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But few now living can behold that goodness)
And all that shall suceed: Sheba was never
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her,
Shall see this, and bless heaven.
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
'Would I had known no more! but she must die,
To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honor,
In her days, every man shall eat in safety
Thou hast made me now a inan; never, before
As great in admiration as herself;
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of I have received much honor by your presence, And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords;
This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession of king James.
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
'Tis ten to one, this play can never please
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye,
All the expected good we are like to hear
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
PRIAM, King of Troy.
CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking part with the THERSITES, á deformed and scurrilous Grecu Greeks.
PANDARUS, Uncle to Cressida.
MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam.
AGAMEMNON, the Grecian General.
Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Servant to CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas.
The princes orgulous,' their high blood chafed,
With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
HELEN, Wife to Menelaus.
SCENE, Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it.
SCENE I.-Troy. Before Priam's Palace.
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.
In Troy there lies the scene. From isles of | Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan,
And Antenorides, with massy staples,
Now, expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Tro. Still have I tarried.
Pan. 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.
Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she
Doth lesser blerchs at sufferance than I do.
So, traitor! when she comes!-When is she thence?
Frn. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw ner look, or any woman else.
Tro. I was about to tell thee, -When my heart, As wedged with a sigh, would rive? in twain; Lest Hector of 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. Pan. 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's Cassandra's wit; but
Tro. 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; 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 ploughman! This thou tell'st
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.
Pan. I speak no more than truth.
Tro. Thou dost not speak so much,
Pun. 'Faith, I'll not ineddle 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.
Tro. Good Pandarus! how now, Pandarus? Pan. I have had my labor for my travel; illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between,but small thanks for my labor. Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?
Pan. Because she is 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.
Tro. Say I, she is not fair?
Pan. 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 no make nor more in the
Tro. Sweet Pandarus,
Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave all as I found it, and there an end.
[Exit PANDARUS. An Alarum. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamors! peace, rude sounds!
Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
Alarum. Enter ENEAS.
Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not a-field?
Tro. Because not there: This woman's answer
Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. Tro. By whom, Æneas? Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'Tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' born. Alarum Ene. Hark! what good sport is out of town to day!
Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were may.
But, to the sport abroad -Are you bound thither! Ene. In all swift haste.
Co womanish it is to be from thence.
Come, go we then together [Exeunt
SCENE II-A street.
Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER.
Queen Hecuba, and Helen.
Cres. And whither go they? Alex. 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 mov'd: He chid Andromache, and struck his armorer; 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.
What was his cause of anger? Alex. The noise goes, this: There is among the Greeks
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him Ajax.
Good; and of him? Alex. They say he is a very man per se,2 And stands alone.
Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs.
Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions ;3 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 i: he is melancholy without cause, and merry against the hair: He hath the joints of every thing; but every thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.
Cres. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry?
Alex. 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.
Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man, if you see him?
Cres. Ay, if ever I saw him before, and knew nim.
Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.
Cres. Then you say as I say; for I am sure he is Lot Hector.
Pun. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees.
Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he
Cres. So he is.
Pan. Condition, I had gone barefoot to India. Cres. He is not Hector.
Pan. Himself! no, he's not himself.-'Would 'a were himself? Well, the gods are above; Time must friend, or end: Well, Troilus, well,-1 would my heart were in her body!-No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.
Cres. Excuse me.
Pan. He is elder.
Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.
Pan. The other's not come to't; you shall tell me another tale, when the other's come to't. Hector shall not have his wit this year.
Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own. Pan. Nor his qualities:
Cres. No matter.
Pan. Nor his beauty.
Cres. Twould not become him, his own's bet
Pan. You have no judgment, niece: Helen herself swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown favor, (for so 'tis, I must confess,)-Not brown,
Cres. No, but brown.
Pun. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
Pan. She praised his complexion above Paris.
Cres. 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 her Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose.
Pan. I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris.
Cres. Then she's a merry Greek, indeed.
Pun. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him the other day into a compass'd window,and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin.
Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total.
Pan. Why, he is very young; and yet will he, within three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector.
Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter?? Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him; -she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin,
Cres. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven? Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think, his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.
Cres. O, he smiles valiantly.
Pan. Does he not?
Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.
Pan. Why, go to then-But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus,
Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so.
Pun. Troilus? why he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.
Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the shell.
Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin;-Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess.
Cres. Without the rack.
Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hur on his chin.
res. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. Ian. But, there was such laughing;-Queen Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er.
Cres. With mill-stones.8
Pan. And Cassandra laughed.
Cres. But there was a more temperate fire unde: the pot of her eyes;-Did her eyes run o'er too! Pan. And Hector laughed.
Cres. At what was all this laughing?
Pan. Merry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin.
Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed too.
Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.
Cres. What was his answer?
Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifly hairs on your chin, and one of them is white. Cres. This is her question.
Pan. That's true; make no question of that. One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white: That white hair is my father, and all the rest are his rons. Jupiter! quoth she, which of these hairs is Paris my husband? The forked one, quoth he; pluck i 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.?
Cres. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by.
Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on't.
Cres. So I do.
Pan. I'll be sworn, 'tis true; he will weep you an 'twere a man born in April."
Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May. [A Retreat sounded. Pan. 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. Cres. At your pleasure.
PARIS passes over.
Pan. 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: look ye yonder, niece; Is't not a gal lant 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.
Cres. Who's that?
HELENUS passes over. Pan. That's Helenus,-I marvel, where Troilus A proverbial saying. Went beyond bounds, A term in the game at cards called uoddy.
Is-That's Helenus;-I think he went not forth to-day-That's Helenus.
Cres. Can Helenus fight, uncle?
Pan. Helenus? no;-yes, he'll fight indifferent well:-1 marvel, where Troilus is!-Hark; do you not hear the people cry, Troilus-Helenus is a priest.
Cres. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
TROILUS passes over.
Pan. Where yonder that's Deiphobus: 'Tis Troilus! there's a man, niece!-Hem!-Brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry!
Cres. Peace, for shame, peace! Pan. Mark him; note him;-0 brave Troilus! -look well upon him, niece; look you, how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than Hector's; And how he looks, and how he goes! - 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.
SCENE III.-The Grecian Camp. Before
Trumpets. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES.
What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks
But the protractive trials of great Jove,
Nest. With due observance of thy godlike seat,
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
Bounding between the two moist elements,
The herd hath more annoyance by the brize,7
As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,
Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,
That matter needless, of importless burden,
4 Twisted and rambling. Since.
Joined by affinity • Expectation.