
you
,
my
lord
?
By
Mars
his
gauntlet
,
thanks
!
Mock
not
that
I
affect
th’
untraded
oath
;
Your
quondam
wife
swears
still
by
Venus’
glove
.
She’s
well
,
but
bade
me
not
commend
her
to
you
.
Name
her
not
now
,
sir
;
she’s
a
deadly
theme
.
O
,
pardon
!
I
offend
.
I
have
,
thou
gallant
Trojan
,
seen
thee
oft
,
Laboring
for
destiny
,
make
cruel
way
Through
ranks
of
Greekish
youth
;
and
I
have
seen
thee
,
As
hot
as
Perseus
,
spur
thy
Phrygian
steed
,
Despising
many
forfeits
and
subduments
,
When
thou
hast
hung
thy
advanced
sword
i’
th’
air
,
Not
letting
it
decline
on
the
declined
,
That
I
have
said
to
some
my
standers-by
Lo
,
Jupiter
is
yonder
,
dealing
life
!
And
I
have
seen
thee
pause
and
take
thy
breath
When
that
a
ring
of
Greeks
have
hemmed
thee
in
,
Like
an
Olympian
wrestling
.
This
have
I
seen
.
But
this
thy
countenance
,
still
locked
in
steel
,
I
never
saw
till
now
.
I
knew
thy
grandsire
And
once
fought
with
him
;
he
was
a
soldier
good
,
But
,
by
great
Mars
,
the
captain
of
us
all
,
Never
like
thee
!
O
,
let
an
old
man
embrace
thee
;
And
,
worthy
warrior
,
welcome
to
our
tents
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
,
to
Hector
’Tis
the
old
Nestor
.
Let
me
embrace
thee
,
good
old
chronicle
That
hast
so
long
walked
hand
in
hand
with
time
.
Most
reverend
Nestor
,
I
am
glad
to
clasp
thee
.
They
embrace
.
I
would
my
arms
could
match
thee
in
contention
As
they
contend
with
thee
in
courtesy
.
I
would
they
could
.
Ha
!
By
this
white
beard
,
I’d
fight
with
thee
tomorrow
.
Well
,
welcome
,
welcome
.
I
have
seen
the
time
!
I
wonder
now
how
yonder
city
stands
When
we
have
here
her
base
and
pillar
by
us
.
I
know
your
favor
,
Lord
Ulysses
,
well
.
Ah
,
sir
,
there’s
many
a
Greek
and
Trojan
dead
Since
first
I
saw
yourself
and
Diomed
In
Ilium
,
on
your
Greekish
embassy
.
Sir
,
I
foretold
you
then
what
would
ensue
.
My
prophecy
is
but
half
his
journey
yet
,
For
yonder
walls
,
that
pertly
front
your
town
,
Yon
towers
,
whose
wanton
tops
do
buss
the
clouds
,
Must
kiss
their
own
feet
.
I
must
not
believe
you
.
There
they
stand
yet
,
and
modestly
I
think
The
fall
of
every
Phrygian
stone
will
cost
A
drop
of
Grecian
blood
.
The
end
crowns
all
,
And
that
old
common
arbitrator
,
Time
,
Will
one
day
end
it
.
So
to
him
we
leave
it
.
Most
gentle
and
most
valiant
Hector
,
welcome
.
After
the
General
,
I
beseech
you
next
To
feast
with
me
and
see
me
at
my
tent
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
I
shall
forestall
thee
,
Lord
Ulysses
,
thou
!
—
Now
,
Hector
,
I
have
fed
mine
eyes
on
thee
;
I
have
with
exact
view
perused
thee
,
Hector
,
And
quoted
joint
by
joint
.
Is
this
Achilles
?
I
am
Achilles
.
Stand
fair
,
I
pray
thee
.
Let
me
look
on
thee
.
Behold
thy
fill
.
Nay
,
I
have
done
already
.
Thou
art
too
brief
.
I
will
the
second
time
,
As
I
would
buy
thee
,
view
thee
limb
by
limb
.
O
,
like
a
book
of
sport
thou
’lt
read
me
o’er
;
But
there’s
more
in
me
than
thou
understand’st
.
Why
dost
thou
so
oppress
me
with
thine
eye
?
Tell
me
,
you
heavens
,
in
which
part
of
his
body
Shall
I
destroy
him
—
whether
there
,
or
there
,
or
there
—
That
I
may
give
the
local
wound
a
name
And
make
distinct
the
very
breach
whereout
Hector’s
great
spirit
flew
.
Answer
me
,
heavens
!
It
would
discredit
the
blest
gods
,
proud
man
,
To
answer
such
a
question
.
Stand
again
.
Think’st
thou
to
catch
my
life
so
pleasantly
As
to
prenominate
in
nice
conjecture
Where
thou
wilt
hit
me
dead
?
I
tell
thee
,
yea
.
Wert
thou
an
oracle
to
tell
me
so
,
I’d
not
believe
thee
.
Henceforth
guard
thee
well
,
ACT 4. SC. 5
For
I’ll
not
kill
thee
there
,
nor
there
,
nor
there
,
But
,
by
the
forge
that
stithied
Mars
his
helm
,
I’ll
kill
thee
everywhere
,
yea
,
o’er
and
o’er
.
—
You
wisest
Grecians
,
pardon
me
this
brag
;
His
insolence
draws
folly
from
my
lips
.
But
I’ll
endeavor
deeds
to
match
these
words
,
Or
may
I
never
—
Do
not
chafe
thee
,
cousin
.
—
And
you
,
Achilles
,
let
these
threats
alone
Till
accident
or
purpose
bring
you
to
’t
.
You
may
have
every
day
enough
of
Hector
If
you
have
stomach
.
The
general
state
,
I
fear
,
Can
scarce
entreat
you
to
be
odd
with
him
.
,
to
Achilles
I
pray
you
,
let
us
see
you
in
the
field
.
We
have
had
pelting
wars
since
you
refused
The
Grecians’
cause
.
Dost
thou
entreat
me
,
Hector
?
Tomorrow
do
I
meet
thee
,
fell
as
death
;
Tonight
all
friends
.
Thy
hand
upon
that
match
.
First
,
all
you
peers
of
Greece
,
go
to
my
tent
;
There
in
the
full
convive
we
.
Afterwards
,
As
Hector’s
leisure
and
your
bounties
shall
Concur
together
,
severally
entreat
him
.
Beat
loud
the
taborins
;
let
the
trumpets
blow
,
That
this
great
soldier
may
his
welcome
know
.
Flourish
.
All
but
Troilus
and
Ulysses
exit
.
My
Lord
Ulysses
,
tell
me
,
I
beseech
you
,
In
what
place
of
the
field
doth
Calchas
keep
?
