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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.
    Enter Hector and Andromache.
    And. When was my Lord so much vngently temperd,
    To stop his eares against admonishment:
    3200Vnarme, vnarme, and do not fight to day.
    Hect. You traine me to offend you, get you in,
    By all the euerlasting gods Ile go.
    And. My dreames will sure prooue ominous to the day.
    Hect. No more I say.
    3204.1Enter Cassandra.
    3205Cas. Where is my brothet Hector?
    And, Here sister, arm'd and bloody in intenr,
    Consort with me in lowd and deere petition,
    Pursue we him on knees: for I haue dreamt
    Of bloudy turbulence, and this whole night
    3210Hath nothing beene but shapes and formes of slaughter.
    Cass, O tis true.
    Hect. Ho? bid my trumpet sound.
    Cres. No notes of sallie for the heauens sweete brother.
    Hect. Begon I say, the gods haue heard me sweare.
    3215Cas. The gods are deafe to hotte and peeuish vowes,
    They are polluted offrings more abhord,
    Then spotted liuers in the sacrifice.
    And. O be perswaded, do not count it holy,
    It is the purpose that makes strong the vow,
    But vowes to euery purpose must not hold:
    Vnarme sweet Hector.
    3225Hect, Hold you still I say,
    Mine honor keepes the weather of my fate:
    Life euery man holds deere but the deere man,
    Holds honor farre more precious deere then life,
    Enter Troylus.
    3230How now yong man, meanest thou to fight to day.
    And. Cassandra call my father to perswade.Exit Cassan.
    Hect. No faith yong Troylus, doffe thy harnesse youth,
    I am to day ith' vaine of chiualrie,
    3235Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
    And tempt not yet the brushes of the warre.
    Vnarme thee go, and doubt thou not braue boy,
    L Ile