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Troilus and Cressida (Folio 1, 1623)

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: W. L. Godshalk
Peer Reviewed
Enter Pandarus and Cressid.
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
2390Cres. Why tell you me of moderation?
The griefe is fine, full perfect that I taste,
And no lesse in a sense as strong
As that which causeth it. How can I moderate it?
If I could temporise with my affection,
2395Or brew it to a weake and colder pallat,
The like alaiment could I giue my griefe:
My loue admits no qualifying crosse;
Enter Troylus.
No more my griefe, in such a precious losse.
Pan. Here, here, here, he comes, a sweet ducke.
2400Cres. O Troylus, Troylus!
Pan. What a paire of spectacles is here? let me em-
brace too: oh hart, as the goodly saying is; O heart, hea-
uie heart, why sighest thou without breaking? where he
answers againe; because thou canst not ease thy smart by
2405friendship, nor by speaking: there was neuer a truer rime;
let vs cast away nothing, for we may liue to haue neede
of such a Verse: we see it, we see it: how now Lambs?
Troy. Cressid: I loue thee in so strange a puritie;
That the blest gods, as angry with my fancie,
2410More bright in zeale, then the deuotion which
Cold lips blow to their Deities: take thee from me.
Cres. Haue the gods enuie?
Pan. I, I, I, I, 'tis too plaine a case.
Cres. And is it true, that I must goe from Troy?
2415Troy. A hatefull truth.
Cres. What, and from Troylus too?
Troy. From Troy, and Troylus.
Cres. Ist possible?
Troy. And sodainely, where iniurie of chance
2420Puts backe leaue-taking, iustles roughly by
All time of pause; rudely beguiles our lips
Of all reioyndure: forcibly preuents
Our lockt embrasures; strangles our deare vowes,
Euen in the birth of our owne laboring breath.
2425We two, that with so many thousand sighes
Did buy each other, must poorely sell our selues,
With the rude breuitie and discharge of our
Iniurious time; now with a robbers haste
Crams his rich theeuerie vp, he knowes not how.
2430As many farwels as be stars in heauen,
With distinct breath, and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles vp into a loose adiew;
And scants vs with a single famisht kisse,
Distasting with the salt of broken teares.
Enter Æneus.
2435Æneas within. My Lord, is the Lady ready?
Troy. Harke, you are call'd: some say the genius so
Cries, come to him that instantly must dye.
Bid them haue patience: she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my teares? raine, to lay this winde,
2440or my heart will be blowne vp by the root.
Cres. I must then to the Grecians?
Troy. No remedy.
Cres. A wofull Cressid 'mong'st the merry Greekes.
Troy. When shall we see againe?
2445Troy. Here me my loue: be thou but true of heart.
Cres. I true? how now? what wicked deeme is this?
Troy. Nay, we must vse expostulation kindely,
For it is parting from vs:
I speake not, be thou true, as fearing thee:
2450For I will throw my Gloue to death himselfe,
That there's no maculation in thy heart:
But be thou true, say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation: be thou true,
And I will see thee.
2455Cres. O you shall be expos'd, my Lord to dangers
As infinite, as imminent: but Ile be true.
Troy. And Ile grow friend with danger;
Weare this Sleeue.
Cres. And you this Gloue.
2460When shall I see you?
Troy. I will corrupt the Grecian Centinels,
To giue thee nightly visitation.
But yet be true.
Cres. O heauens: be true againe?
2465Troy. Heare why I speake it; Loue:
The Grecian youths are full of qualitie,
Their louing well compos'd, with guift of nature,
Flawing and swelling ore with Arts and exercise:
How nouelties may moue, and parts with person.
2470Alas, a kinde of godly iealousie;
Which I beseech you call a vertuous sinne:
Makes me affraid.
Cres. O heauens, you loue me not!
Troy. Dye I a villaine then:
2475In this I doe not call your faith in question
So mainely as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heele the high Lauolt; nor sweeten talke;
Nor play at subtill games; faire vertues all;
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:
2480But I can tell that in each grace of these,
There lurkes a still and dumb-discoursiue diuell,
That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.
Cres. Doe you thinke I will:
Troy. No, but something may be done that we wil not:
2485And sometimes we are diuels to our selues,
When we will tempt the frailtie of our powers,
Presuming on their changefull potencie.
Æneas within. Nay, good my Lord?
Troy. Come kisse, and let vs part.
2490Paris within. Brother Troylus?
Troy. Good brother come you hither,
And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you.
Cres. My Lord, will you be true?
Exit.
Troy. Who I? alas it is my vice, my fault:
2495Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
I, with great truth, catch meere simplicitie;
Whil'st some with cunning guild their copper crownes,
With truth and plainnesse I doe weare mine bare:
Enter the Greekes.
2500Feare not my truth; the morrall of my wit
Is plaine and true, ther's all the reach of it.
Welcome sir Diomed, here is the Lady
Which for Antenor, we deliuer you.
At the port (Lord) Ile giue her to thy hand,
2505And by the way possesse thee what she is.
Entreate her faire; and by my soule, faire Greeke,
If ere thou stand at mercy of my Sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Illion?
2510Diom. Faire Lady Cressid,
So please you saue the thankes this Prince expects:
The lustre in your eye, heauen in your cheeke,
Pleades your faire visage, and to Diomed
You shall be mistresse, and command him wholly.
2515Troy. Grecian, thou do'st not vse me curteously,
To shame the seale of my petition towards,
I praising her. I tell thee Lord of Greece:
Shee is as farre high soaring o're thy praises,
As thou vnworthy to be cal'd her seruant:
2520I charge thee vse her well, euen for my charge:
For by the dreadfull Pluto, if thou do'st not,
(Though the great bulke Achilles be thy guard)
Ile cut thy throate.
Diom. Oh be not mou'd Prince Troylus;
2525Let me be priuiledg'd by my place and message,
To be a speaker free? when I am hence,
Ile answer to my lust: and know my Lord;
Ile nothing doe on charge: to her owne worth
She shall be priz'd: but that you say, be't so;
2530Ile speake it in my spirit and honor, no.
Troy. Come to the Port. Ile tell thee Diomed,
This braue, shall oft make thee to hide thy head:
Lady, giue me your hand, and as we walke,
To our owne selues bend we our needefull talke.
2535
Sound Trumpet.
Par. Harke, Hectors Trumpet.
Æne. How haue we spent this morning
The Prince must thinke me tardy and remisse,
That swore to ride before him in the field.
2540Par. 'Tis Troylus fault: come, come, to field with him.
Exeunt.
Dio. Let vs make ready straight.
Æne. Yea, with a Bridegroomes fresh alacritie
Let vs addresse to tend on Hectors heeles:
2545The glory of our Troy doth this day lye
On his faire worth, and single Chiualrie.