Classic Audiobook Collection - Troilus and Cressida by William Shakespeare ~ Full Audiobook [tragedy]

Episode Date: May 6, 2025

Troilus and Cressida by William Shakespeare audiobook. Genre: tragedy Set against the brutal stalemate of the Trojan War, Troilus and Cressida follows two young lovers trying to carve out something tender inside a world ruled by pride, politics, and violence. Troilus, a Trojan prince, falls hard for Cressida, whose wit and practicality match his idealism. With the help of the plainspoken go-between Pandarus, their secret courtship ignites, promising a private refuge from the clamor of armies and the posturing of heroes. But the war presses in from every side: on the Greek shores, commanders like Agamemnon, Ulysses, and Achilles maneuver for status and control, while the fierce Ajax and the sharp-tongued Thersites expose the vanity beneath grand speeches. When a sudden political exchange forces Cressida into the enemy camp, love becomes a test of loyalty, reputation, and survival. Shakespeare blends romance with biting satire, asking what honor is worth when it is performed for an audience, and what becomes of desire when it is treated as a bargaining chip. The result is a darkly funny, unsettling portrait of war, ambition, and the fragile promises people make to one another. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 1 (00:46:09) Chapter 2 (01:20:19) Chapter 3 (01:57:08) Chapter 4 (02:34:15) Chapter 5 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Troilus and Cressida by William Shakespeare. Prologue. In Troy, there lies the scene. From Isles of Greece, the princes Orgulus, their high blood-shaped, have, to the port of Athens, sent their ships, fraught with the ministers and instruments of cruel war. Sixty and nine that wore their crown its regal, from the Athenian Bay, put forth towards Fridia,

and their vow is made to ransack Troy, within whose strong immures the ravished Helen, Menelaus Queen, with wanton Paris sleeps. And that's the quarrel. To Tenedos they come, and the deep-drawing barks do their disgorge their warlike fraughtage. Now on Darden plains the fresh, and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch their brave pavilions. Priam's six-gated city, Darden and Timbria, Helius, Chitas, Trojan, and Antinorides, with massy staples and correspondive and fulfilling bolts, spare up the sons of Troy. Now, expectation, tickling skittish spirits, on one and other side Trojan and Greek, sets all on hazard, and hither am I come, a prologue, but not in confidence, of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited in like conditions as our argument, to tell you,

fair beholders, that our play leaps all the vaunt and firstlings of those broils, beginning in the middle, starting thence away to what may be digested in a play. Like, or find a fault, do as your pleasures are, now, good or bad, tears but the chance of war. Scene 1. Troy. Before Priam's palace. Enter Troilus, armed, and pandarus. Call here, my varlet, I'll unarm again. Why should I war without the walls of Troy that find such cruel battle here within? Each Trojan that is master of his heart let him to field.

Troilus, alas, hath none. Will this gear ne'er be mended? The Greeks are strong, and skillful to their strength, fierce to their skill and to their fierceness, valiant. But I am weaker than a woman's tear, tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, less valiant than the virgin in the night, and skillless is unpracticed infancy. Well, I have told you enough of this. For my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must needs tear. the grinding. Have I not tarried? I the grinding, but you must tarry the bolting.

Have I not tarried? I the bolting, but you must tarry the leavening. Still have I tarried. I, to the leavening, but here's yet in the word, hereafter the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking. Nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips. Patience herself! What goddess e'er she be!

lesser blanchet sufferance than I do. At Priam's royal table do I sit. And when fair Crescid comes into my thoughts, so, traitor, when she comes, when is she thence?

Well, she looked yesterday night fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. I was about to tell me, when my heart, as wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain lest Hector or my father should perceive me.