At
Menelaus’
tent
,
most
princely
Troilus
.
There
Diomed
doth
feast
with
him
tonight
,
ACT 4. SC. 5
Who
neither
looks
upon
the
heaven
nor
Earth
earth
,
But
gives
all
gaze
and
bent
of
amorous
view
On
the
fair
Cressid
.
Shall
I
,
sweet
lord
,
be
bound
to
you
so
much
,
After
we
part
from
Agamemnon’s
tent
,
To
bring
me
thither
?
You
shall
command
me
,
sir
.
As
gentle
tell
me
,
of
what
honor
was
This
Cressida
in
Troy
?
Had
she
no
lover
there
That
wails
her
absence
?
O
sir
,
to
such
as
boasting
show
their
scars
A
mock
is
due
.
Will
you
walk
on
,
my
lord
?
She
was
beloved
,
she
loved
;
she
is
,
and
doth
;
But
still
sweet
love
is
food
for
Fortune’s
tooth
.
They
exit
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Enter
Achilles
and
Patroclus
.
I’ll
heat
his
blood
with
Greekish
wine
tonight
,
Which
with
my
scimitar
I’ll
cool
tomorrow
.
Patroclus
,
let
us
feast
him
to
the
height
.
Here
comes
Thersites
.
Enter
Thersites
.
How
now
,
thou
core
of
envy
?
Thou
crusty
botch
of
nature
,
what’s
the
news
?
Why
,
thou
picture
of
what
thou
seemest
and
idol
of
idiot-worshippers
,
here’s
a
letter
for
thee
.
From
whence
,
fragment
?
Why
,
thou
full
dish
of
fool
,
from
Troy
.
Achilles
takes
the
letter
and
moves
aside
to
read
it
.
Who
keeps
the
tent
now
?
The
surgeon’s
box
or
the
patient’s
wound
.
Well
said
,
adversity
.
And
what
need
these
tricks
?
Prithee
,
be
silent
,
boy
.
I
profit
not
by
thy
talk
.
Thou
art
said
to
be
Achilles’
male
varlet
.
Male
varlet
,
you
rogue
!
What’s
that
?
Why
,
his
masculine
whore
.
Now
the
rotten
diseases
of
the
south
,
the
guts-griping
,
ruptures
,
ACT 5. SC. 1
catarrhs
,
loads
o’
gravel
in
the
back
,
lethargies
,
cold
palsies
,
raw
eyes
,
dirt-rotten
livers
,
whissing
lungs
,
bladders
full
of
impostume
,
sciaticas
,
limekilns
i’
th’
palm
,
incurable
bone-ache
,
and
the
rivelled
fee-simple
of
the
tetter
,
take
and
take
again
such
preposterous
discoveries
.
Why
,
thou
damnable
box
of
envy
,
thou
,
what
means
thou
to
curse
thus
?
Do
I
curse
thee
?
Why
,
no
,
you
ruinous
butt
,
you
whoreson
indistinguishable
cur
,
no
.
No
?
Why
art
thou
then
exasperate
,
thou
idle
immaterial
skein
of
sleave-silk
,
thou
green
sarsenet
flap
for
a
sore
eye
,
thou
tassel
of
a
prodigal’s
purse
,
thou
?
Ah
,
how
the
poor
world
is
pestered
with
such
waterflies
,
diminutives
of
nature
!
Out
,
gall
!
Finch
egg
!
,
coming
forward
My
sweet
Patroclus
,
I
am
thwarted
quite
From
my
great
purpose
in
tomorrow’s
battle
.
Here
is
a
letter
from
Queen
Hecuba
,
A
token
from
her
daughter
,
my
fair
love
,
Both
taxing
me
and
gaging
me
to
keep
An
oath
that
I
have
sworn
.
I
will
not
break
it
.
Fall
,
Greeks
;
fail
,
fame
;
honor
,
or
go
or
stay
;
My
major
vow
lies
here
;
this
I’ll
obey
.
Come
,
come
,
Thersites
,
help
to
trim
my
tent
.
This
night
in
banqueting
must
all
be
spent
.
Away
,
Patroclus
.
He
exits
with
Patroclus
.
With
too
much
blood
and
too
little
brain
,
these
two
may
run
mad
;
but
if
with
too
much
brain
and
too
little
blood
they
do
,
I’ll
be
a
curer
of
madmen
.
Here’s
Agamemnon
,
an
honest
fellow
enough
and
one
that
loves
quails
,
but
he
has
not
so
much
brain
as
earwax
.
And
the
goodly
transformation
ACT 5. SC. 1
of
Jupiter
there
,
his
brother
,
the
bull
—
the
primitive
statue
and
oblique
memorial
of
cuckolds
,
a
thrifty
shoeing-horn
in
a
chain
,
hanging
at
his
brother’s
leg
—
to
what
form
but
that
he
is
should
wit
larded
with
malice
and
malice
forced
with
wit
turn
him
to
?
To
an
ass
were
nothing
;
he
is
both
ass
and
ox
.
To
an
ox
were
nothing
;
he
is
both
ox
and
ass
.
To
be
a
dog
,
a
mule
,
a
cat
,
a
fitchew
,
a
toad
,
a
lizard
,
an
owl
,
a
puttock
,
or
a
herring
without
a
roe
,
I
would
not
care
;
but
to
be
Menelaus
!
I
would
conspire
against
destiny
.
Ask
me
not
what
I
would
be
,
if
I
were
not
Thersites
,
for
I
care
not
to
be
the
louse
of
a
lazar
so
I
were
not
Menelaus
.
Enter
Hector
,
Troilus
,
Ajax
,
Agamemnon
,
Ulysses
,
Nestor
,
Menelaus
,
and
Diomedes
,
with
lights
.
Heyday
!
Sprites
and
fires
!
We
go
wrong
,
we
go
wrong
.
No
,
yonder
—
’tis
there
,
where
we
see
the
lights
.
I
trouble
you
.
No
,
not
a
whit
.
Enter
Achilles
.
,
to
Hector
Here
comes
himself
to
guide
you
.
Welcome
,
brave
Hector
.
Welcome
,
princes
all
.
,
to
Hector
So
now
,
fair
prince
of
Troy
,
I
bid
good
night
.
Ajax
commands
the
guard
to
tend
on
you
.
Thanks
,
and
good
night
to
the
Greeks’
general
.
Good
night
,
my
lord
.
Good
night
,
sweet
lord
Menelaus
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
,
aside
Sweet
draught
.
Sweet
,
quoth
he
?
Sweet
sink
,
sweet
sewer
.
Good
night
and
welcome
,
both
at
once
,
to
those
That
go
or
tarry
.
Good
night
.
