William Shakespeare
The History of Troilus and Cressida

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

PRIAM, King of Troy

His sons:

HECTOR

TROILUS

PARIS

DEIPHOBUS

HELENUS

MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam Trojan commanders:

AENEAS

ANTENOR

CALCHAS, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks

PANDARUS, uncle to Cressida

AGAMEMNON, the Greek general

MENELAUS, his brother Greek commanders:

ACHILLES

AJAX

ULYSSES

NESTOR

DIOMEDES

PATROCLUS

THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Greek

ALEXANDER, servant to Cressida

SERVANT to Troilus

SERVANT to Paris

SERVANT to Diomedes

HELEN, wife to Menelaus

ANDROMACHE, wife to Hector

CASSANDRA, daughter to Priam, a prophetess

CRESSIDA, daughter to Calchas Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants

SCENE: Troy and the Greek camp before it

PROLOGUE TROILUS AND CRESSIDA PROLOGUE

    In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
    The princes orgillous, their high blood chaf'd,
    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 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 war-like 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, Troyan 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.

ACT I. SCENE 1. 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 Troyan that is master of his heart,
    Let him to field; Troilus, alas, hath none!
  PANDARUS. Will this gear ne'er be mended?
  TROILUS. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
    Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
    But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
    Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
    Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
    And skilless as unpractis'd infancy.
  PANDARUS. Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part,
    I'll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a 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 suff'rance than I do.
    At Priam's royal table do I sit;
    And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts-
    So, traitor, then she comes when she is thence.
  PANDARUS. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw
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'-
    Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart-
    Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice,
    Handlest in thy discourse. O, that her hand,
    In whose comparison all whites are 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 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.
  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 a
Friday
    as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she
were a
    blackamoor; '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' th' 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. Sound
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 starv'd a subject for my sword.
    But Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague me!
    I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar;
    And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to 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 wand'ring 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 gor'd with Menelaus' horn.
[Alarum]
  AENEAS. Hark what good sport is out of town to-day!
  TROILUS. Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.'
    But to the sport abroad. Are you bound thither?
  AENEAS. In all swift haste.
  TROILUS. Come, go we then together.

Exeunt

ACT I. SCENE 2. Troy. A street

Enter CRESSIDA and her man ALEXANDER

  CRESSIDA. Who were those went by?
  ALEXANDER. Queen Hecuba and Helen.
  CRESSIDA. And whither go they?
  ALEXANDER. Up to the eastern tower,
    Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
    To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
    Is as a virtue fix'd, to-day was mov'd.
    He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;
    And, like as there were husbandry in war,
    Before the sun rose he was harness'd light,
    And to the field goes he; where every 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 Troyan blood, nephew to Hector;
    They call him Ajax.
  CRESSIDA. Good; and what of him?
  ALEXANDER. They say he is a very man per se,
    And stands alone.
  CRESSIDA. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have
no
    legs.
  ALEXANDER. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their
    particular additions: he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as
the
    bear, slow as the elephant-a man into whom nature hath so
crowded
    humours that his valour is crush'd 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 cop'd Hector in the battle and
    struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever
since
    kept Hector fasting and waking.

Enter PANDARUS

  CRESSIDA. Who comes here?
  ALEXANDER. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
  CRESSIDA. Hector's a gallant man.
  ALEXANDER. As may be in the world, lady.
  PANDARUS. What's that? What's that?
  CRESSIDA. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
  PANDARUS. Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you talk of? -
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
arm'd
    and gone ere you came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she?
  CRESSIDA. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.
  PANDARUS. E'en so. Hector was stirring early.
  CRESSIDA. That were we talking of, and of his anger.
  PANDARUS. Was he angry?
  CRESSIDA. So he says here.
  PANDARUS. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay
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.
  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 prais'd his complexion above Paris.
  CRESSIDA. Why, Paris hath colour enough.
  PANDARUS. So he has.
  CRESSIDA. Then Troilus should have too much. If she prais'd him
    above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour
    enough, and the other higher, is too flaming 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 compass'd 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' th' shell.
  PANDARUS. I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled
his
    chin. Indeed, she has a marvell's 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 laugh'd
that
    her eyes ran o'er.
  CRESSIDA. With millstones.
  PANDARUS. And Cassandra laugh'd.
  CRESSIDA. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of
her
    eyes. Did her eyes run o'er too?
  PANDARUS. And Hector laugh'd.
  CRESSIDA. At what was all this laughing?
  PANDARUS. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus'
    chin.
  CRESSIDA. An't had been a green hair I should have laugh'd too.
  PANDARUS. They laugh'd not so much at the hair as at his 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 blush'd, and Paris so chaf'd; and all the rest so
    laugh'd that it pass'd.
  CRESSIDA. So let it now; for it has been a great while going
by.
  PANDARUS. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think
on't.
  CRESSIDA. So I do.
  PANDARUS. I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, and 'twere
a
    man born in April.
  CRESSIDA. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle
    against May. [Sound a
retreat]
  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.

AENEAS passes

  CRESSIDA. Speak not so loud.
  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' 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.
  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! anything, 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
    hack'd 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.
  CRESSIDA. Here comes more.