I have, as when the sun doth light a scorn, buried this sigh in a wrinkle of a smile. But sorrow that is couched in seeming gladness, is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. And her hair were not somewhat darker than Helens. We'll go too. There were no more comparison between the women, but for my part, she is my kinswoman.

i would not as they term it praise her but i would somebody had heard her talk yesterday as i did i will not dis praise your sister cassandra's wit but- oh pandarus tell thee pandarus when i do tell thee there my hopes lie drowned reply not in how many fathoms deep they lie indrenched i tell thee i am mad in crescent's love thou answer she is fair, pourst in the open ulcer of my heart, her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, handless in thy discourse, oh, that her hand, in whose comparison all whites are ink, writing their own reproach to whose soft seizure the signet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense hard as the palm of ploughman, this thou tell'st me, as true thou tellst me,

when I say I love her. But saying thus, instead of oil and balm, thou layest in every gash that love hath given me the knife that made it. I speak no more than truth. That does not speak so much. Faith, I'll not meddle it. Let her be as she is. If she be fair, tis the better for her.

and she be not she has the men's in her own hands. Oh, good, pandarus, how now, pandarus! I have had my labor for my travail. Ill thought on of her and ill thought on of you, gone between and between, but small thanks for my labor. What, aren't you angry, pandarus? What, with me? Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen, and she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I?

I care for not and she were a blackamore. Tis all one to me. Say I, she is not fair. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father. Let her to the Greeks. And so I'll tell her the next time I see her. For my part, I'll meddle nor make no more the matter.

Panderus. Not I. Sweet, pandarus. Pray you, speak no more to me. I will leave all as I found it. And there's an end. Exit Panderus, an alarum. Peace, you ungracious clamors!

Peace, rude sounds. Fools, on both sides. Helen must needs be fair when with your blood you daily painter thus. I cannot fight upon this argument. It is too starved a subject for my sword. But Panderas! Oh, God's how you do plague me.

I cannot come to Crescent but by Pander. Danty's as tetchy to be wooed to Wu, as she is stubborn chased against all suit. Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, what Crescent is, what Pander, and what we. Her bed is India. There she lies. A pearl.

Between our ileum and where she resides, let it be called the wild and wandering flood. Ourself, the merchant, and this sailing pander, our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark. Alarum. Enter Aeneas. How now, Prince Troilus?

Wherefore not a field? Because not there. This woman's answer sorts for womanish it is to be from men's. What news, Ineus, from the field today? That Paris has returned home, And hurt? By whom, Aeneas? Troilus, by Menelaus.

Let Paris bleed. Just but a scar to scorn. Paris is gourd with Menelaus horn. Alarum. How quite good sport is out of town today. Better at home, if what I might or may. But to the sport abroad, are you bound thither? In all swift haste.

Come, go with them together. Excient. Scene two The same A street Enter Cressida and Alexander Who were those went by?

Queen Hecuba and Helen And whither go they Up to the eastern tower Whose height commands as subject All the Vale to see the battle Hector, whose patience is, as a virtue, Fixed, today was moved He chide Andromicke

and struck his armourer And, like as there were in war, before the sun rose he was harnessed light, and to the field goes he, where every flower did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw in Hector's wrath. What was his cause of anger? The noise goes, this. There was among the Greeks a lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector. They call him Ajax.

Good. And what of him? They say that he is a very man, per se, and stands alone. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions. He is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant, a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crushed into folly. His folly sauced with discretion.

There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man and a taint, but he carries some stain of it. He is melancholy without cause, and merry against the hair. He hath the joints of everything, but everything so out of joint that he is a gouty briars, many hands and no use, or purblind argus, all eyes and no sight. But how should this man that makes me smile make Hector angry? They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle,

and struck him down. The disdain and shame were of hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. Who comes here? Madame, your Uncle Pandarus. Enter Pandarus. Hector's a gallant man. As may be in the world, lady.

What's that? What's that? Good-morrow, Uncle Pandarus. Good-morrow, Cousin, what do you talk of? Good-morrow, Alexander. How did you, cousin? When were you at Iliam? This morning, Uncle. "'What were you talking of when I came? "'Was Hector armed and gone ere you came to Iliam?

