Internet Shakespeare Editions

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

Troilus and Cressida (Quarto 1, 1609)


Enter Pandarus and Cresseida.
Pan: Be moderate, be moderate.
2390Cress. Why tell you me of moderation?
The greife is fine, full, perfect that I taste,
And violenteth in a sence as strong
As that which causeth it, how can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affections,
2395Or brew it to a weake and coulder pallat,
The like alayment could I giue my griefe:
My loue admittes no qualifiing drosse,
No more my griefe in such a precious losse.
2398.1
Enter Troylus.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes, a sweete ducks.
2400Cres. Oh Troylus, Troylus.
Pan. What a paire of spectacles is here, let me embrace too,
Oh heart, as the goodly saying is, Oh heart, heauy heart,
why sighst thou without breaking: where hee answers a-
gaine, because thou canst not ease thy smart by friendshippe
2405nor by speaking: there was neuer a truer rime. Let vs cast a-
way nothing, for wee may liue to haue need of such a verse,
We see it, we see it, how now lambs?
Troy. Cressid I loue thee in so strain'd a purity,
That the blest Gods as angry with my fancy:
2410More bright in zeale then the deuotion, which
Cold lippes blow to their dieties, take thee from me.
Cres. Haue the Gods enuy?
Pan I, I, I, I, tis to plaine a case.
Cres. And is it true that I must go from Troy?
2415Troy. A hatefull truth.
Cres. What and from Troylus to?
Troy. From Troy, and Troylus.
Cress. Is't possible?
Troy. And suddenly, where iniury of chance
2420Puts back, leaue taking, iussles roughly by:
All time of pause: rudely beguiles our lippes
Of all reioyndure: forcibly preuents
Our lock't embrasures, strangles our dere 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 ourselues:
With the rude breuity, and discharge of one,
Iniurious time now with a robbers hast,
Cram's his ritch theeu'ry vp hee knowes not how.
2430As many farewells as be starres in heauen.
With distinct breath, and consignde kisses to them,
He fumbles vp into a loose adewe:
And skants vs with a single famisht kisse,
Distasted with the salt of broken teares.
2435Æneas within. My Lord is the Lady ready?
Troy. Harke, you are call'd, some say the Genius
Cries so to him that instantly must die,
Bid them haue pacience she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my teares raine to lay this winde, or my
2440heart wilbe blowne vp by my throate.
Cress. I must then to the Grecians.
Troy. No remedy?
Cress. A wofull Cressid 'mongst the merry Greekes,
When shall we see againe.
2445Troy. Here mee loue? be thou but true of heart.
Cres. I true? how now? what wicked deme 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 is no maculation in thy heart:
But bee thou true say I to fashion in,
My sequent protestation, bee thou true, and I will see thee.
2455Cres. Oh you shalbe exposd my Lord to dangers,
As infinite as imminent: but ile be true.
Troy. And ile grow friend with danger, were this sleeue.
Cres. And you this gloue, when shall I see you?
Troy. I will corrupt the Grecian centinells,
To giue thee nightly visitation, but yet be true.
Cres. Oh heauens be true againe?
2465Troy. Here why I speake it loue,
The Grecian youths are full of quality,
And swelling ore with arts and excercise:
How nouelty may moue, and parts with portion,
2470Alas a kinde of Godly iealousie,
(Which I beseech you cal a vertuous sinne,)
Makes me a feard.
Cres. Oh heauens you loue mee not!
Troy. Die I a villaine then,
2475In this I do 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. Do you thinke I will?
Troy. No, but somthing may be done that we will not,
2485And sometimes we are diuells to ourselues:
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changefull potency.
Eneaswithin. Nay good my Lord?
Troy. Come kisse, and let vs part.
2490Pariswithin. Brother Troylus?
Troy. Good brother come you hither?
And bring Eneas and the Grecian with you.
Cres. My Lord will you be true?
Troy. Who I, alas it is my vice, my fault,
2495Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity,
Whilst some with cunning guild their copper crownes,
With truth and plainesse I do were mine bare:
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 shalbe as safe,
As Priam is in Illion?
2510Diom. Faire Ladie Cressid,
So please you saue the thankes this Prince expects:
The lustre in your eye, heauen in your cheeke,
Pleades your faire vsage, and to Diomed,
You shalbe mistres, and command him wholy.
2515Troy. Grecian thou do'st not vse me curteously,
To shame the seale of my petition to thee:
In praising her. I tell thee Lord of Greece,
She is as farre high soaring ore thy praises:
As thou vnworthy to be call'd her seruant,
2520I charge thee vse her well, euen for my charge:
For by the dreadfull Pluto, if thou dost not,
Though the great bulke Achilles be thy guard,
Ile cut thy throate.
Diom. Oh be not mou'd Prince Troylus,
2525Let me be priueledg'd by my place and message:
To be a speaker free? when I am hence,
Ile answer to my lust, and know you Lord
Ile nothing do on charge, to her owne worth,
Shee shalbe priz'd: but that you say be't so,
2530I speake it in my spirit and honour no.
Troy. Come to the port Ile tel 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 needfull talke.
Paris. Harke Hectors trumpet?
Æne. How haue we spent this morning?
The Prince must thinke me tardy and remisse,
That swore to ride before him to the field,
2540Par. Tis Troylus falte, come, come, to field with him. Exeu.