Part 196

ACHILLES. Thou art too brief. I will the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.

HECTOR. O, like a book of sport thou’lt read me o’er; But there’s more in me than thou understand’st. Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?

ACHILLES. Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body Shall I destroy him? Whether there, or there, or there? That I may give the local wound a name, And make distinct the very breach whereout Hector’s great spirit flew. Answer me, heavens.

HECTOR. It would discredit the blest gods, proud man, To answer such a question. Stand again. Think’st thou to catch my life so pleasantly As to prenominate in nice conjecture Where thou wilt hit me dead?

ACHILLES. I tell thee yea.

HECTOR. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, I’d not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well; For I’ll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, I’ll kill thee everywhere, yea, o’er and o’er. You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag. His insolence draws folly from my lips; But I’ll endeavour deeds to match these words, Or may I never—

AJAX. Do not chafe thee, cousin; And you, Achilles, let these threats alone Till accident or purpose bring you to’t. You may have every day enough of Hector, If you have stomach. The general state, I fear, Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.

HECTOR. I pray you let us see you in the field; We have had pelting wars since you refus’d The Grecians’ cause.

ACHILLES. Dost thou entreat me, Hector? Tomorrow do I meet thee, fell as death; Tonight all friends.

HECTOR. Thy hand upon that match.

AGAMEMNON. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; There in the full convive we; afterwards, As Hector’s leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat him. Beat loud the tambourines, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know.

[_Exeunt all but Troilus and Ulysses_.]

TROILUS. My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?

ULYSSES. At Menelaus’ tent, most princely Troilus. 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.

TROILUS. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon’s tent, To bring me thither?

ULYSSES. You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there That wails her absence?

TROILUS. O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? She was belov’d, she lov’d; she is, and doth; But still sweet love is food for fortune’s tooth.

[_Exeunt_.]

ACT V

SCENE I. The Grecian camp. Before the tent of Achilles.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus.

ACHILLES. I’ll heat his blood with Greekish wine tonight, Which with my scimitar I’ll cool tomorrow. Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

PATROCLUS. Here comes Thersites.

Enter Thersites.

ACHILLES. How now, thou core of envy! Thou crusty batch of nature, what’s the news?

THERSITES. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot worshippers, here’s a letter for thee.

ACHILLES. From whence, fragment?

THERSITES. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.

PATROCLUS. Who keeps the tent now?

THERSITES. The surgeon’s box or the patient’s wound.

PATROCLUS. Well said, adversity! And what needs these tricks?

THERSITES. Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou art said to be Achilles’ male varlet.

PATROCLUS. Male varlet, you rogue! What’s that?

THERSITES. Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping ruptures, catarrhs, loads o’ gravel in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i’ th’ palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries!

PATROCLUS. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus?

THERSITES. Do I curse thee?

PATROCLUS. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no.

THERSITES. No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleave silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal’s purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies, diminutives of nature!

PATROCLUS. Out, gall!

THERSITES. Finch egg!

ACHILLES. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite From my great purpose in tomorrow’s battle. Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, A token from her daughter, my fair love, Both taxing me and gaging me to keep An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it. Fall Greeks; fail fame; honour or go or stay; My major vow lies here, this I’ll obey. Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent; This night in banqueting must all be spent. Away, Patroclus!

[_Exit with_ Patroclus.]

THERSITES. With too much blood and too little brain these two may run mad; but, if with too much brain and too little blood they do, I’ll be a curer of madmen. Here’s Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he has not so much brain as ear-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the primitive statue and oblique memorial of cuckolds, a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain at his brother’s leg, to what form but that he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice forced with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were nothing: he is both ass and ox. To an ox, were nothing: he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchook, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus. Hey-day! sprites and fires!

Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus and Diomedes with lights.

AGAMEMNON. We go wrong, we go wrong.

AJAX. No, yonder ’tis; There, where we see the lights.

HECTOR. I trouble you.

AJAX. No, not a whit.

ULYSSES. Here comes himself to guide you.

Re-enter Achilles.

ACHILLES. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, Princes all.

AGAMEMNON. So now, fair Prince of Troy, I bid good night; Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.

HECTOR. Thanks, and good night to the Greeks’ general.

MENELAUS. Good night, my lord.

HECTOR. Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus.

THERSITES. Sweet draught! ‘Sweet’ quoth a’! Sweet sink, sweet sewer!

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

AGAMEMNON. Good night.

[_Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus_.]

ACHILLES. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed, Keep Hector company an hour or two.

DIOMEDES. I cannot, lord; I have important business, The tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector.

HECTOR. Give me your hand.

ULYSSES. [_Aside to Troilus._] Follow his torch; he goes to Calchas’ tent; I’ll keep you company.

TROILUS. Sweet sir, you honour me.

HECTOR. And so, good night.

