The Same. A Room in PANDARUS' House. |
|
Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA. |
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate. |
Cres. Why tell you me of moderation? |
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, |
And violenteth in a sense as strong |
As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it? |
If I could temporize with my affection, |
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, |
The like allayment could I give my grief: |
My love admits no qualifying dross; |
No more my grief, in such a precious loss. |
|
Enter TROILUS. |
Pan. Here, here, here he comes. Ah! sweet ducks. |
Cres. [Embracing him.] O Troilus! Troilus! |
Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too. 'O heart,' as the goodly saying is,— | O heart, heavy heart, |
| Why sigh'st thou without breaking? |
|
when he answers again, | Because thou canst not ease thy smart |
| By friendship nor by speaking. |
|
There was never a truer rime. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse: we see it, we see it. How now, lambs! |
Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity, |
That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy, |
More bright in zeal than the devotion which |
Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me. |
Cres. Have the gods envy? |
Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case. |
Cres. And is it true that I must go from Troy? |
Tro. A hateful truth. |
Cres. What! and from Troilus too? |
Tro. From Troy and Troilus. |
Cres. Is it possible? |
Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance |
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by |
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips |
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents |
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows |
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath. |
We two, that with so many thousand sighs |
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves |
With the rude brevity and discharge of one. |
Injurious time now with a robber's haste |
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: |
As many farewells as be stars in heaven, |
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them, |
He fumbles up into a loose adieu, |
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, |
Distasted with the salt of broken tears. |
Ćne. [Within.] My lord, is the lady ready? |
Tro. Hark! you are call'd: some say the Genius so |
Cries 'Come!' to him that instantly must die. |
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon. |
Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root! [Exit. |
Cres. I must then to the Grecians? |
Tro. No remedy. |
Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! |
When shall we see again? |
Tro. Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart,— |
Cres. I true! how now! what wicked deem is this? |
Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, |
For it is parting from us: |
I speak not 'be thou true,' as fearing thee, |
For I will throw my glove to Death himself, |
That there's no maculation in thy heart; |
But, 'be thou true,' say I, to fashion in |
My sequent protestation; be thou true, |
And I will see thee. |
Cres. O! you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers |
As infinite as imminent; but I'll be true. |
Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve. |
Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you? |
Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, |
To give thee nightly visitation. |
But yet, be true. |
Cres. O heavens! 'be true' again! |
Tro. Hear why I speak it, love: |
The Grecian youths are full of quality; |
They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature, |
Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise: |
How novelty may move, and parts with person, |
Alas! a kind of godly jealousy,— |
Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,— |
Makes me afear'd. |
Cres. O heavens! you love me not. |
Tro. Die I a villain, then! |
In this I do not call your faith in question |
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing, |
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, |
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all, |
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant: |
But I can tell that in each grace of these |
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil |
That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted. |
Cres. Do you think I will? |
Tro. No. |
But something may be done that we will not: |
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves |
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, |
Presuming on their changeful potency. |
Ćne. [Within.] Nay, good my lord,— |
Tro. Come, kiss; and let us part. |
Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus! |
Tro. Good brother, come you hither; |
And bring Ćneas and the Grecian with you. |
Cres. My lord, will you be true? |
Tro. Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault: |
While others fish with craft for great opinion, |
I with great truth catch mere simplicity; |
Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, |
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. |
Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit |
Is plain, and true; there's all the reach of it. |
|
Enter ĆNEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, and DIOMEDES. |
Welcome, Sir Diomed! Here is the lady |
Which for Antenor we deliver you: |
At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand, |
And by the way possess thee what she is. |
Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, |
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword, |
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe |
As Priam is in Ilion. |
Dio. Fair Lady Cressid, |
So please you, save the thanks this prince expects: |
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, |
Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed |
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly. |
Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously, |
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee |
In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece, |
She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises |
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. |
I charge thee use her well, even for my charge; |
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, |
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, |
I'll cut thy throat. |
Dio. O! be not mov'd, Prince Troilus: |
Let me be privileg'd by my place and message |
To be a speaker free; when I am hence, |
I'll answer to my lust; and know you, lord, |
I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth |
She shall be priz'd; but that you say 'be't so,' |
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour, 'no.' |
Tro. Come, to the port. I'll tell thee, Diomed, |
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. |
Lady, give me your hand, and, as you walk, |
To our own selves bend we our needful talk. [Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMEDES. Trumpet sounded. |
Par. Hark! Hector's trumpet. |
Ćne. How have we spent this morning! |
The prince must think me tardy and remiss, |
That swore to ride before him to the field. |
Par. 'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, come, to field with him. |
Dei. Let us make ready straight. |
Ćne. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity, |
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels: |
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie |
On his fair worth and single chivalry. [Exeunt. |
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