Troilus and Cressida

 

By

 

William Shakespeare

 


CONTENTS:

 

ACT I 3

PROLOGUE. 3

SCENE I. Troy. Before Priam's palace. 4

SCENE II. The Same. A street. 10

SCENE III. The Grecian camp. Before Agamemnon's tent. 26

ACT II 39

SCENE I. A part of the Grecian camp. 39

SCENE II. Troy. A room in Priam's palace. 48

SCENE III. The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. 55

ACT III 68

SCENE I. Troy. Priam's palace. 68

SCENE II. The same. Pandarus' orchard. 77

SCENE III. The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. 86

ACT IV.. 99

SCENE I. Troy. A street. 99

SCENE II. The same. Court of Pandarus' house. 103

SCENE III. The same. Street before Pandarus' house. 110

SCENE IV. The same. Pandarus' house. 111

SCENE V. The Grecian camp. Lists set out. 118

ACT V.. 133

SCENE I. The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. 133

SCENE II. The same. Before Calchas' tent. 139

SCENE III. Troy. Before Priam's palace. 152

SCENE IV. Plains between Troy and the Grecian camp. 159

SCENE V. Another part of the plains. 161

SCENE VI. Another part of the plains. 164

SCENE VII. Another part of the plains. 167

SCENE VIII. Another part of the plains. 169

SCENE IX. Another part of the plains. 171

SCENE X. Another part of the plains. 172

 


ACT I

PROLOGUE

 

    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