Agamemnon
and
Menelaus
exit
.
Old
Nestor
tarries
,
and
you
too
,
Diomed
.
Keep
Hector
company
an
hour
or
two
.
I
cannot
,
lord
.
I
have
important
business
,
The
tide
whereof
is
now
.
—
Good
night
,
great
Hector
.
Give
me
your
hand
.
,
aside
to
Troilus
Follow
his
torch
;
he
goes
to
Calchas’
tent
.
I’ll
keep
you
company
.
Sweet
sir
,
you
honor
me
.
And
so
,
good
night
.
Diomedes
exits
,
followed
by
Troilus
and
Ulysses
.
Come
,
come
,
enter
my
tent
.
Achilles
,
Ajax
,
Nestor
,
and
Hector
exit
.
That
same
Diomed’s
a
false-hearted
rogue
,
a
most
unjust
knave
.
I
will
no
more
trust
him
when
he
leers
than
I
will
a
serpent
when
he
hisses
.
He
will
spend
his
mouth
and
promise
like
Brabbler
the
hound
,
but
when
he
performs
,
astronomers
foretell
it
;
it
is
prodigious
,
there
will
come
some
change
.
The
sun
borrows
of
the
moon
when
Diomed
keeps
his
word
.
I
will
rather
leave
to
see
Hector
than
not
to
dog
him
.
They
say
he
keeps
a
Trojan
drab
and
uses
the
traitor
Calchas
his
tent
.
I’ll
after
.
Nothing
but
lechery
!
All
incontinent
varlets
!
He
exits
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Diomedes
.
What
,
are
you
up
here
,
ho
?
Speak
.
,
within
Who
calls
?
Diomed
.
Calchas
,
I
think
?
Where’s
your
daughter
?
,
within
She
comes
to
you
.
Enter
Troilus
and
Ulysses
,
at
a
distance
,
and
then
,
apart
from
them
,
Thersites
.
,
aside
to
Troilus
Stand
where
the
torch
may
not
discover
us
.
Enter
Cressida
.
,
aside
to
Ulysses
Cressid
comes
forth
to
him
.
How
now
,
my
charge
?
Now
,
my
sweet
guardian
.
Hark
,
a
word
with
you
.
She
whispers
to
him
.
,
aside
Yea
,
so
familiar
?
,
aside
to
Troilus
She
will
sing
any
man
at
first
sight
.
,
aside
And
any
man
may
sing
her
,
if
he
can
take
her
clef
.
She’s
noted
.
Will
you
remember
?
Remember
?
Yes
.
Nay
,
but
do
,
then
,
and
let
your
mind
be
coupled
with
your
words
.
,
aside
What
should
she
remember
?
,
aside
to
Troilus
List
!
Sweet
honey
Greek
,
tempt
me
no
more
to
folly
.
,
aside
Roguery
!
Nay
,
then
—
ACT 5. SC. 2
I’ll
tell
you
what
—
Foh
,
foh
,
come
,
tell
a
pin
!
You
are
forsworn
.
In
faith
,
I
cannot
.
What
would
you
have
me
do
?
,
aside
A
juggling
trick
:
to
be
secretly
open
!
What
did
you
swear
you
would
bestow
on
me
?
I
prithee
,
do
not
hold
me
to
mine
oath
.
Bid
me
do
anything
but
that
,
sweet
Greek
.
Good
night
.
,
aside
Hold
,
patience
!
,
aside
to
Troilus
How
now
,
Trojan
?
Diomed
—
No
,
no
,
good
night
.
I’ll
be
your
fool
no
more
.
,
aside
Thy
better
must
.
Hark
,
a
word
in
your
ear
.
She
whispers
to
him
.
,
aside
O
plague
and
madness
!
,
aside
to
Troilus
You
are
moved
,
prince
.
Let
us
depart
,
I
pray
you
,
Lest
your
displeasure
should
enlarge
itself
To
wrathful
terms
.
This
place
is
dangerous
;
The
time
right
deadly
.
I
beseech
you
,
go
.
,
aside
to
Ulysses
Behold
,
I
pray
you
.
,
aside
to
Troilus
Nay
,
good
my
lord
,
go
off
.
You
flow
to
great
distraction
.
Come
,
my
lord
.
,
aside
to
Ulysses
I
prithee
,
stay
.
,
aside
to
Troilus
You
have
not
patience
.
Come
.
,
aside
to
Ulysses
I
pray
you
,
stay
.
By
hell
and
all
hell’s
torments
,
I
will
not
speak
a
word
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
And
so
good
night
.
He
starts
to
leave
.
Nay
,
but
you
part
in
anger
.
,
aside
Doth
that
grieve
thee
?
O
withered
truth
!
,
aside
to
Troilus
How
now
,
my
lord
?
,
aside
to
Ulysses
By
Jove
,
I
will
be
patient
.
Guardian
!
Why
,
Greek
!
Foh
foh
!
Adieu
.
You
palter
.
In
faith
,
I
do
not
.
Come
hither
once
again
.
,
aside
to
Troilus
You
shake
,
my
lord
,
at
something
.
Will
you
go
?
You
will
break
out
.
,
aside
She
strokes
his
cheek
!
,
aside
to
Troilus
Come
,
come
.
,
aside
to
Ulysses
Nay
,
stay
.
By
Jove
,
I
will
not
speak
a
word
.
There
is
between
my
will
and
all
offenses
A
guard
of
patience
.
Stay
a
little
while
.
,
aside
How
the
devil
Luxury
,
with
his
fat
rump
and
potato
finger
,
tickles
these
together
.
Fry
,
lechery
,
fry
!
But
will
you
,
then
?
In
faith
,
I
will
,
la
.
Never
trust
me
else
.
Give
me
some
token
for
the
surety
of
it
.
I’ll
fetch
you
one
.
She
exits
.
,
aside
to
Troilus
You
have
sworn
patience
.
,
aside
to
Ulysses
Fear
me
not
,
my
lord
.
I
will
not
be
myself
nor
have
cognition
Of
what
I
feel
.
I
am
all
patience
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Enter
Cressida
with
Troilus’s
sleeve
.
,
aside
Now
the
pledge
,
now
,
now
,
now
!
,
giving
the
sleeve
Here
,
Diomed
.
Keep
this
sleeve
.
,
aside
O
beauty
,
where
is
thy
faith
?
,
aside
to
Troilus
My
lord
—
,
aside
to
Ulysses
I
will
be
patient
;
outwardly
I
will
.
You
look
upon
that
sleeve
?
Behold
it
well
.
He
loved
me
—
O
false
wench
!
—
Give
’t
me
again
.
She
snatches
the
sleeve
from
Diomedes
.
Whose
was
’t
?
It
is
no
matter
,
now
I
ha
’t
again
.