Common soldiers pass

  PANDARUS. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran!
    porridge after meat! I could live and die in the eyes of
Troilus.
    Ne'er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone. Crows and daws,
    crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than
    Agamemnon and all Greece.
  CRESSIDA. There is amongst 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 minc'd man; and then to be bak'd with no date
in
    the pie, for then the man's date is out.
  PANDARUS. You are such a woman! A man 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, 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' 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 will 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 belov'd knows nought that knows not this:
    Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is.
    That she was never yet that ever 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.

Exit

ACT I. SCENE 3. The Grecian camp. Before AGAMEMNON'S tent

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

  AGAMEMNON. Princes,
    What grief hath set these jaundies o'er your cheeks?
    The ample proposition that hope makes
    In all designs begun on earth below
    Fails in the promis'd largeness; checks and disasters
    Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd,
    As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,
    Infects the sound pine, and diverts 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 affin'd 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 rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathise,
    And with an accent tun'd in self-same 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
    The 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 experienc'd tongue-yet let it please both,
    Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak.
  AGAMEMNON. Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't of less 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,
    Th' unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask.
    The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre,
    Observe degree, priority, and place,
    Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
    Office, and custom, in all line of order;
    And therefore is the glorious planet Sol
    In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd
    Amidst the other, whose med'cinable eye
    Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,
    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,
    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 shak'd,
    Which is the ladder of all high designs,
    The enterprise is sick! How could communities,
    Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,
    Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,
    The primogenity and due of birth,
    Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,
    But by degree, stand in authentic place?
    Take but degree away, untune that string,
    And hark what discord follows! Each thing melts
    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 disdain'd
    By him one step below, he by the next,
    That next by him beneath; so ever step,
    Exampl'd 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 unsquar'd,
    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 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, 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.
  NESTOR. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
    Makes many Thetis' sons.
[Tucket]
  AGAMEMNON. What trumpet? Look, Menelaus.
  MENELAUS. From Troy.

Enter AENEAS

  AGAMEMNON. What would you fore our tent?
  AENEAS. Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you?
  AGAMEMNON. Even this.
  AENEAS. May one that is a herald and a prince
    Do a fair message to his kingly eyes?
  AGAMEMNON. With surety stronger than Achilles' an
    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 Troyan 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, Troyan; lay thy finger on thy lips.
    The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
    If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth;
    But what the repining enemy commends,
    That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends.
  AGAMEMNON. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas?
  AENEAS. Ay, Greek, that is my name.
  AGAMEMNON. What's your affair, I pray you?
  AENEAS. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.
  AGAMEMNON. He hears nought privately that comes from Troy.
  AENEAS. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper with him;
    I bring a trumpet to awake his ear,
    To set his sense on the attentive bent,
    And then to speak.
  AGAMEMNON. Speak frankly as the wind;
    It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour.
    That thou shalt know, Troyan, he is awake,
    He tells thee so himself.
  AENEAS. Trumpet, blow loud,
    Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;
    And every Greek of mettle, let him 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!
    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 Troyans and of Greeks,
    Shall make it good or do his best to do it:
    He hath a lady wiser, fairer, truer,
    Than ever Greek did couple in his arms;
    And will to-morrow with his trumpet call
    Mid-way 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 mould
    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 grandame, 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 forfend such scarcity of youth!
  ULYSSES. Amen.
  AGAMEMNON. Fair Lord Aeneas, let me touch your hand;
    To our pavilion shall I lead you, first.
    Achilles shall have word of this intent;
    So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent.
    Yourself shall feast with us before you go,
    And find the welcome of a noble foe.

Exeunt all but ULYSSES and 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. True. 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. Why, 'tis most meet. Who may you else oppose
    That can from Hector bring those honours off,
    If not Achilles? Though 't be a sportful combat,
    Yet in this trial much opinion dwells;
    For here the Troyans taste our dear'st repute
    With their fin'st palate; and trust to me, Ulysses,
    Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd
    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 mas
    Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd
    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 distill'd
    Out of our virtues; who miscarrying,
    What heart receives from hence a conquering part,
    To steel a strong opinion to themselves?
    Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments,
    In no less working than are swords and 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,
    By showing the worst first. 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 wear 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 foil'd,
    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 employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes.
  NESTOR. 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 tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.

Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE 1. The Grecian camp

Enter Ajax and THERSITES

  AJAX. Thersites!
  THERSITES. Agamemnon-how if he had boils full, an over,
generally?
  AJAX. Thersites!
  THERSITES. And those boils did run-say so. Did not the general
run
    then? Were not that a botchy core?
  AJAX. Dog!
  THERSITES. Then there would come some matter from him;
    I see none now.
  AJAX. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Feel, then.
                                                        [Strikes
him]
  THERSITES. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel
beef-witted
    lord!
  AJAX. Speak, then, thou whinid'st leaven, speak. I will beat
thee
    into handsomeness.
  THERSITES. 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!
  AJAX. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.
  THERSITES. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me
thus?
  AJAX. The proclamation!
  THERSITES. Thou art proclaim'd, a fool, I think.
  AJAX. Do not, porpentine, do not; my fingers itch.
  THERSITES. I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had
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.
  AJAX. I say, the proclamation.
  THERSITES. 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.
  AJAX. Mistress Thersites!
  THERSITES. Thou shouldst strike him.
  AJAX. Cobloaf!
  THERSITES. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a
    sailor breaks a biscuit.
  AJAX. You whoreson cur! [Strikes
him]
  THERSITES. Do, do.
  AJAX. Thou stool for a witch!
  THERSITES. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no
more
    brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinico may tutor thee.

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