[_Exit Diomedes, Ulysses and Troilus following._]

ACHILLES. Come, come, enter my tent.

[_Exeunt all but_ Thersites.]

THERSITES. 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. He will spend his mouth and promise, like Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell it: it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun borrows of the moon when Diomed keeps his word. I will rather leave to see Hector than not to dog him. They say he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas’ tent. I’ll after. Nothing but lechery! All incontinent varlets!

[_Exit_.]

SCENE II. The Grecian camp. Before Calchas’ tent.

Enter Diomedes.

DIOMEDES. What, are you up here, ho! Speak.

CALCHAS. [_Within_.] Who calls?

DIOMEDES. Diomed. Calchas, I think. Where’s your daughter?

CALCHAS. [_Within_.] She comes to you.

Enter Troilus and Ulysses, at a distance; after them Thersites.

ULYSSES. Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Enter Cressida.

TROILUS. Cressid comes forth to him.

DIOMEDES. How now, my charge!

CRESSIDA. Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a word with you.

[_Whispers_.]

TROILUS. Yea, so familiar?

ULYSSES. She will sing any man at first sight.

THERSITES. And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff; she’s noted.

DIOMEDES. Will you remember?

CRESSIDA. Remember! Yes.

DIOMEDES. Nay, but do, then; And let your mind be coupled with your words.

TROILUS. What should she remember?

ULYSSES. List!

CRESSIDA. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.

THERSITES. Roguery!

DIOMEDES. Nay, then—

CRESSIDA. I’ll tell you what—

DIOMEDES. Fo, fo! come, tell a pin; you are a forsworn.

CRESSIDA. In faith, I cannot. What would you have me do?

THERSITES. A juggling trick, to be secretly open.

DIOMEDES. What did you swear you would bestow on me?

CRESSIDA. I prithee, do not hold me to mine oath; Bid me do anything but that, sweet Greek.

DIOMEDES. Good night.

TROILUS. Hold, patience!

ULYSSES. How now, Trojan!

CRESSIDA. Diomed!

DIOMEDES. No, no, good night; I’ll be your fool no more.

TROILUS. Thy better must.

CRESSIDA. Hark! a word in your ear.

TROILUS. O plague and madness!

ULYSSES. You are moved, Prince; let us depart, I pray, Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous; The time right deadly; I beseech you, go.

TROILUS. Behold, I pray you.

ULYSSES. Nay, good my lord, go off; You flow to great distraction; come, my lord.

TROILUS. I pray thee stay.

ULYSSES. You have not patience; come.

TROILUS. I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell’s torments, I will not speak a word.

DIOMEDES. And so, good night.

CRESSIDA. Nay, but you part in anger.

TROILUS. Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth!

ULYSSES. How now, my lord?

TROILUS. By Jove, I will be patient.

CRESSIDA. Guardian! Why, Greek!

DIOMEDES. Fo, fo! adieu! you palter.

CRESSIDA. In faith, I do not. Come hither once again.

ULYSSES. You shake, my lord, at something; will you go? You will break out.

TROILUS. She strokes his cheek.

ULYSSES. Come, come.

TROILUS. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word: There is between my will and all offences A guard of patience. Stay a little while.

THERSITES. How the devil Luxury, with his fat rump and potato finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry!

DIOMEDES. But will you, then?

CRESSIDA. In faith, I will, la; never trust me else.

DIOMEDES. Give me some token for the surety of it.

CRESSIDA. I’ll fetch you one.

[_Exit_.]

ULYSSES. You have sworn patience.

TROILUS. Fear me not, my lord; I will not be myself, nor have cognition Of what I feel. I am all patience.

Re-enter Cressida.

THERSITES. Now the pledge; now, now, now!

CRESSIDA. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.

TROILUS. O beauty! where is thy faith?

ULYSSES. My lord!

TROILUS. I will be patient; outwardly I will.

CRESSIDA. You look upon that sleeve; behold it well. He lov’d me—O false wench!—Give’t me again.

DIOMEDES. Whose was’t?

CRESSIDA. It is no matter, now I have’t again. I will not meet with you tomorrow night. I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more.

THERSITES. Now she sharpens. Well said, whetstone.

DIOMEDES. I shall have it.

CRESSIDA. What, this?

DIOMEDES. Ay, that.

CRESSIDA. O all you gods! O pretty, pretty pledge! Thy master now lies thinking on his bed Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove, And gives memorial dainty kisses to it, As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me; He that takes that doth take my heart withal.

DIOMEDES. I had your heart before; this follows it.

TROILUS. I did swear patience.

CRESSIDA. You shall not have it, Diomed; faith, you shall not; I’ll give you something else.

DIOMEDES. I will have this. Whose was it?

CRESSIDA. It is no matter.

DIOMEDES. Come, tell me whose it was.