I
will
not
meet
with
you
tomorrow
night
.
I
prithee
,
Diomed
,
visit
me
no
more
.
,
aside
Now
she
sharpens
.
Well
said
,
whetstone
.
I
shall
have
it
.
What
,
this
?
Ay
,
that
.
O
all
you
gods
!
—
O
pretty
,
pretty
pledge
!
Thy
master
now
lies
thinking
on
his
bed
Of
thee
and
me
,
and
sighs
,
and
takes
my
glove
,
And
gives
memorial
dainty
kisses
to
it
As
I
kiss
thee
.
He
grabs
the
sleeve
,
and
she
tries
to
retrieve
it
.
Nay
,
do
not
snatch
it
from
me
.
He
that
takes
that
doth
take
my
heart
withal
.
I
had
your
heart
before
.
This
follows
it
.
,
aside
I
did
swear
patience
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
You
shall
not
have
it
,
Diomed
,
faith
,
you
shall
not
.
I’ll
give
you
something
else
.
I
will
have
this
.
Whose
was
it
?
It
is
no
matter
.
Come
,
tell
me
whose
it
was
.
’Twas
one’s
that
loved
me
better
than
you
will
.
But
now
you
have
it
,
take
it
.
Whose
was
it
?
By
all
Diana’s
waiting-women
yond
,
And
by
herself
,
I
will
not
tell
you
whose
.
Tomorrow
will
I
wear
it
on
my
helm
And
grieve
his
spirit
that
dares
not
challenge
it
.
,
aside
Wert
thou
the
devil
and
wor’st
it
on
thy
horn
,
It
should
be
challenged
.
Well
,
well
,
’tis
done
,
’tis
past
.
And
yet
it
is
not
.
I
will
not
keep
my
word
.
Why
,
then
,
farewell
.
Thou
never
shalt
mock
Diomed
again
.
He
starts
to
leave
.
You
shall
not
go
.
One
cannot
speak
a
word
But
it
straight
starts
you
.
I
do
not
like
this
fooling
.
,
aside
Nor
I
,
by
Pluto
!
But
that
that
likes
not
you
Pleases
me
best
.
What
,
shall
I
come
?
The
hour
?
Ay
,
come
.
—
O
Jove
!
—
Do
,
come
.
—
I
shall
be
plagued
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Farewell
,
till
then
.
Good
night
.
I
prithee
,
come
.
—
He
exits
.
Troilus
,
farewell
.
One
eye
yet
looks
on
thee
,
But
with
my
heart
the
other
eye
doth
see
.
Ah
,
poor
our
sex
!
This
fault
in
us
I
find
:
The
error
of
our
eye
directs
our
mind
.
What
error
leads
must
err
.
O
,
then
conclude
:
Minds
swayed
by
eyes
are
full
of
turpitude
.
She
exits
.
,
aside
A
proof
of
strength
she
could
not
publish
more
,
Unless
she
said
My
mind
is
now
turned
whore
.
All’s
done
,
my
lord
.
It
is
.
Why
stay
we
then
?
To
make
a
recordation
to
my
soul
Of
every
syllable
that
here
was
spoke
.
But
if
I
tell
how
these
two
did
co-act
,
Shall
I
not
lie
in
publishing
a
truth
?
Sith
yet
there
is
a
credence
in
my
heart
,
An
esperance
so
obstinately
strong
.
That
doth
invert
th’
attest
of
eyes
and
ears
,
As
if
those
organs
had
deceptious
functions
,
Created
only
to
calumniate
.
Was
Cressid
here
?
I
cannot
conjure
,
Trojan
.
She
was
not
,
sure
.
Most
sure
she
was
.
Why
,
my
negation
hath
no
taste
of
madness
.
Nor
mine
,
my
lord
.
Cressid
was
here
but
now
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Let
it
not
be
believed
for
womanhood
!
Think
,
we
had
mothers
.
Do
not
give
advantage
To
stubborn
critics
,
apt
,
without
a
theme
For
depravation
,
to
square
the
general
sex
By
Cressid’s
rule
.
Rather
,
think
this
not
Cressid
.
What
hath
she
done
,
prince
,
that
can
soil
our
mothers
?
Nothing
at
all
,
unless
that
this
were
she
.
,
aside
Will
he
swagger
himself
out
on
’s
own
eyes
?
This
she
?
No
,
this
is
Diomed’s
Cressida
.
If
beauty
have
a
soul
,
this
is
not
she
;
If
souls
guide
vows
,
if
vows
be
sanctimonies
,
If
sanctimony
be
the
gods’
delight
,
If
there
be
rule
in
unity
itself
,
This
is
not
she
.
O
madness
of
discourse
,
That
cause
sets
up
with
and
against
itself
!
Bifold
authority
,
where
reason
can
revolt
Without
perdition
,
and
loss
assume
all
reason
Without
revolt
.
This
is
and
is
not
Cressid
.
Within
my
soul
there
doth
conduce
a
fight
Of
this
strange
nature
,
that
a
thing
inseparate
Divides
more
wider
than
the
sky
and
Earth
earth
,
And
yet
the
spacious
breadth
of
this
division
Admits
no
orifex
for
a
point
as
subtle
As
Ariachne’s
broken
woof
to
enter
.
Instance
,
O
instance
,
strong
as
Pluto’s
gates
,
Cressid
is
mine
,
tied
with
the
bonds
of
heaven
;
Instance
,
O
instance
,
strong
as
heaven
itself
,
The
bonds
of
heaven
are
slipped
,
dissolved
,
and
loosed
,
And
with
another
knot
,
five-finger-tied
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
The
fractions
of
her
faith
,
orts
of
her
love
,
The
fragments
,
scraps
,
the
bits
and
greasy
relics
Of
her
o’er-eaten
faith
are
given
to
Diomed
.
May
worthy
Troilus
be
half
attached
With
that
which
here
his
passion
doth
express
?
Ay
,
Greek
,
and
that
shall
be
divulgèd
well
In
characters
as
red
as
Mars
his
heart
Inflamed
with
Venus
.
Never
did
young
man
fancy
With
so
eternal
and
so
fixed
a
soul
.
Hark
,
Greek
:
as
much
as
I
do
Cressid
love
,
So
much
by
weight
hate
I
her
Diomed
.
That
sleeve
is
mine
that
he’ll
bear
on
his
helm
.
Were
it
a
casque
composed
by
Vulcan’s
skill
,
My
sword
should
bite
it
.
Not
the
dreadful
spout
Which
shipmen
do
the
hurricano
call
,
Constringed
in
mass
by
the
almighty
sun
,
Shall
dizzy
with
more
clamor
Neptune’s
ear
In
his
descent
than
shall
my
prompted
sword
Falling
on
Diomed
.
,
aside
He’ll
tickle
it
for
his
concupy
.
O
Cressid
!
O
false
Cressid
!
False
,
false
,
false
!
Let
all
untruths
stand
by
thy
stainèd
name
,
And
they’ll
seem
glorious
.
O
,
contain
yourself
.
Your
passion
draws
ears
hither
.
Enter
Aeneas
.
,
to
Troilus
I
have
been
seeking
you
this
hour
,
my
lord
.
Hector
,
by
this
,
is
arming
him
in
Troy
.
Ajax
,
your
guard
,
stays
to
conduct
you
home
.
Have
with
you
,
prince
.
—
My
courteous
lord
,
adieu
.
—
ACT 5. SC. 3
Farewell
,
revolted
fair
!
—
And
,
Diomed
,
Stand
fast
,
and
wear
a
castle
on
thy
head
!
I’ll
bring
you
to
the
gates
.
Accept
distracted
thanks
.
Troilus
,
Aeneas
,
and
Ulysses
exit
.
Would
I
could
meet
that
rogue
Diomed
!
I
would
croak
like
a
raven
;
I
would
bode
,
I
would
bode
.
Patroclus
will
give
me
anything
for
the
intelligence
of
this
whore
.
The
parrot
will
not
do
more
for
an
almond
than
he
for
a
commodious
drab
.
Lechery
,
lechery
,
still
wars
and
lechery
!
Nothing
else
holds
fashion
.
A
burning
devil
take
them
!
He
exits
.
Scene
3
Enter
Hector
,
armed
,
and
Andromache
.
When
was
my
lord
so
much
ungently
tempered
To
stop
his
ears
against
admonishment
?
Unarm
,
unarm
,
and
do
not
fight
today
.
You
train
me
to
offend
you
.
Get
you
in
.
By
all
the
everlasting
gods
,
I’ll
go
!
My
dreams
will
sure
prove
ominous
to
the
day
.
No
more
,
I
say
.
Enter
Cassandra
.
Where
is
my
brother
Hector
?
Here
,
sister
,
armed
and
bloody
in
intent
.
Consort
with
me
in
loud
and
dear
petition
;
Pursue
we
him
on
knees
.
For
I
have
dreamt
ACT 5. SC. 3
Of
bloody
turbulence
,
and
this
whole
night
Hath
nothing
been
but
shapes
and
forms
of
slaughter
.
O
,
’tis
true
!
,
calling
out
Ho
!
Bid
my
trumpet
sound
!
No
notes
of
sally
,
for
the
heavens
,
sweet
brother
!
Begone
,
I
say
.
The
gods
have
heard
me
swear
.
The
gods
are
deaf
to
hot
and
peevish
vows
.
They
are
polluted
off’rings
more
abhorred
Than
spotted
livers
in
the
sacrifice
.
,
to
Hector
O
,
be
persuaded
!
Do
not
count
it
holy
To
hurt
by
being
just
.
It
is
as
lawful
,
For
we
would
give
much
,
to
use
violent
thefts
And
rob
in
the
behalf
of
charity
.
It
is
the
purpose
that
makes
strong
the
vow
,
But
vows
to
every
purpose
must
not
hold
.
Unarm
,
sweet
Hector
.
Hold
you
still
,
I
say
.
Mine
honor
keeps
the
weather
of
my
fate
.
Life
every
man
holds
dear
,
but
the
dear
man
Holds
honor
far
more
precious-dear
than
life
.
Enter
Troilus
,
armed
.
How
now
,
young
man
?
Meanest
thou
to
fight
today
?
Cassandra
,
call
my
father
to
persuade
.
Cassandra
exits
.
No
,
faith
,
young
Troilus
,
doff
thy
harness
,
youth
.
I
am
today
i’
th’
vein
of
chivalry
.
Let
grow
thy
sinews
till
their
knots
be
strong
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
And
tempt
not
yet
the
brushes
of
the
war
.
Unarm
thee
,
go
,
and
doubt
thou
not
,
brave
boy
,
I’ll
stand
today
for
thee
and
me
and
Troy
.
Brother
,
you
have
a
vice
of
mercy
in
you
Which
better
fits
a
lion
than
a
man
.
What
vice
is
that
?
Good
Troilus
,
chide
me
for
it
.
When
many
times
the
captive
Grecian
falls
,
Even
in
the
fan
and
wind
of
your
fair
sword
,
You
bid
them
rise
and
live
.
O
,
’tis
fair
play
.
Fool’s
play
,
by
heaven
.
Hector
.
How
now
?
How
now
?
For
th’
love
of
all
the
gods
,
Let’s
leave
the
hermit
Pity
with
our
mother
,
And
when
we
have
our
armors
buckled
on
,
The
venomed
Vengeance
ride
upon
our
swords
,
Spur
them
to
ruthful
work
,
rein
them
from
ruth
.
Fie
,
savage
,
fie
!
Hector
,
then
’tis
wars
.
Troilus
,
I
would
not
have
you
fight
today
.
Who
should
withhold
me
?
Not
fate
,
obedience
,
nor
the
hand
of
Mars
,
Beck’ning
with
fiery
truncheon
my
retire
;
Not
Priamus
and
Hecuba
on
knees
,
Their
eyes
o’er-gallèd
with
recourse
of
tears
;
Nor
you
,
my
brother
,
with
your
true
sword
drawn
Opposed
to
hinder
me
,
should
stop
my
way
,
But
by
my
ruin
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Enter
Priam
and
Cassandra
.
,
indicating
Hector
Lay
hold
upon
him
,
Priam
;
hold
him
fast
.
He
is
thy
crutch
.
Now
if
thou
loose
thy
stay
,
Thou
on
him
leaning
,
and
all
Troy
on
thee
,
Fall
all
together
.
Come
,
Hector
,
come
.
Go
back
.
Thy
wife
hath
dreamt
,
thy
mother
hath
had
visions
,
Cassandra
doth
foresee
,
and
I
myself
Am
like
a
prophet
suddenly
enrapt
To
tell
thee
that
this
day
is
ominous
.
Therefore
,
come
back
.
Aeneas
is
afield
,
And
I
do
stand
engaged
to
many
Greeks
,
Even
in
the
faith
of
valor
,
to
appear
This
morning
to
them
.
Ay
,
but
thou
shalt
not
go
.
I
must
not
break
my
faith
.
You
know
me
dutiful
;
therefore
,
dear
sir
,
Let
me
not
shame
respect
,
but
give
me
leave
To
take
that
course
by
your
consent
and
voice
Which
you
do
here
forbid
me
,
royal
Priam
.
O
Priam
,
yield
not
to
him
!
Do
not
,
dear
father
.
Andromache
,
I
am
offended
with
you
.
Upon
the
love
you
bear
me
,
get
you
in
.
Andromache
exits
.
This
foolish
,
dreaming
,
superstitious
girl
Makes
all
these
bodements
.
O
farewell
,
dear
Hector
.
Look
how
thou
diest
!
Look
how
thy
eye
turns
pale
!
Look
how
thy
wounds
do
bleed
at
many
vents
!
ACT 5. SC. 3
Hark
,
how
Troy
roars
,
how
Hecuba
cries
out
,
How
poor
Andromache
shrills
her
dolor
forth
!
Behold
,
distraction
,
frenzy
,
and
amazement
,
Like
witless
antics
,
one
another
meet
,
And
all
cry
Hector
!
Hector’s
dead
!
O
,
Hector
!
Away
,
away
!
Farewell
.
—
Yet
soft
!
Hector
,
I
take
my
leave
.
Thou
dost
thyself
and
all
our
Troy
deceive
.
She
exits
.
You
are
amazed
,
my
liege
,
at
her
exclaim
.
Go
in
and
cheer
the
town
.
We’ll
forth
and
fight
,
Do
deeds
worth
praise
,
and
tell
you
them
at
night
.
Farewell
.
The
gods
with
safety
stand
about
thee
!
Hector
and
Priam
exit
at
separate
doors
.
Alarum
.
They
are
at
it
,
hark
!
Proud
Diomed
,
believe
,
I
come
to
lose
my
arm
or
win
my
sleeve
.
Enter
Pandarus
,
with
a
paper
.
Do
you
hear
,
my
lord
?
Do
you
hear
?
What
now
?
Here’s
a
letter
come
from
yond
poor
girl
.
Let
me
read
.
He
reads
.
A
whoreson
phthisic
,
a
whoreson
rascally
phthisic
so
troubles
me
,
and
the
foolish
fortune
of
this
girl
,
and
what
one
thing
,
what
another
,
that
I
shall
leave
you
one
o’
these
days
.
And
I
have
a
rheum
in
mine
eyes
too
,
and
such
an
ache
in
my
bones
that
,
unless
a
man
were
cursed
,
I
cannot
tell
what
to
think
on
’t
.
—
What
says
she
there
?
Words
,
words
,
mere
words
,
no
matter
from
the
heart
.
Th’
effect
doth
operate
another
way
.
ACT 5. SC. 4
Go
,
wind
,
to
wind
!
There
turn
and
change
together
.
He
tears
up
the
paper
and
throws
the
pieces
in
the
air
.
My
love
with
words
and
errors
still
she
feeds
,
But
edifies
another
with
her
deeds
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Alarum
.
Excursions
.
Enter
Thersites
.
Now
they
are
clapper-clawing
one
another
.
I’ll
go
look
on
.
That
dissembling
abominable
varlet
,
Diomed
,
has
got
that
same
scurvy
doting
foolish
young
knave’s
sleeve
of
Troy
there
in
his
helm
.
I
would
fain
see
them
meet
,
that
that
same
young
Trojan
ass
that
loves
the
whore
there
might
send
that
Greekish
whoremasterly
villain
with
the
sleeve
back
to
the
dissembling
luxurious
drab
,
of
a
sleeveless
errand
.
O’
th’
t’other
side
,
the
policy
of
those
crafty
swearing
rascals
—
that
stale
old
mouse-eaten
dry
cheese
,
Nestor
,
and
that
same
dog-fox
,
Ulysses
—
is
proved
not
worth
a
blackberry
.
They
set
me
up
,
in
policy
,
that
mongrel
cur
,
Ajax
,
against
that
dog
of
as
bad
a
kind
,
Achilles
.
And
now
is
the
cur
Ajax
prouder
than
the
cur
Achilles
,
and
will
not
arm
today
,
whereupon
the
Grecians
begin
to
proclaim
barbarism
,
and
policy
grows
into
an
ill
opinion
.
Enter
Diomedes
,
and
Troilus
pursuing
him
.
Soft
!
Here
comes
sleeve
and
t’
other
.
Thersites
moves
aside
.
,
to
Diomedes
Fly
not
,
for
shouldst
thou
take
the
river
Styx
I
would
swim
after
.
Thou
dost
miscall
retire
.
ACT 5. SC. 5
I
do
not
fly
,
but
advantageous
care
Withdrew
me
from
the
odds
of
multitude
.
Have
at
thee
!
They
fight
.
Hold
thy
whore
,
Grecian
!
Now
for
thy
whore
,
Trojan
!
Now
the
sleeve
,
now
the
sleeve
!
Diomedes
and
Troilus
exit
fighting
.
Enter
Hector
.
What
art
thou
,
Greek
?
Art
thou
for
Hector’s
match
?
Art
thou
of
blood
and
honor
?
No
,
no
,
I
am
a
rascal
,
a
scurvy
railing
knave
,
a
very
filthy
rogue
.
I
do
believe
thee
.
Live
.
He
exits
.
God-a-mercy
,
that
thou
wilt
believe
me
!
But
a
plague
break
thy
neck
for
frighting
me
!
What’s
become
of
the
wenching
rogues
?
I
think
they
have
swallowed
one
another
.
I
would
laugh
at
that
miracle
—
yet
,
in
a
sort
,
lechery
eats
itself
.
I’ll
seek
them
.
He
exits
.
Scene
5
Enter
Diomedes
and
Servingman
.
Go
,
go
,
my
servant
,
take
thou
Troilus’
horse
;
Present
the
fair
steed
to
my
Lady
Cressid
.
Fellow
,
commend
my
service
to
her
beauty
.
Tell
her
I
have
chastised
the
amorous
Trojan
And
am
her
knight
by
proof
.
I
go
,
my
lord
.
He
exits
.
Enter
Agamemnon
.
ACT 5. SC. 5
Renew
,
renew
!
The
fierce
Polydamas
Hath
beat
down
Menon
;
bastard
Margareton
Hath
Doreus
prisoner
,
And
stands
colossus-wise
,
waving
his
beam
Upon
the
pashèd
corses
of
the
kings
Epistrophus
and
Cedius
.
Polyxenes
is
slain
,
Amphimachus
and
Thoas
deadly
hurt
,
Patroclus
ta’en
or
slain
,
and
Palamedes
Sore
hurt
and
bruised
.
The
dreadful
Sagittary
Appals
our
numbers
.
Haste
we
,
Diomed
,
To
reinforcement
,
or
we
perish
all
.
Enter
Nestor
,
with
Soldiers
bearing
the
body
of
Patroclus
.
Go
,
bear
Patroclus’
body
to
Achilles
,
And
bid
the
snail-paced
Ajax
arm
for
shame
.
