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SCENE I.- Troy. A Street.


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Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand : Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told-how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field.

Ene. Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle truce: But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance, As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health: But when contention and occasion meet, By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life, With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly With his face backward. In humane gentleness, Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear, No man alive can love, in such a sort, The thing he means to kill, more excellently.

Dio. We sympathize: Jove, let Æneas live, If to my sword his fate be not the glory, A thousand complete courses of the sun! But, in mine emulous honour, let him die, With every joint a wound; and that to-morrow! Ene. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse. Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. What business, lord, so early?

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Ene. I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not.

Par. His purpose meets you; 'Twas to bring

this Greek

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He merits well to have her, that doth seek her
(Not making any scruple of her soilure,)
With such a hell of pain, and world of charge;
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the taste of her dishonour,)
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends:
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors;
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more;
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman
Dio. She's bitter to her country: Hear me, Paris.—
For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,

A Trojan hath been slain; since she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath,
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.

Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:
But we in silence hold this virtue well, -
We'll not commend what we intend to sell.
Here lies our way.

SCENE II.- The same.


Court before the House of PANDARUS.


Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down;

He shall unbolt the gates.


Trouble him not;

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Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor ca-
pocchia! hast not slept to-night? would he not,
a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him!
Cres. Did I not tell you?-'would he were
knock'd o'the head!—

Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see. —
My lord, come you again into my chamber :
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
Tro. Ha ha!

Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such


How earnestly they knock! pray you, come in;
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.
Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there? what's
the matter? will you beat down the door? How
now? what's the matter?

Enter ENEAS.

Ene. Good-morrow, lord, good-morrow.
Pan. Who's there? my lord Æneas? By my troth,
I knew you not what news with you so early?
Ene. Is not prince Troilus here?
Pan. Here! what should he do here?

Ene. Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny

It doth import him much, to speak with me.

Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be sworn: -- For my own part, I came in late: What should he do here?

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Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are 'ware:
You'll be so true to him, to be false to him:

Do not you know of him, yet go fetch him hither;

AS PANDARUS is going out, enter TROILUS.
Tro. How now? what's the matter?
Ene. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute
My matter is so rash: There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.


Is it so concluded?



Cres. How now? what is the matter? Who was
Pan. Ah, ah!

Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my
lord gone?

Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above!

Cres. O the gods!

- what's the matter? Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in; 'Would thou had'st ne'er been born! I knew, thou would'st be his death: O poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor! Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, I beseech you, what's the matter?

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Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor: thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus; 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.

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Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity;
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus.
· O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very center of the earth,

Drawing all things to it. - I'll go in, and weep; —
Pan. Do, do.

Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised

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Par. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon : Good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,

And haste her to the purpose.


Walk in to her house;

I'll bring her to the Grecian presently:
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there offering to it his own heart.
Par. I know what 'tis to love;
And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help!
Please you, walk in, my lords.

Ene. By Priam, and the general state of Troy: SCENE IV. — The same.
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

Tro. How my achievements mock me!

I will go meet them: and, my lord Æneas,

We met by chance; you did not find me here.
Ene. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature
Have not more gift in taciturnity.

[Exeunt TROILUS and ENEAS.

Par. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would, they had broke's


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Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents

Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath:
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how :
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu;
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears.

Ene. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready?
Tro. Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the Genius so
Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die. ·
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind,
or my heart will be blown up by the root?
Cres. I must then to the Greeks?

No remedy. Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?

Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of heart,

Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem is this? Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,

For it is parting from us :

I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
For I will throw my glove to death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart:
But, be thou true, say I, to fashion in

My sequent protestation; be thou true,
And I will see thee.

Cres. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true.

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But something may be done, that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.
Ene. [Within.] Nay, good my lord,


Par. Within.]


Come, kiss; and let us part. Brother Troilus !

Good brother, come you hither;

And bring Æneas, and the Grecian, with you.
Cres. My lord, will you be true?

Tro. Who I? alas, it is my vice, my fault;
While others fish with craft for great opinion,

I with great truth catch mere simplicity;

Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit
Is-plain, and true, - there's all the reach of it.


Welcome, sir Diomed! here is the lady,
Which for Antenor we deliver you:
At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand;
And, by the way, possess thee what she is.
Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Ilion.


Fair lady Cressid,

So please you, save the thanks this prince expects
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,
Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee,
In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises,

As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant.

I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge; For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,

Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
I'll cut thy throat.


O, be not mov'd, prince Troilus :
Let me be privileg'd by my place, and message,
To be a speaker free; when I am hence,
I'll answer to my lust: And know you, lord,
I'll nothing do on charge: To her own worth
She shall be priz'd; but that you say -be't so,
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour, —
Tro. Come, to the port. - I'll tell thee, Diomed,
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.
Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
[Trumpet heard.


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Patr. Paris, and I, kiss evermore for him.

Men. I'll have my kiss, sir :-Lady, by your leave.
Cres. In kissing, do you render or receive?
Patr. Both take and give.


I'll make my match to live,

The kiss you take is better than you give ;
Therefore no kiss.

