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  • Title: Troilus and Cressida (Quarto 1, 1609)
  • 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 (Quarto 1, 1609)

    of Troylus and Cresseida.
    Vliss. Not for the worth that hangs vpon our quarrell.
    1415Aiax. A paltry insolent fellow.
    Nest. How he describes him selfe.
    Aiax. Can he not be sociable.
    Uliss. The Rauen chides blacknesse.
    Aiax. Ile tell his humorous bloud.
    1420Agam. Hee wil be the phisition, that should bee the paci-
    Aiax. And all men were of my minde.
    Vliss. Wit would bee out of fashion.
    Aiax: A should not beare it so, a should eate swords first?
    1425shall pride carry it?
    Nest. And two'od yow'd carry halfe.
    Aiax. A would haue ten shares. I will kneade him, Ile
    make him supple, he's not yet through warme?
    1430Nest. Force him with praiers poure in, poure, his ambition
    is drie.
    Vliss. My Lord you feed to much on this dislike.
    Nest. Our noble generall do not do so?
    Diom. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
    1435Vliss: Why tis this naming of him do's him harme,
    Here is a man but tis before his face, I wil be silent.
    Nest. Wherefore should you so?
    He is not emulous as Achilles is.
    1440Vliss. Know the whole world hee is as valiant-------------
    Aiax. A hoarson dog that shall palter with vs thus, would
    he were a Troyan?
    Nest. What a vice were it in Aiax now:
    Vliss: If hee were proude.
    1445Diom. Or couetous of praise.
    Vliss. I or surly borne.
    Diom. Or strange or selfe affected.
    Vliss: Thank the heauens Lord, thou art of sweet composure
    Praise him that gat thee, shee that gaue thee suck:
    1450Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature,
    Thrice fam'd beyond all thy erudition:
    But hee that disciplind thine armes to fight,
    Let Mars diuide eternity in twaine,
    And giue him halfe, and for thy vigour: