Enter Thersites. Ther. A wonder! And I myself see not the bottom of it. Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had for himself. rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance. [Exit. Achil. How so? Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. Achil. How can that be? Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, a stride and a stand: ruminates, like a 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, an 'twould out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i'the combat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I said, Good-morrow, Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin. Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites. Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his presence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax. ACT IV. SCENE I.-Troy. A street. Enter, at one side, Par. See, ho! who's that there? Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand : Ene. Health to you, valiant sir, Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health: Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him,-I humbly But when contention and occasion meet, desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life, Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to pro- With all my force, pursuit, and policy. cure safe conduct for his person, of the magnani- Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly mous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-hon-With his face backward.—In humane gentleness, oured captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this. Patr. Your answer, sir. Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. Achil. Why, but he is not in his tune, is he? Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings' on. Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable2 creature. Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr❜d; (1) Lute-strings made of catgut, (2) Intelligent. Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, 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? Ene. I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not. Par. His purpose meets you; 'Twas to bring this Greek To Calchas' house; and there to render him, Ene. Par. The bitter disposition of the time ne. Good morrow, all. Exit. -Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid? Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,- Dio. He merits well to have her, that doth seek her Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman. For every false drop in her bawdy veins A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak, 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. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Court before the house of Pandarus. Enter Troilus and Cressida. 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. Tro. Trouble him not; Tro. Pr'ythee now, to bed. Good morrow then. Are you a-weary of me? Tro. 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. Cres. Night hath been too brief. Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays, As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love, With wings more momentary-swift than thought. You will catch cold, and curse me. Cres. You men will never tarry.. Pr'ythee, tarry ;— Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking: uncle! Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia !4-hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! [Knocking. Cres. Did I not tell you?-Would he were knock'd o'the head! Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see.- Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.[Knocking. How earnestly they knock !-pray you, come in; I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt Troilus and Cressida. 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 Æneas. Ene. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. Pan. Who's there? my lord Eneas? 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 him; It doth import him much, to speak with me. I'll be sworn :-For my own part, I came in late: Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, What should he do here? Ene. Who!-nay, then : Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are 'ware: As Pandarus is going out, enter Troilus. Tro. How now? what's the matter? Ene. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, My matter is so rash: There is at hand Tro. Tro. How my achievements mock me! I will go meet them: and, my lord Æneas, ture Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt Troilus and Æneas. Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. Pan. How now, how now? how go maiden- A plague upon Antenor: I would, they had broke's heads? I shall have such a life, Lewd, noisy. neck! (3) Ill betide. To do is here used in a wanton sense. (4) An Italian word for poor fool, (5) Hasty. Enter Cressida. Cres. O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him. Cres. How now? What is the matter? Who me embrace too: O heart!-as the goodly saying was here? Pan. Ah, ah! Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? Cres. O the gods!-what's the matter? Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in; 'Would thou hadst ne'er been born! I knew, thou would'st be his death:-0 poor gentleman!-A plague upon An tenor? Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, I beseech you, what's the matter? 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. Cres. O you immortal gods!-I will not go. Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father; Do to this body what extremes you can; Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks, is, o heart, o heavy heart, Why sigh'st thou without breaking? where he answers again, Because thou canst not ease thy smart, By friendship, nor by speaking. There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast away Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case. Cres. What, and from Troilus too? Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart SCENE III.-The same. Before Pandarus' Par. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd And haste her to the purpose. Tro. Ene. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready? Genius so Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die.- Walk in to her house; or my heart will be blown up by the root! I'll bring her to the Grecian presently: Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help!- [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The same. A room in Pandarus' house. Enter Pandarus and Cressida. Pan. Be moderate, be moderate. Cres. Why tell you me of moderation? The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, And violenteth in a sense as strong As that which causeth it: How can I moderate it? But be thou true, say I, to fashion in To give thee nightly visitation. O heavens!-be true again? Tro. Hear why I speak it, love; The Grecian youths are full of quality;' I'll answer to my lust: And know you, lord, Tro. Come, to the port.-I'll tell thee, Diomed, They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. flowing, And swelling o'er with arts and exercise; How novelty may move, and parts with person, (Which I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,) Cres. O heavens! you love me not. nant: But I can tell, that in each grace of these Cres. Do you think I will? Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk, Par. Hark! Hector's trumpet. Ene. Dei. Let us make ready straight. Ene. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity, preg-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. SCENE V.-The Grecian camp. Lists set out. Enter Ajax armed; Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor, and others. Agam. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, But something may be done, that we will not: Tro. Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault: crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. Welcome, sir Diomed! here is the lady, Dio. Fair lady Cressid, So please you, save the thanks this prince expects: You shall be mistress, and command him wholly. I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge; Dio. Anticipating time with starting courage. Ajax. Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout Thou blow'st for Hector. Ulyss. No trumpet answers. [Trumpet sounds. 'Tis but early days. Agam. Is not yon Diomed, with Calchas' daughter? Ulyss. "Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait; He rises on the toe: that spirit of his In aspiration lifts him from the earth, Enter Diomed, with Cressida. Nest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss. Achil. I'll take that winter from your lips, fair Men. I had good argument for kissing once. scorns! For which we lose our heads, to gild his horns. Men. (5) Pleasure, will. Ulyss Cres. I do desire it. Ulyss. Why then for Venus' sake, give me a kiss, Why, beg then. 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. Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive' of her body. O, these encounters, 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. All. The Trojans' trumpet. Agam. [Trumpet within. Yonder comes the troop. this ; In the extremity of great and little, The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, (1) Motion. (2) Breathing, exercise. (3) Stops. (4) No boaster. (5) Unsuitable to his character. (6) Yields, gives way. Re-enter Diomed. Stand by our Ajax: as you and lord Eneas Ulyss. The youngest son of Priam, a true knight; Agam. They are in action. Tro. Awake thee! Agam. His blows are well dispos'd:-there, Ajax ! ne. Hector, thou sleep'st; [Trumpets cease. Princes, enough, so please you. Ajax. I am not warm yet, let us fight again. Dio. As Hector pleases. Hect. 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 were thy commixion Greek and Trojan so, A gorys emulation 'twixt us twain: 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 sinister10 Thou should'st not bear from me a Greekish member Bounds-in my father's; by Jove's multipotent, of our rank feud: But the just gods gainsay, Wherein my sword had not impressure made 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; Cousin, all honour to thee! Hector would have them fall upon him thus: Ajax. (7) Explain his character. (8) Bloody. |