"'Helen was not up, was she?' "'Hector was gone, but Helen was not up.' "'Even so, Hector was stirring early. "'That were we talking of, and of his anger.' "'Was he angry?' "'So he says here.' "'True, he was so. I know the cause, too. "'He'll lay about him to-day.

"'I can tell him that. "'And there's Troilus will not come far behind him. "'Let them take heed of Troilus. "'I can tell them that. too. What is he angry too? Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two. Oh, Jupiter, there's no comparison. What? Not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him? I, if I ever saw him before and knew him. Well, I say Troilus is troilus. Then you say as I say, for I am sure he is not Hector.

No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees. Tis just to each of them. He is himself. Himself. Alas, poor Troilus, I would he were. So he is. Condition. I had gone barefoot to India. He is not Hector.

Himself? No, he's not himself. Would I were himself? Well, the gods are above. Time must friend or end. Well, Troilus, well, I would my heart wear in her body. No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus. Excuse me.

He is elder. Pardon me, pardon me. Tother's not come to it. it. You shall tell me another tale when thothers come to it. Hector shall not have his wit this year. He shall not need it if he have his own. Nor his qualities. No matter. Nor his beauty. T'would not become him. His own's better. You have no judgment, niece. Helen herself swore to the other day that Troy us for a brown favour, for so tis, I must confess, not brown neither. No, but brown. Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.

Say the truth, true and not true. She praised his complexion above Paris. Why, Paris hath color enough. So he has. Then Troilus should have too much. If she praised him above, his complexion is higher than his. He, having color enough and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion.

I had as leaf Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose. I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris. Then she's a merry Greek indeed. They, I am sure she does. She came to him the other day into the compressed window, and you know he has not passed three or four hairs on his chin. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total. Why, he is very young, and yet will he, within three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector? Is he so young a man and so old a lifter? But to prove to you that Helen loves him, she came and puts me her white hand, to his cloven chin.

Chino have mercy. How came it cloven? Why, you know that tis dimpled. I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in Alphrigia. Oh, he smiles valiantly. Does he not? Oh, yes.

And twere a cloud in autumn. Why, go too, then, but to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus. Troilus will stand to the proof if you'll prove it so. Troilus, why he esteems her no more than I esteem an adult egg. If you love an idle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens of the shell. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin. Indeed, she has a marvelous white hand, I must need to confess.

Without the rack. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin. Alas, poor chin! Many a wart is richer. But there was such laughing, Queen Hacuba laughed that her eyes ran over. With millstones? And Cassandra laughed. But there was more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes. Did her eyes run or two? And Hector laughed.

At what was all this laughing? Mary, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus's chin. And it had been a green hair I should have laughed, too. They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer. What was his answer? Quoth she, here's but two and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white. This is her question. That's true. Make no question.

of that, two and fifty hairs, quoth ye, and one white, that white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons. Jupiter, quoth she, which of these hairs is Paris, my husband? The forked one, quoth ye, plucked out, and give it him. But there was such laughing in hell and so blushed, and Paris so chaf, and all the rest so laughed, that it passed. So let it now, for it has been while going by. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday, think on. So I do. I'll be sworn tis true, he will weep you, and twere a man born in April. And I'll spring up in his tears, and twere a nettle against May. A retreat sounded.

Hark, they are coming from the field. Shall we stand up here and see them as they pass toward Ilium? Good niece, do, sweet niece, Cressida. At your pleasure? Here, here, here's an excellent place. Here we may see most bravely. I'll tell them all by their names as they pass by, but mark Troilus above the rest. I'll speak not so loud.

That's Aeneas. Is not that a brave man? He's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you, but Mark Troilus, you shall see anon. Who's that? That's Antenor. He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you, and he's a man good enough. He's one of the soundest judgments in whosoever, and a proper man of person. When comes Troilus, I'll show you Troilus Anon. If he see me, you shall see him nod at me. Will he give you the nod?

