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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)

    Enter Thersites in excursion.
    Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another, Ile
    goe looke on: that dissembling abhominable varlet Dio-
    3335mede, has got that same scuruie, doting, foolish yong
    knaues Sleeue of Troy, there in his Helme: I would faine
    see them meet; that, that same yong Troian asse, that loues
    the whore there, might send that Greekish whore-mai-
    sterly villaine, with the Sleeue, backe to the dissembling
    3340luxurious drabbe, of a sleeuelesse errant. O'th'tother side,
    the pollicie of those craftie swearing rascals; that stole
    old Mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor: and that same dog-
    foxe Vlisses is not prou'd worth a Black-berry. They set
    me vp in pollicy, that mungrill curre Aiax, against that
    3345dogge of as bad a kinde, Achilles. And now is the curre
    Aiax prouder then the curre Achilles, and will not arme
    to day. Whereupon, the Grecians began to proclaime
    barbarisme; and pollicie growes into an ill opinion.
    Enter Diomed and Troylus.
    3350Soft, here comes Sleeue, and th'other.
    Troy. Flye not: for should'st thou take the Riuer Stix,
    I would swim after.
    Diom. Thou do'st miscall retire:
    I doe not flye; but aduantagious care
    3355Withdrew me from the oddes of multitude:
    Haue at thee?
    Ther. Hold thy whore Grecian: now for thy whore
    Troian: Now the Sleeue, now the Sleeue.
    Euter Hector.
    3360Hect. What art thou Greek? art thou for Hectors match?
    Art thou of bloud, and honour?
    Ther. No, no: I am a rascall: a scuruie railing knaue:
    a very filthy roague.
    Hect. I doe beleeue thee, liue.
    3365Ther. God a mercy, that thou wilt beleeue me; but a
    plague breake thy necke---for frighting me: what's be-
    come of the wenching rogues? I thinke they haue
    swallowed one another. I would laugh at that mira-
    cle----yet in a sort, lecherie eates it selfe: Ile seeke them.
    3370Exit.
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