Soldiers
exit
with
Patroclus’s
body
.
There
is
a
thousand
Hectors
in
the
field
.
Now
here
he
fights
on
Galathe
his
horse
,
And
here
lacks
work
;
anon
he’s
there
afoot
And
there
they
fly
or
die
,
like
scalèd
schools
Before
the
belching
whale
;
then
is
he
yonder
,
And
there
the
strawy
Greeks
,
ripe
for
his
edge
,
Fall
down
before
him
like
a
mower’s
swath
.
Here
,
there
,
and
everywhere
he
leaves
and
takes
,
Dexterity
so
obeying
appetite
That
what
he
will
he
does
,
and
does
so
much
That
proof
is
called
impossibility
.
Enter
Ulysses
.
O
,
courage
,
courage
,
princes
!
Great
Achilles
Is
arming
,
weeping
,
cursing
,
vowing
vengeance
.
Patroclus’
wounds
have
roused
his
drowsy
blood
,
Together
with
his
mangled
Myrmidons
,
ACT 5. SC. 6
That
noseless
,
handless
,
hacked
and
chipped
,
come
to
him
,
Crying
on
Hector
.
Ajax
hath
lost
a
friend
And
foams
at
mouth
,
and
he
is
armed
and
at
it
,
Roaring
for
Troilus
,
who
hath
done
today
Mad
and
fantastic
execution
,
Engaging
and
redeeming
of
himself
With
such
a
careless
force
and
forceless
care
As
if
that
luck
,
in
very
spite
of
cunning
,
Bade
him
win
all
.
Enter
Ajax
.
Troilus
,
thou
coward
Troilus
!
He
exits
.
Ay
,
there
,
there
!
He
exits
.
So
,
so
,
we
draw
together
.
Enter
Achilles
.
Where
is
this
Hector
?
—
Come
,
come
,
thou
boy-queller
,
show
thy
face
!
Know
what
it
is
to
meet
Achilles
angry
.
Hector
!
Where’s
Hector
?
I
will
none
but
Hector
.
He
exits
,
with
the
others
.
Scene
6
Enter
Ajax
.
Troilus
,
thou
coward
Troilus
,
show
thy
head
!
Enter
Diomedes
.
Troilus
,
I
say
!
Where’s
Troilus
?
What
wouldst
thou
?
I
would
correct
him
.
Were
I
the
General
,
thou
shouldst
have
my
office
Ere
that
correction
.
—
Troilus
,
I
say
!
What
,
Troilus
!
ACT 5. SC. 6
Enter
Troilus
.
O
traitor
Diomed
!
Turn
thy
false
face
,
thou
traitor
,
And
pay
the
life
thou
owest
me
for
my
horse
!
Ha
!
Art
thou
there
?
I’ll
fight
with
him
alone
.
Stand
,
Diomed
.
He
is
my
prize
.
I
will
not
look
upon
.
Come
,
both
you
cogging
Greeks
.
Have
at
you
both
!
Enter
Hector
.
Troilus
exits
,
fighting
Diomedes
and
Ajax
.
Yea
,
Troilus
?
O
,
well
fought
,
my
youngest
brother
!
Enter
Achilles
.
Now
do
I
see
thee
.
Ha
!
Have
at
thee
,
Hector
!
They
fight
.
Pause
if
thou
wilt
.
I
do
disdain
thy
courtesy
,
proud
Trojan
.
Be
happy
that
my
arms
are
out
of
use
.
My
rest
and
negligence
befriends
thee
now
,
But
thou
anon
shalt
hear
of
me
again
;
Till
when
,
go
seek
thy
fortune
.
He
exits
.
Fare
thee
well
.
I
would
have
been
much
more
a
fresher
man
Had
I
expected
thee
.
Enter
Troilus
.
How
now
,
my
brother
?
ACT 5. SC. 7
Ajax
hath
ta’en
Aeneas
.
Shall
it
be
?
No
,
by
the
flame
of
yonder
glorious
heaven
,
He
shall
not
carry
him
.
I’ll
be
ta’en
too
Or
bring
him
off
.
Fate
,
hear
me
what
I
say
!
I
reck
not
though
I
end
my
life
today
.
He
exits
.
Enter
one
in
Greek
armor
.
Stand
,
stand
,
thou
Greek
!
Thou
art
a
goodly
mark
.
No
?
Wilt
thou
not
?
I
like
thy
armor
well
.
I’ll
frush
it
and
unlock
the
rivets
all
,
But
I’ll
be
master
of
it
.
The
Greek
exits
.
Wilt
thou
not
,
beast
,
abide
?
Why
then
,
fly
on
.
I’ll
hunt
thee
for
thy
hide
.
He
exits
.
Scene
7
Enter
Achilles
,
with
Myrmidons
.
Come
here
about
me
,
you
my
Myrmidons
.
Mark
what
I
say
.
Attend
me
where
I
wheel
.
Strike
not
a
stroke
,
but
keep
yourselves
in
breath
,
And
,
when
I
have
the
bloody
Hector
found
,
Empale
him
with
your
weapons
round
about
.
In
fellest
manner
execute
your
arms
.
Follow
me
,
sirs
,
and
my
proceedings
eye
.
It
is
decreed
Hector
the
great
must
die
.
They
exit
.
ACT 5. SC. 9
Scene
8
Enter
Thersites
;
then
Menelaus
fighting
Paris
.
The
cuckold
and
the
cuckold-maker
are
at
it
.
Now
,
bull
!
Now
,
dog
!
Loo
,
Paris
,
loo
!
Now
,
my
double-horned
Spartan
!
Loo
,
Paris
,
loo
!
The
bull
has
the
game
.
Ware
horns
,
ho
!
Paris
and
Menelaus
exit
,
fighting
.
Enter
Bastard
.
Turn
,
slave
,
and
fight
.
What
art
thou
?
A
bastard
son
of
Priam’s
.
I
am
a
bastard
too
.
I
love
bastards
.
I
am
bastard
begot
,
bastard
instructed
,
bastard
in
mind
,
bastard
in
valor
,
in
everything
illegitimate
.
One
bear
will
not
bite
another
,
and
wherefore
should
one
bastard
?
Take
heed
:
the
quarrel’s
most
ominous
to
us
.
If
the
son
of
a
whore
fight
for
a
whore
,
he
tempts
judgment
.
Farewell
,
bastard
.
He
exits
.
The
devil
take
thee
,
coward
!
He
exits
.
Scene
9
Enter
Hector
,
with
the
body
of
the
Greek
in
armor
.
Most
putrefied
core
,
so
fair
without
,
Thy
goodly
armor
thus
hath
cost
thy
life
.
Now
is
my
day’s
work
done
.
