The History of Troilus and Cressida
Уильям Шекспир




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.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/uilyam-shekspir/the-history-of-troilus-and-cressida/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.


