Troilus and Cressida by William Shakespeare
Act 1 - Scene 1
Troy. Before Priam’s palace.
Troilus : Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again:
[p]Why should I war without the
walls of Troy,
[p]That find such cruel battle here within?
[p]Each
Trojan that is master of his heart,
[p]Let him to field; Troilus,
alas! hath none.
Pandarus : Will this gear ne'er be mended?
Troilus : The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength,
[p]Fierce to
their skill and to their fierceness valiant;
[p]But I am weaker than a
woman's tear,
[p]Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
[p]Less
valiant than the virgin in the night
[p]And skilless as unpractised
infancy.
Pandarus : Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part,
[p]I'll not meddle
nor make no further. He that will
[p]have a cake out of the wheat must
needs tarry the grinding.
Troilus : Have I not tarried?
Pandarus : Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry
[p]the bolting.
Troilus : Have I not tarried?
Pandarus : Ay, the bolting, but you must tarry the leavening.
Troilus : Still have I tarried.
Pandarus : Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word
[p]'hereafter' the
kneading, the making of the cake, the
[p]heating of the oven and the
baking; nay, you must
[p]stay the cooling too, or you may chance to
burn your lips.
Troilus : Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
[p]Doth lesser blench at
sufferance than I do.
[p]At Priam's royal table do I sit;
[p]And when
fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,--
[p]So, traitor! 'When she
comes!' When is she thence?
Pandarus : Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw
[p]her look, or
any woman else.
Troilus : I was about to tell thee:--when my heart,
[p]As wedged with a sigh,
would rive in twain,
[p]Lest Hector or my father should perceive
me,
[p]I have, as when the sun doth light a storm,
[p]Buried this sigh
in wrinkle of a smile:
[p]But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming
gladness,
[p]Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
Pandarus : An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's--
[p]well, go
to--there were no more comparison between
[p]the women: but, for my
part, she is my kinswoman; I
[p]would not, as they term it, praise
her: but I would
[p]somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did.
I
[p]will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but--
Troilus : O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,--
[p]When I do tell thee, there my
hopes lie drown'd,
[p]Reply not in how many fathoms deep
[p]They lie
indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad
[p]In Cressid's love: thou answer'st
'she is fair;'
[p]Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
[p]Her eyes,
her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice,
[p]Handlest in thy
discourse, O, that her hand,
[p]In whose comparison all whites are
ink,
[p]Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure
[p]The
cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense
[p]Hard as the palm of
ploughman: this thou tell'st me,
[p]As true thou tell'st me, when I
say I love her;
[p]But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
[p]Thou
lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
[p]The knife that made
it.
Pandarus : I speak no more than truth.
Troilus : Thou dost not speak so much.
Pandarus : Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is:
[p]if she be fair,
'tis the better for her; an she be
[p]not, she has the mends in her
own hands.
Troilus : Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus!
Pandarus : I have had my labour for my travail; ill-thought on of
[p]her and
ill-thought on of you; gone between and
[p]between, but small thanks
for my labour.
Troilus : What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?
Pandarus : Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair
[p]as Helen: an
she were not kin to me, she would be as
[p]fair on Friday as Helen is
on Sunday. But what care
[p]I? I care not an she were a black-a-moor;
'tis all one to me.
Troilus : Say I she is not fair?
Pandarus : I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to
[p]stay behind her
father; let her to the Greeks; and so
[p]I'll tell her the next time I
see her: for my part,
[p]I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter.
Troilus : Pandarus,--
Pandarus : Not I.
Troilus : Sweet Pandarus,--
Pandarus : Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I
[p]found it, and
there an end.
Troilus : Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds!
[p]Fools on both
sides! Helen must needs be fair,
[p]When with your blood you daily
paint her thus.
[p]I cannot fight upon this argument;
[p]It is too
starved a subject for my sword.
[p]But Pandarus,--O gods, how do you
plague me!
[p]I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar;
[p]And he's as
tetchy to be woo'd to woo.
[p]As she is stubborn-chaste against all
suit.
[p]Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
[p]What Cressid is,
what Pandar, and what we?
[p]Her bed is India; there she lies, a
pearl:
[p]Between our Ilium and where she resides,
[p]Let it be call'd
the wild and wandering flood,
[p]Ourself the merchant, and this
sailing Pandar
[p]Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark.
Aeneas : How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore not afield?
Troilus : Because not there: this woman's answer sorts,
[p]For womanish it is to
be from thence.
[p]What news, AEneas, from the field to-day?
Aeneas : That Paris is returned home and hurt.
Troilus : By whom, AEneas?
Aeneas : Troilus, by Menelaus.
Troilus : Let Paris bleed; 'tis but a scar to scorn;
[p]Paris is gored with
Menelaus' horn.
Aeneas : Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day!
Troilus : Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.'
[p]But to the sport
abroad: are you bound thither?
Aeneas : In all swift haste.
Troilus : Come, go we then together.
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