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AGAMEMNON, the Greek general. HECTOR,

MENELAUS, his brother. TROILUS,

NESTOR, PARIS, his sons.



Greek commanders. HELENUS,

AJAX, MARGARELOX, a bastard son of Priam.


Trojan commanders.

THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Greek. *
Calchas, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks. Servant to Diomedes.
PAXDARUS, uncle to Cressida.
ALEIANDER, servant to Cressida.

HELEN, wife to Menelaus. Servant to Troilus.

ANDROMACHE, wife to Hector. Servant to Paris.

CASSANDRA, daughter to Priam, a prophetess.

CRESSIDA, daughter to Calchas.
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.

SCENE: Troy, and the Greek camp before it.]

IN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of SCENE I. (Troy. Before Priam's palace.)

Enter TROILUS (armed) and PANDARUS.
The princes orgillous, their high blood chaf'd,
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships, Tro. Call here my varlet ; I'll unarm again.
Fraught with the ministers and instruments Why should I war without the walls of
Of cruel war. Sixty and pine, that wore

Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay That find such cruel battle here within ?
Put forth toward Phrygia ; and their vow is Each Troyan at is master of his heart,

Let him to field ; Troilus, alas ! hath none. To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures Pan. Will this gear ne'er be mended ? The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,

Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to With wanton Paris sleeps ; and that's the their strength, quarrel.

Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness To Tenedos they come,

valiant; And the deep-drawing barks do there dis- But I am weaker than a woman's tear, gorge

Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, Their warlike fraughtage. Now on Dardan Less valiant than the virgin in the night, plains

And skilless as unpractis'd infancy. The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch 14 Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this. Their brave pavilions. Priam's six-gated city, For my part, I'll not meddle nor make no furDardan, and Timbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien, ther. He that will have a cake out of the And Antenorides, with massy staples

wheat must needs tarry the grinding. And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts

Tro. Have I not tarried ? Spar up the sons of Troy.

Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry

; Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, the bolting On one and other side, Troyan and Greek,

Tro. Have I not tarried ? Sets all on bazard ; and hither am I come Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry A prologue arm’d, but not in confidence

the leavening. Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited Tro. Still have I tarried. In like conditions as our argument,

Pan. Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet To tell you, fair beholders, that our play in the word “hereafter” the kneading, the Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those making of the cake, the heating of the oven, broils,

and the baking ; nay, you must stay the cooling Beginning in the middle, starting thenee away too, or you may chance to burn your lips. To what may be digested in a play.

Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are, 80

be, Now good or bad ; 't is but the chance of war. 1

Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do.

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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

Pan. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. Tro. I was about to tell thee :- when my

heart, As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain, ss 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 glad

ness, Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sad

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I see her. For my part, I 'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter.

Tro. Pandarus,
Pan. Not I.
Tro. Sweet Pandarus,

Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me. I will leave all as I found it, and there an end.

(Exit Pandarus. Sound alarum. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours ! Peace,

rud 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 stary'd a subject for my sword. But Pandarus, -0 gods, how do you plague

me ! I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar, And he 's as tetchy to be wood 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 wandering flood, 105 Qurself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

Alarum. Enter ÆNEAS. Æne. How now,

Prince Troilus! wherefore not afield? Tro. Because not there. This woman's an

swer sorts, For womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Æneas, from the field today? Æne. That Paris is returned home and burt. Tro. By whom, Æneas ? Æne.

Troilus, by Menelaus. Tro. Let Paris bleed ; 't is but a scar to

scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. (Alarum, 115 Æne. Hark, what good sport is out of town

to-day! Tro. Better at home, if “would I might"

may.' But to the sport abroad. Are you bound

Æne. In all swift haste.
Come, go we then together.

(Exeunt. [SCENE II. The same. A street.] Enter CRESSIDA and her man (ALEXANDER). Cres. Who were those went by ? Alex.

Queen Hecuba and Helen. Cres. And whither go they? Aler.

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 armorer, 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 Pid, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw In Hector's wrath. Cres, What was

cause of anger?

Pan. 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 (45 did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but

Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus, When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie

drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep Thy lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love; thou answer'st she is fair ; Pour'st 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, 65 In whose comparison all whites are ink Writing their own reproach, to whose soft

The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman. This thou
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
The knife that made it.

Pan. I speak no more than truth.
Tro. Thou dost not speak so much.

Pan. Faith, I'll not meddle in 't. Let her be as she is. If she be fair, 't is the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.

Tro. Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus ! 69 Pan. 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. Tro. What, art thou angry,

Pandarus ? What, with me?

Pan. 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 on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a hlack-a-moor ; 't is all one to me. so

Tro. Say I she is not fair ?

Pan. 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

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Aler. The noise goes, this : there is among Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some the Greeks

degrees. A lord of Troyan blood, nephew to Hector; Cres. 'Tis just to each of them ; he is himThey call him Ajax.

self. Cres.

Good; and what of him? Pan. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would Aler. They say he is a very man per se,

he were. And stands alone.

Cres. So he is. Cres. So do all men, unless they are drunk, Pan. Condition, I had gone barefoot to sick, or have no legs.

India. Aler. This man, lady, hath robb'd many Cres. He is not Hector. beasts of their particular additions: he is as (20 Pan. Himself ! No, he's not himself. Would valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow 'a were himself! Well, the gods are above ; as the elephant; a man into whom nature hath time must friend or end. Well, Troilas, well; so crowded humours that his valour is crush'd I would my heart were in her body. No, Hecinto folly, his folly Sauced with discretion. tor is not a better man than Troilus. There is no man bath a virtue that he hath not Cres. Excuse me. a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he [25 Pan. He is elder. carries some stain of it. He is melancholy with- Cres. Pardon me, pardon me. out cause, and merry against the hair. He hath Pan. The other's not come to 't. You the joints of everything, but everything so out shall tell me another tale, when the other's of joint that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands come to 't. Hector shall not have his wit this and no use, or parblind Argus, all eyes and no year. sight.

Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his Cres. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry?

Pan. Nor his qualities. Aler. They say he yesterday cop'd Hector Cres. No matter. in the battle and struck him down, the disdain Pan. Nor his beauty. and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector Cres. "Twould not become him; his own's fasting and waking.

better. Enter PANDARUS.

Pan. You have no judgement, niece. Helen

herself swore the other day, that Troilus, for a Cres. Who comes here?

brown favour -- for so 't is, I must confess, Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.

not brown neither, Cres. Hector 's a gallant man.

Cres. No, but brown. Alex. As may be in the world, lady.

Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not Pan. What's that? What's that?

brown. Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Cres. To say the truth, true and not true. Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What Pan. She prais'd his complexion above do you talk of? Good morrow, Alexander. Paris. How do you, cousin ? When were you at Cres. Why, Paris hath colour enough. Ilium?

Pan. So he has. Cres. This morning, uncle.

Cres. Then Troilus should have too much. Pan. What were you talking of when I If she prais'd him above, his complexion is came? Was Hector arm'd and gone ere ye higher than his. He having colour enough, and came to Ilium ? Helen was not up, was she ? 50 the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a

Cres. Hector was gone, but Helen was not up. good complexion. I had as lief Helen's golden Pan. Even so. Hector was stirring early. tongue had commended Troilus for a copper

Cres. That were we talking of, and of his nose. anger.

Pan. I swear to you, I think Helen loves Pan. Was he angry?

him better than Paris. Cres. So he says here.

Cres. Then she's a merry Greek indeed. 118 Pan. True, he was so. I know the cause Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to

I too. He'll lay about him to-day, I can tell him the other day into the compass'd window, them that; and there's Troilus will not come -- and, you know, he has not past three or far behind him. Let them take heed of four hairs on his chin, Troilus, I can tell them that too.

Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may Cres. What, is he angry too?

soon bring his particulars therein to a total. 124 Pan. Who,' Troilus ? Troilus is the better Pan. Why, he is very young ; and yet will man of the two.

he, within three pound, lift as much as his Cres. O Jupiter ! there's no comparison. brother Hector.

Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hec- Cres. Is he so young a man and so old a tor? Do you know a man if you see him ? lifter?

Cres. Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew Pan. But to prove to you that Helen loves him.

him: she came and puts me her white hand to Pan. Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.

his cloven chin Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, Cres. Juno have mercy! how came it clohe is not Hector.







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Pan. They laugh'd not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.

Cres. What was his answer?


Pan. Quoth she, "Here's but two and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.' Cres. This is her question.




Pan. 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 hus- [177 band?" "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.


Cres. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by.

Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on 't.

Cres. So I do.

Pan. I'll be sworn 't is true; he will weep you, an 't were a man born in April.

[Sound a retreat. Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 't were a nettle against May.


Pan. 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.



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Antenor passes.

Pan. That's Antenor. He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you, and he's a man good enough. He's one o' the soundest judgement 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. Cres. Will he give you the nod ? Pan. You shall see.


Cres. If he do, the rich shall have more.
Hector passes.

Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a fellow! Go thy way, Hec- [218 tor! There's a brave man, niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks! There's a countenance! Is 't not a brave man ?


Cres. O, a brave man!

Pan. 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! 235 Cres. Be those with swords?

Paris passes.

Pan. 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. Look ye yonder, [230 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.


Cres. Who's that?

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Cres. Peace, for shame, peace!

Pan. 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 ne'er saw three and twenty: Go thy way, Troilus, go thy (205 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, 1 warrant, Helen, to change, would give money to boot.

Common Soldiers pass.
Cres. Here come more.

Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die i' 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.

Cres. There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.

Pan. Achilles ! a drayman, a porter, a very camel.

Cres. Well, well.

Pan. “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, gentle- (275 ness, virtue, youth, liberality, and so forth, the spice and salt that season a man?

Cres. Ay, a minc'd man; and then to be bak'd with no date in the pie, for then the man's date 's out.

Pan. You are such another woman! One knows not at what ward you lie.

Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles ; upon my (28,5 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 a thousand watches.

Pan. Say one of your watches.

Cres. 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.

Enter (Troilus's) Boy. Pan, You are such another!

Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.

Pan. Where?

Boy. At your own house ; (there he unarms him.

Pan. Good boy, tell him I come. (Erit Boy.] I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.

Cres. Adieu, uncle.
Pan. I'll be with you, niece, by and by.
Cres. To bring, uncle ?
Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus.
Cres. By the same token, you are a bawd.

Erit Pandarus.

Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacri

fice, He offers in another's enterprise ; But more in Troilus thousandfold 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 : 1"en yrize 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.

(Exeunt. (SCENE III. The Greek camp. Before Aga

memnon's tent.) Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES,

DIOMEDES, MENELAUS, with others. Agam. Princes, What grief hath set the jaundice on 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, Infect the sound pine and divert 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 think them shame? 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. 25 But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, Distinction, with a loud and powerful fan, Puffing at all, winnows the light away ; And what hath mass or matter, by itself Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. Nest. 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









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