Men. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.
Cres. You're an odd man; give even, or give none.
Men. An odd man, lady? every man is odd.
Cres. No, Paris is not; for, you know, 'tis true,
That you are odd, and he is even with you.
Men. You fillip me o' the head.

No, I'll be sworn.

Par. Hark! Hector s trumpet.
How have we spent this morning!
The prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him to the field.
Par. 'Tis Troilus' fault: Come, come, to field May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?
with him.

Ulyss. It were no match, your nail against his

Dei. Let us make ready straight.

Ene. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity,
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels:
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
On his fair worth, and single chivalry.

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SCENE V. The Grecian Camp. Lists set out.

I do desire it.

Cres. You may.
Why, beg then.
Ulyss. Why then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss,
When Helen is a maid again, and his.

Cres. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due. Ulyss. Never's my day, and then a kiss of you. Dio. Lady, a word; - I'll bring you to your father. [DIOMED leads out CRESSIDA. Nest. A woman of quick sense. Ulyss. Fye, fye upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Agam. Here art thou in appointment fresh and Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out



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At every joint and motive of her body.
O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes,
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
To every ticklish reader! set them down
For sluttish spoils of opportunity,

And daughters of the game. [Trumpet within.
All. The Trojans' trumpet.

Yonder comes the troop.

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Ene. Therefore Achilles: But, whate'er, know this;

In the extremity of great and little,

Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector;
The one almost as infinite as all,

The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well,
And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy.
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood:
In love whereof, half Hector stays at home;

Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek This blended knight, half Trojan, and half Greek. Achil. A maiden battle then?-O, I perceive you. Re-enter DIOMED.

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Agam. Here is sir Diomed: Go, gentle knight, Stand by our Ajax: as you and lord Æneas Consent upon the order of their fight,

So be it; either to the uttermost,

Or else a breath: the combatants being kin, Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. [AJAX and HECTOR enter the lists.

Ulyss. They are oppos'd already. Agam. What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?

Ulyss. The youngest son of Priam, a true knight;
Not yet mature, yet matchless: firm of word;
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue;
Not soon provok'd, nor, being provok'd, soon

His heart and hand both open, and both free;
For what he has, he gives; what thinks, he shows;
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty,
Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath:
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;
For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes
To tender objects; but he, in heat of action,
Is more vindicative than jealous love:
They call him Troilus; and on him erect
A second hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus says Eneas; one that knows the youth
Even to his inches, and, with private soul,
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.
[Alarum. HECTOR and AJAX fight.

Agam. They are in action.
Nest. Now, Ajax, hold thine own!


Awake thee!

Cries, This is he,) could promise to himself
A thought of added honour torn from Hector.
Ene. There is expectance here from both the sides,
What further you will do.


We'll answer it;

The issue is embracement :

Ajax, farewell. Ajax. If I might in entreaties find success, (As seld' I have the chance,) I would desire My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.

Dio. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles
Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector.
Hect. Æneas, call my brother Troilus to me:
And signify this loving interview

To the expecters of our Trojan part;
Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin ;
I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.
Ajar. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
Hect. The worthiest of them tell me name by


But for Achilles, my own searching eyes
Shall find him by his large and portly size.

Agam. Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one That would be rid of such an enemy;

But that's no welcome: Understand more clear What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd with husks

And formless ruin of oblivion;

But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing,
Bids thee, with most divine integrity,
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.
Hect. I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon
Agam. My well-fam'd lord of Troy, no less to you.
Men. Let me confirm my princely brother's

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Hector, thou sleep'st: You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
Hect. Whom must we answer?

Agam. His blows are well dispos'd: — there,

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Why then, will I no more :

Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son,
A cousin-german to great Priam's seed;
The obligation of our blood forbids

A gory emulation 'twixt us twain:

Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so,

That thou could'st say

This hand is Grecian all, And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister Bounds-in my father's; by Jove multipotent, Thou should'st not bear from me a Greekish member Wherein my sword had not impressure made Of our rank feud: But the just gods gainsay, That any drop thou borrow'st from thy mother, My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword Be drain'd! Let me embrace thee, Ajax : By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms; Hector would have them fall upon him thus: Cousin, all honour to thee!

Ajax. I thank thee, Hector : Thou art too gentle, and too free a man : I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence

A great addition earned in thy death.

Hect. Not Neoptolemus so mirable

The noble Menelaus. Hect. O you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, thanks!

Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath ;
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove:
She's well, but bade me not commend her to you.
Men. Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly


Hct. O, pardon; I offend.

Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way

Through ranks of Greekish youth: and I have seen


As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed,
Despising many forfeits and subduements,
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i'the air
Not letting it decline on the declin'd;
That I have said to some my standers-by,
Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling: This have I seen;
But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel,
I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire,
And once fought with him : he was a soldier good;
But, by great Mars, the captain of us all,
Never like thee: Let an old man embrace thee;
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.
Ene. 'Tis the old Nestor.

Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time:

(On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st O yes | Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.


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