Troilus & Cressida

As many as be here of Pandar’s hall, Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar’s fall; Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.

Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed! Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy! I say at once, let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on!

Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, Till he hath lost his honey and his sting; And being once subdu’d in armed tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.

I’ll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy’s thoughts. Strike a free march. To Troy with comfort go; Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

It should be now, but that my fear is this, Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss. Till then I’ll sweat and seek about for eases, And at that time bequeath you my diseases.

Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set, How ugly night comes breathing at his heels; Even with the vail and dark’ning of the sun, To close the day up, Hector’s life is done.

Now is my day’s work done, I’ll take good breath. Rest, sword, thou hast thy fill of blood and death.

Here, there, and every where, he leaves and takes, Dexterity so obeying appetite That what he will he does, and does so much That proof is call’d impossibility.

who hath done today Mad and fantastic execution, Engaging and redeeming of himself With such a careless force, and forceless care, As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, Bade him win all.

Consort with me in loud and dear petition, Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.

Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together. My love with words and errors still she feeds, But edifies another with her deeds.

Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast, He is thy crutch. Now if thou lose thy stay, Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, Fall all together.

No, faith, young Troilus, doff thy harness, youth, I am today i’ th’ vein of chivalry. Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong, And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.

When was my lord so much ungently temper’d To stop his ears against admonishment?

May worthy Troilus be half attached With that which here his passion doth express?

Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore. The parrot will not do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab.

That same Diomed’s a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave. I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent when he hisses.

Good night and welcome, both at once, to those That go or tarry.

Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That hast so long walk’d hand in hand with time. Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.

She was belov’d, she lov’d; she is, and doth: But still sweet love is food for fortune’s tooth.

There Diomed doth feast with him tonight, Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid.

There in the full convive we. Afterwards, As Hector’s leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat him. Beat loud the taborins, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know.

There they stand yet, and modestly I think The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost A drop of Grecian blood. The end crowns all, And that old common arbitrator, Time, Will one day end it.

This have I seen, But this thy countenance, still lock’d in steel, I never saw till now.

Hail, all the state of Greece! What shall be done To him that victory commands? Or do you purpose A victor shall be known?

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 impare 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.

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.

Will you the knights Shall to the edge of all extremity Pursue each other, or shall they be divided By any voice or order of the field? Hector bade ask.

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 off’ring to it his own heart.

It is great morning, and the hour prefix’d For her delivery to this valiant Greek Comes fast upon.

Whiles 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.

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.

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!

O Cressida! But that the busy day, Wak’d by the lark, hath rous’d the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.

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 centre of the earth, Drawing all things to it.

Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, Dispraise the thing that they desire to buy, But we in silence hold this virtue well, We’ll not commend what we intend to sell.

He must fight singly tomorrow with Hector, and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying nothing.

If tomorrow be a fair day, by aleven of the clock it will go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.

Is the Prince there in person? Had I so good occasion to lie long As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

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.

ruminates like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say there were wit in this head and ’twould out—and so there is;

There is no help. The bitter disposition of the time Will have it so. On, lord, we’ll follow you.

A strange fellow here Writes me that man, how dearly ever parted, How much in having, or without or in, Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;

but eye to eye opposed, Salutes each other with each other’s form; For speculation turns not to itself, Till it hath travell’d and is mirror’d there Where it may see itself.

I do believe it, for they pass’d by me As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me Good word nor look.

Sweet, rouse yourself, and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, And like a dewdrop from the lion’s mane, Be shook to air.

The beauty that is borne here in the face The bearer knows not, but commends itself To others’ eyes;

The cry went once on thee, And still it might, and yet it may again, If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive And case thy reputation in thy tent,

There is a mystery (with whom relation Durst never meddle) in the soul of state, Which hath an operation more divine Than breath or pen can give expressure to.