Troilus and Cressida

ACT I

PROLOGUE

LUCIUS

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 the Athenian bay

Put forth toward Phrygia, and their vow is made

To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures

The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,

With wanton Paris sleeps, and that's the quarrel.

To Tenedos they come,

And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge

Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan plains

The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch

Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,

Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,

And Antenorides, with massy staples

And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,

Sperr 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 arm'd, 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.

SCENE I. Troy. Before Priam's palace.

Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS

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.

PANDARUS

Will this gear ne'er be mended?

TROILUS

The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength,

Fierce to their skill and to their fierceness valiant,

But I am weaker than a woman's tear,

Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,

Less valiant than the virgin in the night

And skilless as unpractised infancy.

PANDARUS

Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part,

I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will

have a cake out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding.

TROILUS

Have I not tarried?

PANDARUS

Ay, the grinding, but you must tarry

the bolting.

TROILUS

Have I not tarried?

PANDARUS

Ay, the bolting, but you must tarry the leavening.

TROILUS

Still have I tarried.

PANDARUS

Ay, to the leavening, but here's yet in the word

'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the

heating of the oven and the baking, nay, you must

stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips.

TROILUS

Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,

Doth lesser blench at sufferance 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?

PANDARUS

Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw

her look, or any woman else.

TROILUS

I was about to tell thee:--when my heart,

As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,

Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,

I have, as when the sun doth light a storm,

Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile:

But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,

Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.

PANDARUS

An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's--

well, go to--there were no more comparison between

the women: but, 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--

TROILUS

O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,--

When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd,

Reply not in how many fathoms deep

They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad

In Cressid's love: thou answer'st 'she is fair,'

Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart

Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice,

Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand,

In whose comparison all whites are ink,

Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure

The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense

Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'st me,

As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her,

But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,

Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me

The knife that made it.

PANDARUS

I speak no more than truth.

TROILUS

Thou dost not speak so much.

PANDARUS

Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is:

if she be fair, 'tis the better for her, an she be

not, she has the mends in her own hands.

TROILUS

Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus!

PANDARUS

I have had my labour for my travail, ill-thought on of

her and ill-thought on of you, gone between and

between, but small thanks for my labour.

TROILUS

What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?

PANDARUS

Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair

as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as

fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care

I? I care not an she were a black-a-moor, 'tis all one to me.

TROILUS

Say I she is not fair?

PANDARUS

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' the matter.

TROILUS

Pandarus,--

PANDARUS

Not I.

TROILUS

Sweet Pandarus,--

PANDARUS

Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I

found it, and there an end.

Exit PANDARUS. An alarum

TROILUS

Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds!

Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,

When with your blood you daily paint her thus.

I cannot fight upon this argument,

It is too 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 woo'd to woo.

As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.

Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,

What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?

Her bed is India, there she lies, a pearl:

Between our Ilium and where she resides,

Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood,

Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar

Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark.

Alarum. Enter AENEAS

AENEAS

How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore not afield?

TROILUS

Because not there: this woman's answer sorts,

For womanish it is to be from thence.

What news, AEneas, from the field to-day?

AENEAS

That Paris is returned home and hurt.

TROILUS

By whom, AEneas?

AENEAS

Troilus, by Menelaus.

TROILUS

Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorn,

Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn.

Alarum

AENEAS

Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day!

TROILUS

Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.'

But to the sport abroad: are you bound thither?

AENEAS

In all swift haste.

TROILUS

Come, go we then together.

Exeunt

SCENE II. The Same. A street.

Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER

CRESSIDA

Who were those went by?

ALEXANDER

Queen Hecuba and Helen.

CRESSIDA

And whither go they?

ALEXANDER

Up to the eastern tower,

Whose height commands as subject all the vale,

To see the battle. Hector, whose patience

Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was moved:

He chid Andromache and struck his armourer,

And, like as there were husbandry in war,

Before the sun rose he was harness'd light,

And to the field goes he, where every flower

Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw

In Hector's wrath.

CRESSIDA

What was his cause of anger?

ALEXANDER

The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks

A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector,

They call him Ajax.