You shall see. If he do, the rich shall have more. That's Hector, that. That, look you, that. There's a fellow. Go thy way, Hector. There's a brave man, niece. Oh, brave Hector, look how he looks.

There's a countenance. It's not a brave man? Oh, a brave man. Is it a knot? It does a man's heart good. Look you what hacks are on his helmet. Look you yonder. Do you see?

Look you there. There's no jessing. There's laying on. Take it off who will, as they say, there be hacks. Be those with swords. Swords? Anything. He cares not. And the devil come to him. It's all one. By God's lid, it does one's heart good. Yonder comes Paris. Yonder comes Paris.

Look yeander, niece. It's not a gallant man, too? It's not. Why, this is brave now. Who said he came hurt home today? He's not hurt. Why, this will do Helen's heart good now. Ha! Would I could see Troilus now? You shall see Troilus anon. Who's that? That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That's Helenus. I think he went not forth today. That's Helenus. Can Helenus fight, uncle? Helenus? No. Yes, he'll fight in different well. I marvel where Troilus is.

Hark, do you not hear the people cry Troilus? Helenus is a priest. What sneaking fellow comes yonder? Where? Yonder. That's Dephobis. Tis. Tis troilus. There's a man, niece. Him. Brave Troilus. The Prince of chivalry. Peace for shame! Peace! Mark him, note him. Oh, brave Troilus, look well upon him, niece. Look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hacked than Hector's, and how he looks, and how he goes. O admirable youth, he ne'er saw three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way. Had a sister were a grace or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice, O admirable man. Paris, Paris is dirt to him, and I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot.

Here come more. As is, fools, dolts, chaff and bran, chaff and bran, porridge after meat. I could live and die in the eyes of Troilus. Narrow look, narrow look, the eagles are gone. Crows and dogs, crows and daws. I had rather be such a man as Troilus in Agamon and all Greece. There is among the Greeks, Achilles, a better man than Troilus.

Achilles, a drayman, a porter, a very camel. Well, well. Well, well, why have you any discretion? Have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality and such like, the spice and salt that season a man? I, a minced man.

And then to be baked with no date in the pie, for then the man's dates out. You are such a woman, one knows not at what ward you lie. Upon my back, to defend my belly, upon my wit to defend my wiles, upon my secrecy to defend mine honesty, my mask to defend my beauty, and you to defend all these. And at all these wards I lie at a thousand watches. Say one of your watches. Nay, I'll watch you for that, and that's one of the chiefest of them, If I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow, unless it's swell past hiding, and then it's past watching.

You are such another. Enter Troilus's boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. Where? At your own house. There he unarms him. Good boy, tell him I come. Exit, boy. I doubt he be hurt. Fair you well, good niece.

Dear, Uncle. I'll be with you, niece, by and by. To bring, uncle? I, a token from Troilus. By the same token, you are a bawd. Exit, Panderus. Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, he offers in another's enterprise.

But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see than in the glass of Pander's praise, may be. Yet, hold I off. Women are angels wooing. Things won are done. Joy's soul lies in the doing. That she beloved knows not that knows not this. Men prize the thing ungained more than it is. That she was never yet that never knew love got so sweet as when desire did sue. Therefore, this maxim out of love i teach achievement is command ungain'd beseech then though my heart's content firm love doth bear nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear exeant scene three the grecian camp before agamemnon's tent senate enter agamemnon nestor ulysses menelaus and others princes what grief has set the jaundice on your cheeks the ample proposition that hope makes in all designs begun on earth below fails in the promised largeness checks and

disasters grow in the veins of actions highest reared, as knots by the conflux of meeting sap, infect the sound pine and divert his grain, tortive, and errant from his course of growth. Nor, Princess, is it matter new to us that we come short of our suppose so far that after seven years Siegiet Troiwolds stand. Seeth every action that hath gone before, whereof we have record, trial did draw by us and thwart, not answering the aim, and that unbodied figure of the thought that gave to surmise shape. Why then, you princes, do you with cheeks abashed, behold our works, and call them shames? Which are indeed not else, but the protractive trials of great jove to find persistive

constancy in men, the finesse of which metal is not found in fortune's love, for then, the bold and coward, the vice and fool, the artist and unred, the hard and soft seem all a find and kin, but in the wind and tempest of her frown, distinction with a broad and powerful fan, puffing at all, winnows the light away, and what hath mass or matter by itself lies rich in virtue and unmingled. With due observance of thy godlike seat, great Hacamemnon, Nestor shall apply thy latest words. In the reproof of chance lies the true proof of men.