CRESSIDA. ’Twas one’s that lov’d me better than you will. But, now you have it, take it.

DIOMEDES. Whose was it?

CRESSIDA. By all Diana’s waiting women yond, And by herself, I will not tell you whose.

DIOMEDES. Tomorrow will I wear it on my helm, And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.

TROILUS. Wert thou the devil and wor’st it on thy horn, It should be challeng’d.

CRESSIDA. Well, well, ’tis done, ’tis past; and yet it is not; I will not keep my word.

DIOMEDES. Why, then farewell; Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.

CRESSIDA. You shall not go. One cannot speak a word But it straight starts you.

DIOMEDES. I do not like this fooling.

THERSITES. Nor I, by Pluto; but that that likes not you Pleases me best.

DIOMEDES. What, shall I come? The hour?

CRESSIDA. Ay, come; O Jove! Do come. I shall be plagu’d.

DIOMEDES. Farewell till then.

CRESSIDA. Good night. I prithee come.

[_Exit_ Diomedes.]

Troilus, farewell! One eye yet looks on thee; But with my heart the other eye doth see. Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find, The error of our eye directs our mind. What error leads must err; O, then conclude, Minds sway’d by eyes are full of turpitude.

[_Exit_.]

THERSITES. A proof of strength she could not publish more, Unless she said ‘My mind is now turn’d whore.’

ULYSSES. All’s done, my lord.

TROILUS. It is.

ULYSSES. Why stay we, then?

TROILUS. To make a recordation to my soul Of every syllable that here was spoke. But if I tell how these two did co-act, Shall I not lie in publishing a truth? Sith yet there is a credence in my heart, An esperance so obstinately strong, That doth invert th’attest of eyes and ears; As if those organs had deceptious functions Created only to calumniate. Was Cressid here?

ULYSSES. I cannot conjure, Trojan.

TROILUS. She was not, sure.

ULYSSES. Most sure she was.

TROILUS. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.

ULYSSES. Nor mine, my lord. Cressid was here but now.

TROILUS. Let it not be believ’d for womanhood. Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme, For depravation, to square the general sex By Cressid’s rule. Rather think this not Cressid.

ULYSSES. What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our mothers?

TROILUS. Nothing at all, unless that this were she.

THERSITES. Will he swagger himself out on’s own eyes?

TROILUS. This she? No; this is Diomed’s Cressida. If beauty have a soul, this is not she; If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies, If sanctimony be the god’s delight, If there be rule in unity itself, This was not she. O madness of discourse, That cause sets up with and against itself! Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt Without perdition, and loss assume all reason Without revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid. Within my soul there doth conduce a fight Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate Divides more wider than the sky and earth; And yet the spacious breadth of this division Admits no orifice for a point as subtle As Ariachne’s broken woof to enter. Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto’s gates: Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven. Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself: The bonds of heaven are slipp’d, dissolv’d, and loos’d; And with another knot, five-finger-tied, The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy relics Of her o’er-eaten faith, are given to Diomed.

ULYSSES. May worthy Troilus be half attach’d With that which here his passion doth express?

TROILUS. Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well In characters as red as Mars his heart Inflam’d with Venus. Never did young man fancy With so eternal and so fix’d a soul. Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressid love, So much by weight hate I her Diomed. That sleeve is mine that he’ll bear on his helm; Were it a casque compos’d by Vulcan’s skill My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful spout Which shipmen do the hurricano call, Constring’d in mass by the almighty sun, Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune’s ear In his descent than shall my prompted sword Falling on Diomed.

THERSITES. He’ll tickle it for his concupy.

TROILUS. O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false! Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, And they’ll seem glorious.

ULYSSES. O, contain yourself; Your passion draws ears hither.

Enter Aeneas.

AENEAS. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord. Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy; Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home.

TROILUS. Have with you, Prince. My courteous lord, adieu. Fairwell, revolted fair! and, Diomed, Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head.

ULYSSES. I’ll bring you to the gates.

TROILUS. Accept distracted thanks.

[_Exeunt Troilus, Aeneas and Ulysses_.]

THERSITES. Would I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like a raven; I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me anything for the intelligence of this whore; the parrot will not do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, lechery! Still wars and lechery! Nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil take them!

[_Exit_.]

SCENE III. Troy. Before Priam’s palace.

Enter Hector and Andromache.

ANDROMACHE. When was my lord so much ungently temper’d To stop his ears against admonishment? Unarm, unarm, and do not fight today.

HECTOR. You train me to offend you; get you in. By all the everlasting gods, I’ll go.

ANDROMACHE. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day.

HECTOR. No more, I say.

Enter Cassandra.

CASSANDRA. Where is my brother Hector?

ANDROMACHE. Here, sister, arm’d, and bloody in intent. 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.

CASSANDRA. O, ’tis true!