CRESSIDA

Good, and what of him?

ALEXANDER

They say he is a very man per se,

And stands alone.

CRESSIDA

So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs.

ALEXANDER

This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their

particular additions, he is as valiant as the lion,

churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man

into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his

valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with

discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he

hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he

carries some stain of it: he is melancholy without

cause, and merry against the hair: he hath the

joints of every thing, but everything so out of joint

that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use,

or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.

CRESSIDA

But how should this man, that makes

me smile, make Hector angry?

ALEXANDER

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.

CRESSIDA

Who comes here?

ALEXANDER

Madam, your uncle Pandarus.

Enter PANDARUS

CRESSIDA

Hector's a gallant man.

ALEXANDER

As may be in the world, lady.

PANDARUS

What's that? what's that?

CRESSIDA

Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

PANDARUS

Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of?

Good morrow, Alexander. How do you, cousin? When

were you at Ilium?

CRESSIDA

This morning, uncle.

PANDARUS

What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector

armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not

up, was she?

CRESSIDA

Hector was gone, but Helen was not up.

PANDARUS

Even so: Hector was stirring early.

CRESSIDA

That were we talking of, and of his anger.

PANDARUS

Was he angry?

CRESSIDA

So he says here.

PANDARUS

True, he was so: I know the cause too: he'll lay

about him to-day, 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.

CRESSIDA

What, is he angry too?

PANDARUS

Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.

CRESSIDA

O Jupiter! there's no comparison.

PANDARUS

What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a

man if you see him?

CRESSIDA

Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him.

PANDARUS

Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.

CRESSIDA

Then you say as I say, for, I am sure, he is not Hector.

PANDARUS

No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees.

CRESSIDA

'Tis just to each of them, he is himself.

PANDARUS

Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were.

CRESSIDA

So he is.

PANDARUS

Condition, I had gone barefoot to India.

CRESSIDA

He is not Hector.

PANDARUS

Himself! no, he's not himself: would a' were

himself! Well, the gods are above, time must friend

or end: well, Troilus, well: I would my heart were

in her body. No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.

CRESSIDA

Excuse me.

PANDARUS

He is elder.

CRESSIDA

Pardon me, pardon me.

PANDARUS

Th' other's not come to't, you shall tell me another

tale, when th' other's come to't. Hector shall not

have his wit this year.

CRESSIDA

He shall not need it, if he have his own.

PANDARUS

Nor his qualities.

CRESSIDA

No matter.

PANDARUS

Nor his beauty.

CRESSIDA

'Twould not become him, his own's better.

PANDARUS

You have no judgment, niece: Helen

herself swore th' other day, that Troilus, for

a brown favour--for so 'tis, I must confess,--

not brown neither,--

CRESSIDA

No, but brown.

PANDARUS

'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.

CRESSIDA

To say the truth, true and not true.

PANDARUS

She praised his complexion above Paris.

CRESSIDA

Why, Paris hath colour enough.

PANDARUS

So he has.

CRESSIDA

Then Troilus should have too much: if she praised

him above, his complexion is higher than his, he

having colour 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.

PANDARUS

I swear to you. I think Helen loves him better than Paris.

CRESSIDA

Then she's a merry Greek indeed.

PANDARUS

Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other

day into the compassed window,--and, you know, he

has not past three or four hairs on his chin,--

CRESSIDA

Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his

particulars therein to a total.

PANDARUS

Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within

three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector.

CRESSIDA

Is he so young a man and so old a lifter?

PANDARUS

But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came

and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin--

CRESSIDA

Juno have mercy! how came it cloven?

PANDARUS

Why, you know 'tis dimpled: I think his smiling

becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.

CRESSIDA

O, he smiles valiantly.

PANDARUS

Does he not?

CRESSIDA

O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.

PANDARUS

Why, go to, then: but to prove to you that Helen

loves Troilus,--

CRESSIDA

Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll

prove it so.

PANDARUS

Troilus! why, he esteems her no more than I esteem

an addle egg.

