The Same. A Court before PANDARUS' House. |
|
Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA. |
Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn is cold. |
Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down: |
He shall unbolt the gates. |
Tro. Trouble him not; |
To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes, |
And give as soft attachment to thy senses |
As infants' empty of all thought! |
Cres. Good morrow then. |
Tro. I prithee now, to bed. |
Cres. Are you aweary of me? |
Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, |
Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows, |
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, |
I would not from thee. |
Cres. Night hath been too brief. |
Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays |
As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love |
With wings more momentary-swift than thought. |
You will catch cold, and curse me. |
Cres. Prithee, tarry: |
You men will never tarry. |
O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off, |
And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up. |
Pan. [Within.] What! are all the doors open here? |
Tro. It is your uncle. |
Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking: I shall have such a life! |
|
Enter PANDARUS. |
Pan. How now, how now! how go maiden-heads? |
Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid? |
Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle! |
You bring me to do—and then you flout me too. |
Pan. To do what? to do what? let her say what: what have I brought you to do? |
Cres. Come, come; beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good, |
Nor suffer others. |
Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia! hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! |
Cres. Did not I tell you? 'would he were knock'd o' the head! [Knocking within. |
Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see. |
My lord, come you again into my chamber: |
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily. |
Tro. Ha, ha! |
Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing. [Knocking within. |
How earnestly they knock! Pray you, come in: |
I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA. |
Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now! what's the matter? |
|
Enter ĆNEAS. |
Ćne. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. |
Pan. Who's there? my Lord Ćneas! By my troth, |
I knew you not: what news with you so early? |
Ćne. Is not Prince Troilus here? |
Pan. Here! what should he do here? |
Ćne. Come, he is here, my lord: do not deny him: it doth import him much to speak with me. |
Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be sworn: for my own part, I came in late. What should he do here? |
Ćne. Who! nay, then: come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you're 'ware. You'll be so true to him, to be false to him. Do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go. |
|
Re-enter TROILUS. |
Tro. How now! what's the matter? |
Ćne. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, |
My matter is so rash: there is at hand |
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, |
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor |
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith, |
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, |
We must give up to Diomedes' hand |
The Lady Cressida. |
Tro. Is it so concluded? |
Ćne. By Priam, and the general state of Troy: |
They are at hand and ready to effect it. |
Tro. How my achievements mock me! |
I will go meet them: and, my Lord Ćneas, |
We met by chance; you did not find me here. |
Ćne. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature |
Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt TROILUS and ĆNEAS. |
Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad: a plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke 's neck! |
|
Enter CRESSIDA. |
Cres. How now! What is the matter? Who was here? |
Pan. Ah! ah! |
Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord? gone! Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? |
Pan. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above! |
Cres. O the gods! what's the matter? |
Pan. Prithee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne'er been born! I knew thou wouldst be his death. O poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor! |
Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you, what's the matter? |
Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor. Thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus: 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it. |
Cres. O you immortal gods! I will not go. |
Pan. Thou must. |
Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father; |
I know no touch of consanguinity; |
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me |
As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine! |
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood |
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death, |
Do to this body what extremes you can; |
But the strong base and building of my love |
Is as the very centre of the earth, |
Drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep,— |
Pan. Do, do. |
Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks, |
Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart |
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. [Exeunt. |
Design © 1995-2007 ZeFLIP.com All rights reserved.