I’ll
take
my
breath
.
Rest
,
sword
;
thou
hast
thy
fill
of
blood
and
death
.
He
begins
to
disarm
.
Enter
Achilles
and
his
Myrmidons
.
ACT 5. SC. 10
Look
,
Hector
,
how
the
sun
begins
to
set
,
How
ugly
night
comes
breathing
at
his
heels
.
Even
with
the
vail
and
dark’ning
of
the
sun
To
close
the
day
up
,
Hector’s
life
is
done
.
I
am
unarmed
.
Forgo
this
vantage
,
Greek
.
Strike
,
fellows
,
strike
!
This
is
the
man
I
seek
.
The
Myrmidons
kill
Hector
.
So
,
Ilium
,
fall
thou
next
!
Come
,
Troy
,
sink
down
!
Here
lies
thy
heart
,
thy
sinews
,
and
thy
bone
.
On
,
Myrmidons
,
and
cry
you
all
amain
Achilles
hath
the
mighty
Hector
slain
.
Retreat
sounded
from
both
armies
.
Hark
!
A
retire
upon
our
Grecian
part
.
The
Trojan
trumpets
sound
the
like
,
my
lord
.
The
dragon
wing
of
night
o’erspreads
the
Earth
earth
And
,
stickler-like
,
the
armies
separates
.
My
half-supped
sword
,
that
frankly
would
have
fed
,
Pleased
with
this
dainty
bait
,
thus
goes
to
bed
.
He
sheathes
his
sword
.
Come
,
tie
his
body
to
my
horse’s
tail
;
Along
the
field
I
will
the
Trojan
trail
.
They
exit
with
the
bodies
.
Scene
10
Sound
retreat
.
Enter
Agamemnon
,
Ajax
,
Menelaus
,
Nestor
,
Diomedes
,
and
the
rest
,
marching
to
the
beat
of
drums
.
Shout
within
.
Hark
,
hark
,
what
shout
is
this
?
Peace
,
drums
!
The
drums
cease
.
ACT 5. SC. 11
,
within
Achilles
!
Achilles
!
Hector’s
slain
!
Achilles
!
The
bruit
is
Hector’s
slain
,
and
by
Achilles
.
If
it
be
so
,
yet
bragless
let
it
be
.
Great
Hector
was
as
good
a
man
as
he
.
March
patiently
along
.
Let
one
be
sent
To
pray
Achilles
see
us
at
our
tent
.
If
in
his
death
the
gods
have
us
befriended
,
Great
Troy
is
ours
,
and
our
sharp
wars
are
ended
.
They
exit
,
marching
.
Scene
11
Enter
Aeneas
,
Paris
,
Antenor
,
Deiphobus
,
and
Trojan
soldiers
.
Stand
,
ho
!
Yet
are
we
masters
of
the
field
.
Never
go
home
;
here
starve
we
out
the
night
.
Enter
Troilus
.
Hector
is
slain
.
Hector
!
The
gods
forbid
!
He’s
dead
,
and
at
the
murderer’s
horse’s
tail
,
In
beastly
sort
,
dragged
through
the
shameful
field
.
Frown
on
,
you
heavens
;
effect
your
rage
with
speed
.
Sit
,
gods
,
upon
your
thrones
,
and
smite
at
Troy
!
I
say
at
once
:
let
your
brief
plagues
be
mercy
,
And
linger
not
our
sure
destructions
on
!
My
lord
,
you
do
discomfort
all
the
host
.
ACT 5. SC. 11
You
understand
me
not
that
tell
me
so
.
I
do
not
speak
of
flight
,
of
fear
,
of
death
,
But
dare
all
imminence
that
gods
and
men
Address
their
dangers
in
.
Hector
is
gone
.
Who
shall
tell
Priam
so
,
or
Hecuba
?
Let
him
that
will
a
screech-owl
aye
be
called
Go
into
Troy
and
say
their
Hector’s
dead
.
There
is
a
word
will
Priam
turn
to
stone
,
Make
wells
and
Niobes
of
the
maids
and
wives
,
Cold
statues
of
the
youth
and
,
in
a
word
,
Scare
Troy
out
of
itself
.
But
march
away
.
Hector
is
dead
.
There
is
no
more
to
say
.
Stay
yet
.
You
vile
abominable
tents
,
Thus
proudly
pitched
upon
our
Phrygian
plains
,
Let
Titan
rise
as
early
as
he
dare
,
I’ll
through
and
through
you
!
And
,
thou
great-sized
coward
,
No
space
of
earth
shall
sunder
our
two
hates
.
I’ll
haunt
thee
like
a
wicked
conscience
still
,
That
moldeth
goblins
swift
as
frenzy’s
thoughts
.
Strike
a
free
march
to
Troy
!
With
comfort
go
.
Hope
of
revenge
shall
hide
our
inward
woe
.
Enter
Pandarus
.
But
hear
you
,
hear
you
!
Hence
,
broker
,
lackey
!
Ignomy
and
shame
Pursue
thy
life
,
and
live
aye
with
thy
name
!
All
but
Pandarus
exit
.
A
goodly
medicine
for
my
aching
bones
!
O
world
,
world
,
world
!
Thus
is
the
poor
agent
despised
.
O
traitors
and
bawds
,
how
earnestly
are
you
set
a-work
,
and
how
ill
requited
!
Why
should
our
endeavor
be
so
loved
and
the
performance
so
loathed
?
What
verse
for
it
?
What
instance
for
it
?
ACT 5. SC. 11
Let
me
see
:
Full
merrily
the
humble-bee
doth
sing
,
Till
he
hath
lost
his
honey
and
his
sting
;
And
being
once
subdued
in
armèd
tail
,
Sweet
honey
and
sweet
notes
together
fail
.
Good
traders
in
the
flesh
,
set
this
in
your
painted
cloths
:
As
many
as
be
here
of
panders’
hall
,
Your
eyes
,
half
out
,
weep
out
at
Pandar’s
fall
;
Or
if
you
cannot
weep
,
yet
give
some
groans
,
Though
not
for
me
,
yet
for
your
aching
bones
.
Brethren
and
sisters
of
the
hold-door
trade
,
Some
two
months
hence
my
will
shall
here
be
made
.
It
should
be
now
,
but
that
my
fear
is
this
:
Some
gallèd
goose
of
Winchester
would
hiss
.
Till
then
I’ll
sweat
and
seek
about
for
eases
,
And
at
that
time
bequeath
you
my
diseases
.
He
exits
.
all or part of a full metrical line
all or part of a prose speech
a short line which cannot be joined with other lines to form a full metrical line, or which may not be definitively identified asverse or prose
editorial emendation
text from the Folio not found in the Quarto
text from the Quarto not found in the Folio