CRESSIDA

If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle

head, you would eat chickens i' the shell.

PANDARUS

I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled

his chin: indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I

must needs confess,--

CRESSIDA

Without the rack.

PANDARUS

And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.

CRESSIDA

Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.

PANDARUS

But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed

that her eyes ran o'er.

CRESSIDA

With mill-stones.

PANDARUS

And Cassandra laughed.

CRESSIDA

But there was more temperate fire under the pot of

her eyes: did her eyes run o'er too?

PANDARUS

And Hector laughed.

CRESSIDA

At what was all this laughing?

PANDARUS

Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin.

CRESSIDA

An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed

too.

PANDARUS

They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.

CRESSIDA

What was his answer?

PANDARUS

Quoth she, 'Here's but two and fifty hairs on your

chin, and one of them is white.

CRESSIDA

This is her question.

PANDARUS

That's true, make no question of that. 'Two and

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, an Paris so chafed, and all the

rest so laughed, that it passed.

CRESSIDA

So let it now, for it has been while going by.

PANDARUS

Well, cousin. I told you a thing yesterday, think on't.

CRESSIDA

So I do.

PANDARUS

I'll be sworn 'tis true, he will weep you, an 'twere

a man born in April.

CRESSIDA

And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle

against May.

A retreat sounded

PANDARUS

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.

CRESSIDA

At your pleasure.

PANDARUS

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.

CRESSIDA

Speak not so loud.

AENEAS passes

PANDARUS

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.

ANTENOR passes

CRESSIDA

Who's that?

PANDARUS

That's Antenor: he has a shrewd wit, I can tell you,

and he's a man good enough, he's one o' the soundest

judgments in 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.

CRESSIDA

Will he give you the nod?

PANDARUS

You shall see.

CRESSIDA

If he do, the rich shall have more.

HECTOR passes

PANDARUS

That's Hector, that, that, look you, that, there's 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?

CRESSIDA

O, a brave man!

PANDARUS

Is a' 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!

CRESSIDA

Be those with swords?

PANDARUS

Swords! any thing, he cares not, an the devil come

to him, it's all one: by God's lid, it does one's

heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris.

PARIS passes

Look ye yonder, niece, is't not a gallant man too,

is't not? Why, this is brave now. Who said he came

hurt home to-day? he's not hurt: why, this will do

Helen's heart good now, ha! Would I could see

Troilus now! You shall see Troilus anon.

HELENUS passes

CRESSIDA

Who's that?

PANDARUS

That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That's

Helenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus.

CRESSIDA

Can Helenus fight, uncle?

PANDARUS

Helenus? no. Yes, he'll fight indifferent well. I

marvel where Troilus is. Hark! do you not hear the

people cry 'Troilus'? Helenus is a priest.

CRESSIDA

What sneaking fellow comes yonder?

TROILUS passes

PANDARUS

Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus!

there's a man, niece! Hem! Brave Troilus! the

prince of chivalry!

CRESSIDA

Peace, for shame, peace!

PANDARUS

Mark him, note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon

him, niece: look you how his sword is bloodied, and

his helm more hacked than Hector's, and how he looks,

and how he goes! O admirable youth! he ne'er saw

three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way!

Had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess,

he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris?

Paris is dirt to him, and, I warrant, Helen, to

change, would give an eye to boot.

CRESSIDA

Here come more.

Forces pass

PANDARUS

Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran!

porridge after meat! I could live and die i' the

eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look: the eagles

are gone: crows and daws, crows and daws! I had

rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and

all Greece.

CRESSIDA

There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.

PANDARUS

Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very camel.

CRESSIDA

Well, well.

PANDARUS

'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?

CRESSIDA

Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked with no date

in the pie, for then the man's date's out.

PANDARUS

You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you

lie.

CRESSIDA

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.

PANDARUS

Say one of your watches.

CRESSIDA

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.

PANDARUS

You are such another!

Enter Troilus's Boy

Boy

Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.

PANDARUS

Where?

Boy

At your own house, there he unarms him.

PANDARUS

Good boy, tell him I come.

