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  • Title: Troilus and Cressida (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: William Godshalk
  • ISBN: 1-55058-301-8

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: William Godshalk
    Peer Reviewed

    Troilus and Cressida (Folio 1, 1623)

    Troylus and Cressida.
    Pan. You spie, what doe you spie: come, giue me an
    Instrument now sweete Queene.
    1570Hel. Why this is kindely done?
    Pan. My Neece is horrible in loue with a thing you
    haue sweete Queene.
    Hel. She shall haue it my Lord, if it be not my Lord
    1575Pand. Hee? no, sheele none of him, they two are
    Hel. Falling in after falling out, may make them three.
    Pan. Come, come, Ile heare no more of this, Ile sing
    you a song now.
    1580Hel. I, I, prethee now: by my troth sweet Lord thou
    hast a fine fore-head.
    Pan. I you may, you may.
    Hel. Let thy song be loue: this loue will vndoe vs al.
    Oh Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.
    1585Pan. Loue? I that it shall yfaith.
    Par. I, good now loue, loue, no thing but loue.
    Pan. In good troth it begins so.

    Loue, loue, no thing but loue, still more:
    For O loues Bow,
    1590Shootes Bucke and Doe:
    The Shaft confounds not that it wounds,
    But tickles still the sore:
    These Louers cry, oh ho they dye;
    Yet that which seemes the wound to kill,
    1595Doth turne oh ho, to ha ha he:
    So dying loue liues still,
    O ho a while, but ha ha ha,
    O ho grones out for ha ha ha----hey ho.

    Hel. In loue yfaith to the very tip of the nose.
    1600Par. He eates nothing but doues loue, and that breeds
    hot bloud, and hot bloud begets hot thoughts, and hot
    thoughts beget hot deedes, and hot deedes is loue.
    Pan. Is this the generation of loue? Hot bloud, hot
    thoughts, and hot deedes, why they are Vipers, is Loue a
    1605generation of Vipers?
    Sweete Lord whose a field to day?
    Par. Hector, Deiphœbus, Helenus, Anthenor, and all the
    gallantry of Troy. I would faine haue arm'd to day, but
    my Nell would not haue it so.
    1610How chance my brother Troylus went not?
    Hel. He hangs the lippe at something; you know all
    Lord Pandarus?
    Pan. Not I hony sweete Queene: I long to heare how
    they sped to day:
    1615Youle remember your brothers excuse?
    Par. To a hayre.
    Pan. Farewell sweete Queene.
    Hel. Commend me to your Neece.
    Pan. I will sweete Queene.
    Sound a retreat.
    1620Par. They're come from fielde: let vs to Priams Hall
    To greete the Warriers. Sweet Hellen, I must woe you,
    To helpe vnarme our Hector: his stubborne Buckles,
    With these your white enchanting fingers toucht,
    Shall more obey then to the edge of Steele,
    1625Or force of Greekish sinewes: you shall doe more
    Then all the Iland Kings, disarme great Hector.
    Hel. 'Twill make vs proud to be his seruant Paris:
    Yea what he shall receiue of vs in duetie,
    Giues vs more palme in beautie then we haue:
    1630Yea ouershines our selfe.
    Sweete aboue thought I loue thee.
    Enter Pandarus and Troylus Man.
    Pan. How now, where's thy Maister, at my Couzen
    1635Man. No sir, he stayes for you to conduct him thither.
    Enter Troylus.
    Pan. O here he comes: How now, how now?
    Troy. Sirra walke off.
    Pan. Haue you seene my Cousin?
    1640Troy. No Pandarus: I stalke about her doore
    Like a strange soule vpon the Stigian bankes
    Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon,
    And giue me swift transportance to those fields,
    Where I may wallow in the Lilly beds
    1645Propos'd for the deseruer. O gentle Pandarus,
    From Cupids shoulder plucke his painted wings,
    And flye with me to Cressid.
    Pan. Walke here ith'Orchard, Ile bring her straight.
    Exit Pandarus.
    1650Troy. I am giddy; expectation whirles me round,
    Th'imaginary relish is so sweete,
    That it inchants my sence: what will it be
    When that the watry pallats taste indeede
    Loues thrice reputed Nectar? Death I feare me
    1655Sounding distruction, or some ioy too fine,
    Too subtile, potent, and too sharpe in sweetnesse,
    For the capacitie of my ruder powers;
    I feare it much, and I doe feare besides,
    That I shall loose distinction in my ioyes,
    1660As doth a battaile, when they charge on heapes
    The enemy flying.
    Enter Pandarus.
    Pan. Shee's making her ready, sheele come straight; you
    must be witty now, she does so blush, & fetches her winde
    so short, as if she were fraid with a sprite: Ile fetch her; it
    1665is the prettiest villaine, she fetches her breath so short as a
    new tane Sparrow.
    Exit Pand.
    Troy. Euen such a passion doth imbrace my bosome:
    My heart beates thicker then a feauorous pulse,
    And all my powers doe their bestowing loose,
    1670Like vassalage at vnawares encountring
    The eye of Maiestie.
    Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
    Pan. Come, come, what neede you blush?
    Shames a babie; here she is now, sweare the oathes now
    1675to her, that you haue sworne to me. What are you gone a-
    gaine, you must be watcht ere you be made tame, must
    you? come your wayes, come your wayes, and you draw
    backward weele put you i'th fils: why doe you not speak
    to her? Come draw this curtaine, & let's see your picture.
    1680Alasse the day, how loath you are to offend day light? and
    'twere darke you'ld close sooner: So, so, rub on, and kisse
    the mistresse; how now, a kisse in fee-farme? build there
    Carpenter, the ayre is sweete. Nay, you shall fight your
    hearts out ere I part you. The Faulcon, as the Tercell, for
    1685all the Ducks ith Riuer: go too, go too.
    Troy. You haue bereft me of all words Lady.
    Pan. Words pay no debts; giue her deedes: but sheele
    bereaue you 'oth' deeds too, if shee call your actiuity in
    question: what billing againe? here's in witnesse where-
    1690of the Parties interchangeably. Come in, come in, Ile go
    get a fire?
    Cres. Will you walke in my Lord?
    Troy. O Cressida, how often haue I wisht me thus?
    Cres. Wisht my Lord? the gods grant? O my Lord.
    1695Troy. What should they grant? what makes this pret-
    ty abruption: what too curious dreg espies my sweete La-
    dy in the fountaine of our loue?
    Cres. More