HECTOR. Ho! bid my trumpet sound.

CASSANDRA. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother!

HECTOR. Be gone, I say. The gods have heard me swear.

CASSANDRA. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; They are polluted off’rings, more abhorr’d Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.

ANDROMACHE. O, be persuaded! Do not count it holy To hurt by being just. It is as lawful, For we would give much, to use violent thefts And rob in the behalf of charity.

CASSANDRA. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; But vows to every purpose must not hold. Unarm, sweet Hector.

HECTOR. Hold you still, I say. Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate. Life every man holds dear; but the dear man Holds honour far more precious dear than life.

Enter Troilus.

How now, young man! Mean’st thou to fight today?

ANDROMACHE. Cassandra, call my father to persuade.

[_Exit_ Cassandra.]

HECTOR. 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. Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy, I’ll stand today for thee and me and Troy.

TROILUS. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you, Which better fits a lion than a man.

HECTOR. What vice is that? Good Troilus, chide me for it.

TROILUS. When many times the captive Grecian falls, Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, You bid them rise and live.

HECTOR. O, ’tis fair play!

TROILUS. Fool’s play, by heaven, Hector.

HECTOR. How now? how now?

TROILUS. For th’ love of all the gods, Let’s leave the hermit Pity with our mother; And when we have our armours buckled on, The venom’d vengeance ride upon our swords, Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth!

HECTOR. Fie, savage, fie!

TROILUS. Hector, then ’tis wars.

HECTOR. Troilus, I would not have you fight today.

TROILUS. Who should withhold me? Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire; Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, Their eyes o’er-galled with recourse of tears; Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn, Oppos’d to hinder me, should stop my way, But by my ruin.

Re-enter Cassandra with Priam.

CASSANDRA. 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.

PRIAM. Come, Hector, come, go back. Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath had visions; Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt To tell thee that this day is ominous. Therefore, come back.

HECTOR. Aeneas is a-field; And I do stand engag’d to many Greeks, Even in the faith of valour, to appear This morning to them.

PRIAM. Ay, but thou shalt not go.

HECTOR. I must not break my faith. You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, Let me not shame respect; but give me leave To take that course by your consent and voice Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam.

CASSANDRA. O Priam, yield not to him!

ANDROMACHE. Do not, dear father.

HECTOR. Andromache, I am offended with you. Upon the love you bear me, get you in.

[_Exit_ Andromache.]

TROILUS. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl Makes all these bodements.

CASSANDRA. O, farewell, dear Hector! Look how thou diest. Look how thy eye turns pale. Look how thy wounds do bleed at many vents. Hark how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out; How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth; Behold distraction, frenzy, and amazement, Like witless antics, one another meet, And all cry, ‘Hector! Hector’s dead! O Hector!’

TROILUS. Away, away!

CASSANDRA. Farewell! yet, soft! Hector, I take my leave. Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive.

[_Exit_.]

HECTOR. You are amaz’d, my liege, at her exclaim. Go in, and cheer the town; we’ll forth, and fight, Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night.

PRIAM. Farewell. The gods with safety stand about thee!

[_Exeunt severally Priam and Hector. Alarums._]

TROILUS. They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe, I come to lose my arm or win my sleeve.

Enter Pandarus.

PANDARUS. Do you hear, my lord? Do you hear?

TROILUS. What now?

PANDARUS. Here’s a letter come from yond poor girl.

TROILUS. Let me read.

PANDARUS. A whoreson tisick, a whoreson rascally tisick, so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing, what another, that I shall leave you one o’ these days; and I have a rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones that unless a man were curs’d I cannot tell what to think on’t. What says she there?

TROILUS. Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart; Th’effect doth operate another way.

[_Tearing the letter_.]

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

[_Exeunt severally_.]

SCENE IV. The plain between Troy and the Grecian camp.

Alarums. Excursions. Enter Thersites.

THERSITES. Now they are clapper-clawing one another; I’ll go look on. That dissembling abominable varlet, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting foolish young knave’s sleeve of Troy there in his helm. I would fain see them meet, that that same young Trojan ass that loves the whore there might send that Greekish whoremasterly villain with the sleeve back to the dissembling luxurious drab of a sleeve-less errand. O’ the other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and that same dog-fox, Ulysses, is not prov’d worth a blackberry. They set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles; and now is the cur, Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm today; whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion.

Enter Diomedes, Troilus following.

Soft! here comes sleeve, and t’other.

TROILUS. Fly not; for shouldst thou take the river Styx, I would swim after.

DIOMEDES. Thou dost miscall retire. I do not fly; but advantageous care Withdrew me from the odds of multitude. Have at thee!

THERSITES. Hold thy whore, Grecian; now for thy whore, Trojan! now the sleeve, now the sleeve!

[_Exeunt Troilus and Diomedes fighting_.]

Enter Hector.