Exit boy

I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.

CRESSIDA

Adieu, uncle.

PANDARUS

I'll be with you, niece, by and by.

CRESSIDA

To bring, uncle?

PANDARUS

Ay, a token from Troilus.

CRESSIDA

By the same token, you are a bawd.

Exit PANDARUS

Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice,

He offers in another's enterprise,

But more in Troilus thousand fold I see

Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be,

Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing:

Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.

That she beloved knows nought that knows not this:

Men prize the thing ungain'd 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, ungain'd, beseech:

Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear,

Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.

Exeunt

SCENE III. The Grecian camp. Before Agamemnon's tent.

Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, MENELAUS, and others

AGAMEMNON

Princes,

What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks?

The ample proposition that hope makes

In all designs begun on earth below

Fails in the promised largeness: cheques and disasters

Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd,

As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,

Infect the sound pine and divert his grain

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 surmised shape. Why then, you princes,

Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works,

And call them shames? which are indeed nought 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.

NESTOR

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-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,

Bounding between the two moist elements,

Like Perseus' horse: where's then the saucy boat

Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now

Co-rivall'd greatness? Either to harbour fled,

Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so

Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide

In storms of fortune, for in her ray and brightness

The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze

Than by the tiger, but when the splitting wind

Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,

And flies fled 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.

ULYSSES

Agamemnon,

Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,

Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit.

In whom the tempers and the minds of all

Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks.

Besides the applause and approbation To which,

To AGAMEMNON

most mighty for thy place and sway,

To NESTOR

And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life

I give to both your speeches, which were such

As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece

Should hold up high in brass, and such again

As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver,

Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree

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.

AGAMEMNON

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.

ULYSSES

Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down,

And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master,

But for these instances.

The specialty of rule hath been neglected:

And, look, how many Grecian tents do 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,

The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask.

The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre

Observe degree, priority and place,

Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,

Office and custom, in all line of order,

And therefore is the glorious planet Sol

In noble eminence enthroned and sphered

Amidst the other, whose medicinable eye

Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,

And posts, like the commandment of a king,

Sans cheque 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!

Commotion in the winds! frights, changes, horrors,

Divert and crack, rend and deracinate

The unity and married calm of states

Quite from their fixure! O, when degree is shaked,

Which is the ladder to all high designs,

Then enterprise is sick! How could communities,

Degrees in schools and brotherhoods in cities,

Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,

The primogenitive and due of birth,

Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,

But by degree, stand in authentic place?

Take but degree away, untune that string,

And, hark, what discord follows! each thing 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 every thing 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 disdain'd

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.

NESTOR

Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd

The fever whereof all our power is sick.

AGAMEMNON

The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses,

What is the remedy?

ULYSSES

The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns

The sinew and the forehand of our host,

Having his ear full of his airy fame,

Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent

Lies mocking our designs: with him Patroclus

Upon a lazy bed the livelong day

Breaks scurril jests,

And with ridiculous and awkward action,

Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,

He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,

Thy topless deputation he puts on,

And, like a strutting player, whose conceit

Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich

To hear the wooden dialogue and sound

'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,--

Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested 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 dropp'd

Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff

The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling,

From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause,

Cries 'Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just.

Now play me Nestor, hem, and stroke thy beard,

As he being drest to some oration.'

That's done, as near as the extremest 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 Valour 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,

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.

NESTOR

And in the imitation of these twain--

Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns

With an imperial voice--many are infect.

Ajax is grown self-will'd, 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.

ULYSSES

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 enemies' weight,--

Why, this hath not a finger's dignity:

They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war,

So that the ram that batters down the wall,

For the great swing 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.

NESTOR

Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse

Makes many Thetis' sons.

A tucket

AGAMEMNON

What trumpet? look, Menelaus.

MENELAUS

From Troy.

Enter AENEAS

AGAMEMNON

What would you 'fore our tent?

AENEAS

Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you?

AGAMEMNON

Even this.

AENEAS

May one, that is a herald and a prince,

Do a fair message to his kingly ears?

