Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me for it. And they'll seem glorious. Ene. I have been seeking you this nour, my lord: Farewell, revolted fair!--and, Diomed, [Exeunt TROILUS, ENEAS, and ULYSSES. Ther. 'Would, I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like a raven; I would bode, I would bode. 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. Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery; nothing else holds fashion: A burning devil take them. [Exit. Hect. Ho! bid my trumpet sound! Tro. For the 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. Hect. Fye, savage, fye! Tro. Hector, then 'tis wars. Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day Tro. Who should withhold me? Nor fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire ; Not Priamus, and Hecuba on knees, Their eyes o'ergalled 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. Cas. 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. Pri. Come, Hector, come, go back: Thy wife hath dream'd; 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. Hect. Eneas is a-field; And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks, Even in the faith of valour, to appear This morning to them. Pri. But thou shalt not go. Hect. I must not break my faith. Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet bro-You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, ther. Hect. Begone, I say: the gods have heard me swear. And. O! be persuaded: Do not count it holy Cas. It is the purpose, that makes strong the vow: Hect. Hold you still, I say; How now, young man? mean'st thou to fight to-day? Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you, Which better fits a lion, than a man. Let me not shame respect; but give me leave And. in. [Exit ANDROMACHE. Tro. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl Makes all these bodements. Cas. 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, destruction, frenzy, and amazement, Like witless antics, one another meet, And all cry-Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector! Tro. Away!-Away! Cas. Farewell.-Yet, soft.-Hector, I take iny leave: Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive [Exit. Hect. 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. Pri Farewell: the gods with safety stand about thee! [Exeunt severally PRIAM and HECTOR. Alaruns. Tro. They are at it; hark! Proud Diomed, believe. I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. Tro. What now? Pan. Here's a letter from yon' poor girl. Pan. A whoreson ptisic, a whoreson rascally ptisic 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 cursed, I cannot tell what to think on't. -What says she there? Tro. Words, words, mere words, no matter froin the heart; [Tearing the letter. The effect doth operate another way.— 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. Between Troy and the Grecian Camp. Alarums: Excursions. Enter THERSITES. Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another; I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable varlet, Diomed, has got that saine 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, on a sleeveless 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 proved 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 to-day; whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion. Soft! here come sleeve, and t' other. Enter DIOMEDES, TROILUS following. Agam. Renew, renew! the fierce Polydamus And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam Enter NESTOR. Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles ; That what he will, he does; and does so much, Enter ULYSSES. Ulyss. O courage, courage, princes! great Achilies Tro Fly not; for, shouldst thou take the river Styx, As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, I would swim after. Thou dost miscall retire. I do not fly; but advantageous care - Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian! now for thy whore, Trojan !-now the sleeve, now the sleeve! [Exeunt TROILUS and DIOMEDES, fighting. Enter HECTOR. Hect. What art thou, Greek, art thou for Hector's Art thou of blood, and honour? [match? Ther. No, no:— I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very filthy rogue. [Exit. Hect. I do believe thee ;-live. Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; But a plague break thy neck, for frighting me. What's become of the wenching rogues? I think, they have swallowed one another: I would laugh at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. I'll [Erit. seek them. SCENE V.-The same. Enter DIOMEDES and a Servant. Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse; Bade him win all. 605 Ther. What art thou? Mar. A bastard son of Priam's. Ther. I am a bastard too: I love bastards: I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us. If the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment: Farewell, bastard. Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [Exeunt. SCENE IX.- Another Part of the Field. Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without, Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons. Achil. 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. Hect. I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek. Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek. [HECTOR falls. So, Ilion, fall thou next; now, Troy, sink down; Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.— On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain. [A retreat sounded. Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part. Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord. Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the And, stickler-like, the armies separate. [earth, My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.[Sheathes his sword. Come, tie his body to my horse's tail: Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt. SCENE XI.--Another Part of the Field. Enter ENEAS and Trojans. Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: Never go home; here starve we out the night. Enter TROILUS. Tro. Hector is slain. Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. There is a word will Priam turn to stone: [coward! [Exeunt ÆNEAS and Trojans. As TROIUS is going out, enter, from the other side, PANDARUS. Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones!