Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: W. L. Godshalk
Peer Reviewed

Troilus and Cressida (Quarto 1, 1609)


The history
Cres. Then sweet my Lord ile call mine vnckle downe,
Hee shall vnbolt the gates.
2260Troyl. Trouble him not.
To bed to bed: sleepe kill those pritty eyes,
And giue as soft attachment to thy sences,
As infants empty of all thought.
Cres. Good morrow then.
2265Troyl. I prithee now to bed.
Cres. Are you a weary of me?
Troyl. O Cresseida! but that the busie day,
Wak't by the Larke hath rouzd the ribald Crowes,
And dreaming night will hide our ioyes no longer,
2270I would not from thee.
Cres. Night hath beene too briefe.
Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venemous wights she staies
As tediously as hell, But flies the graspes of loue,
With wings more momentary swift then thought,
2275You will catch colde and curse me.
Cres. Prithee tarry, you men will neuer tarry,
O foolish Cresseid, I might haue still held of,
And then you would haue tarried. Harke ther's one vp.
Pand. Whats all the doorcs open heere?
2280Troyl. It is your Vncle.
Cres. A pestilence on him: now will he be mocking:
I shall haue such a life.
Pand. How now, how now, how go maiden-heads,
Heere you maide, where's my cozin Cresseid?
2285Cres. Go hang your selfe, you naughty mocking vncle,
You bring me to doo---and then you floute me to.
Pand. To do what, to do what? let her say what,
What haue I brought you to doe?
Cres. Come, come, beshrew your heart, youle nere be good,
2290nor suffer others.
Pand. Ha, ha: alas poore wretch: a poore chipochia, hast
not slept tonight? would hee not (a naughty man) let it
sleepe, a bug-beare take him.
Cres. Did not I tell you? would he were knockt ith' head,
2295Who's that at doore, good vnckle go and see.
One knocks.
My