AGAMEMNON

With surety stronger than Achilles' arm

'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice

Call Agamemnon head and general.

AENEAS

Fair leave and large security. How may

A stranger to those most imperial looks

Know them from eyes of other mortals?

AGAMEMNON

How!

AENEAS

Ay,

I ask, that I might waken reverence,

And bid the cheek be ready with a 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?

AGAMEMNON

This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy

Are ceremonious courtiers.

AENEAS

Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd,

As bending angels, that's their fame in peace:

But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,

Good arms, strong joints, true swords, and,

Jove's accord,

Nothing so full of heart. But peace, AEneas,

Peace, 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 sure,

transcends.

AGAMEMNON

Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself AEneas?

AENEAS

Ay, Greek, that is my name.

AGAMEMNON

What's your affair I pray you?

AENEAS

Sir, pardon, 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.

AGAMEMNON

He hears naught privately that comes from Troy.

AENEAS

Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him:

I bring a trumpet to awake his ear,

To set his sense on the attentive bent,

And then to speak.

AGAMEMNON

Speak frankly as the wind,

It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour:

That thou shalt know. Trojan, he is awake,

He tells thee so himself.

AENEAS

Trumpet, blow loud,

Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents,

And every Greek of mettle, let him know,

What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud.

Trumpet sounds

We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy

A prince call'd Hector,--Priam is his father,--

Who in this dull and long-continued truce

Is rusty grown: he bade me take a trumpet,

And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords!

If there be one among the fair'st of Greece

That holds his honour higher than his ease,

That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril,

That knows his valour, and knows not his fear,

That loves his mistress more than in 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 compass in his arms,

And will to-morrow 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 honour 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.

AGAMEMNON

This shall be told our lovers, Lord AEneas,

If none of them have soul in such a kind,

We left them all at home: but we are soldiers,

And may that soldier a mere recreant 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.

NESTOR

Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man

When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now,

But if there be not in our Grecian host

One 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 vantbrace put this wither'd brawn,

And meeting him will tell him that my lady

Was fairer than his grandam and as chaste

As may be in the world: his youth in flood,

I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood.

AENEAS

Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth!

ULYSSES

Amen.

AGAMEMNON

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.

Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR

ULYSSES

Nestor!

NESTOR

What says Ulysses?

ULYSSES

I have a young conception in my brain,

Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

NESTOR

What is't?

ULYSSES

This 'tis:

Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded pride

That hath to this maturity blown up

In rank Achilles must or now be cropp'd,

Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil,

To overbulk us all.

NESTOR

Well, and how?

ULYSSES

This challenge that the gallant Hector sends,

However it is spread in general name,

Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

NESTOR

The purpose is perspicuous even as substance,

Whose grossness little characters sum up:

And, in the publication, make no strain,

But that Achilles, were his brain as barren

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.

ULYSSES

And wake him to the answer, think you?

NESTOR

Yes, 'tis most meet: whom may you else oppose,

That can from Hector bring his honour 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 finest palate: and trust to me, Ulysses,

Our imputation shall be oddly poised

In this wild 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 us all, a man distill'd

Out of our virtues, who miscarrying,

What heart receives from hence the conquering part,

To steel a strong opinion to themselves?

Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments,

In no less working than are swords and bows

Directive by the limbs.

ULYSSES

Give pardon to my speech:

Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector.

Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares,

And think, perchance, they'll sell, if not,

The lustre of the better yet to show,

Shall show the better. Do not consent

That ever Hector and Achilles meet,

For both our honour and our shame in this

Are dogg'd with two strange followers.

NESTOR

I see them not with my old eyes: what are they?

ULYSSES

What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,

Were he not proud, we all should share with him:

But he already is too insolent,

A nd we were better parch in Afric sun

Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,

Should he 'scape Hector fair: if he were foil'd,

Why then, we did our main opinion crush

In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery,

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 employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes.

NESTOR

Ulysses,

Now I begin to relish thy advice,

And I will give a taste of it forthwith

To Agamemnon: go we to him straight.

Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone

Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.

Exeunt