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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.
    Tell you the Lady what she is to doe,
    And hast her to the purpose.
    2380Troy. Walke into her house,
    Ile bring her to the Grecian presently:
    And to his hand when I deliuer her,
    Thinke it an altar, and thy brother Troylus
    A priest there offring to it his owne heart.
    2385Paris. I know what tis to loue,
    And would, as I shall pitty I could helpe:
    Please you walke in my Lords? Exeunt.
    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.
    2398.1Enter 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?
    H3 Troy.