— O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a'work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so loathed what verse for it? what instance for it!Let me see : Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting. And being once subdued in armed tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.-Good traders in the flesh, set this'in your painted cloths As many as be here of pander's hall, Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall: Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade, Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. Some two months hence my will shall here be made 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. [Erit. seem to have been the favourites of the writer; they are of the superficial kind, and exhibit more of manners than nature; but they are copiously filled and powerfully impressed. Shakspeare has in his story followed, for the greater part, the old book of Caxton, which was then very popular; but the character of Thersites, of which it makes no mention, is a proof that this play was written after Chapman had published his version of Homer.-JOHNSON. THERE is no edition of this play previous to that of 1623. The, date of its production rests on miere conjecture. Malone supposes it to have been written in 1610, and Mr. Chalmers in 1601, or :602. The subject is from Plutarch's Life of Antony, which Shakspeare might have read in North's trans ation. The passage respecting limon is as follows:-" Antonius forsook the citie and companie of his friends, saying, that he would lead l'imon's life, because he had the like wrong offered him that was offered nato fimon; and for the unthankfulness of those he had done good unto, and whom he tooke to be his friendes, he was angry with all men, and would trust no man.' There is an old MS. play on the same subject, which was for merly in the possession of Mr. Strutt the engraver, and which, according to Steevens, was written or transcribed in 1600. Though evidently the work of a scholar, it is a most wretched production; but as it contains a faithful steward, and a mock banqueting scene, the critics have imagined that Shakspeare must have seen the MS. before he commenced his own work upon the subject. It is perhaps rather unfair, on such uncertain grounds, to accuse Shakspeare as the plagia rist, and acquit the unknown author.-The circumstance of Timon's becoming possessed of great sums of gold is takea from Lucian. It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good. Mer. 'Tis a good form. [Looking at the jewel. Jew. And rich: here is a water, look you. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedicaTo the great lord. [tion Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me, Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the flint Shews not, till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies Each bound it chafes. What have you there? [forth? Pain. A picture, sir.-And when comes your book Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let's see your piece. Pain. "Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. Pain. Indifferent. Poet. Admirable How this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power This eye shoots forth! how big imagination Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret. Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch; Is't good? Poet. I'll say of it, Enter certain Senators, and pass over. Poet. The senators of Athens :-Happy men! Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visi- Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. I'll unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all minds, (As well of glib and slippery creatures, as Of grave and austere quality,) tender down Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself: even he drops down The knee before him, and returns in peace Most rich in Timon's nod. Pain. I saw them speak together. Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o' the mount Is rank'd with all deserts, all kinds of natures, That labour on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states: amongst them all, Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd, One do I personate of lord Timon's frame, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; Whose present grace to present slaves and servants Translates his rivals. Pain. "Tis conceiv'd to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckon'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount To climb his happiness, would be well express'd In our condition. Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on. All those which were his fellows but of late, (Some better than his value,) on the moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrop, and through him Drink the free air. Pain. Ay, marry, what of these? Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood, Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants, Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot. Pain. 'Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can shew, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune I am not of that feather, to shake off Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ransome; And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me :'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after.-Fare you well. Ven. Serv All happiness to your honour! [Exit. Enter an old Athenian. Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. Tim. Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. Enter LUCILIUS. [ture, Luc. Here, at your lordship's service. Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy creaBy night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift; And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd, Than one which holds a trencher. Tim. Well; what further? Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: The maid is fair, o'the youngest for a bride, And I have bred her at my dearest cost, In qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord, Join with me to forbid him her resort; Myself have spoke in vain. Tim. The man is honest. Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon: His honesty rewards him in itself, It must not bear my daughter. Tim. Does she love him? Old Ath. She is young, and apt: Our own precedent passions do ínstruct us What levity's in youth. Tim. [To LUCILIUS.] Love you the maid? |