The sea, being smooth, how many shallow, bauble boats dare sail upon her patient breast, making their way with those of nobler bulk. But let the ruffian boreas once enraged the gentle Thetus, and anon behold the strong-ribed barren. through liquid mountains cut, bounding between the two moist elements, like Perseus's horse. Where's then the saucy boat, whose weak untimbered sides, but even now co-rivaled greatness? Either to harbour fled, or made a toast for Neptune. Even so doth valour's show, and valour's

worth divide in storms of fortune. For in her ray and brightness the herd hath more annoyance by the breeze, than by the tiger. But when the splitting wind makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, and flies fled under shade, why then the thing of courage has roused with rage, with rage doth sympathize, and with an accent tuned in self-same key,

resorts to chiding fortune. Agamemnon, thou great, commander, nerve and bone of Greece, heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit in whom the tempers and thy the minds of all should be shut up. Hear what Ulysses speaks. Besides the applause and approbation,

the witch, most mighty for thy place and sway, and thou most reverend for thy stretched out life, I give to both your speeches, which were such as Agamemnon and the hand of Greece should hold up high in brass, and such again as venerable Nestor, hatched in silver, should with a bond of air, strong,

as the axle-tree on which heaven rides knit all the greekish ears to his experienced tongue yet let it please both thou great and wise to hear ulysses speak speak prince of itaka and be it of less expect that matter needless of importless burden divide thy lips than we are confident when rank tercetus opes his majestic jaws we shall hear music wit and oracle. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, and the great Hector's sword had lacked a master, but for these instances. The specialty of rule have been neglected, and look how many Grecian tents do stand hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions. When that the general is not like the hive to whom the foragers shall all repair, what honey is expected. Degree, being visited, the unworthiest, shows as fairly in the mask. The heavens themselves, the planets in this center observe degree, priority, and place,

insisture, coarse, proportion, season, form, office, and custom, in all line of order, and therefore is the glorious planet Saul in noble eminence enthroned and spied amidst the other, whose medicinable eye corrects the ill aspects of planets' evil, and posts, like the commandment of a king, Sons check to good and bad. But when the planets in evil mixture to disorder wander, what plagues and what portents, what mutiny, what raging of the sea, shaking of earth, commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors, divert and crack, rend and derast, the unity and married calm of states quite from their fixture. Oh, when degree is shaped, which is the ladder to all high designs, then enterprise is sick.

How could communities, degrees in schools, and brotherhoods and cities, peaceful commerce from dividable shores, the primogenitive and due of birth, prerogative of age, crowns, sceptors, laurels, but by degree, stand in authentic place. Take but degree away, untune that string, and hark what discord follows. Each thing meets in mere a pugnancy. The bounded waters should lift their bosoms higher than the shores and make a sop of all this solid globe. Strength should be lord of imbecility, and the rude son should strike his father

dead. Force should be right, or rather right and wrong between whose endless jar justice resides, should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then everything includes itself in power, power into will, will into appetite and appetite, a universal wolf, so doubly seconded with will and power, must make perforce a universal prey, and last, eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, this chaos, when degree is suffocate, follows the choking. And this neglection of degree it is that by a pace goes backward, with a purpose it hath to climb. The generals disdained by him one step below, he by the next, that next by him beneath,

so every step, exampled by the first pace that is sick of his superior, grows to an envious fever of pale and bloodless emulation, and tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, not her own sinews.

To end a tale of length, Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength. Most wisely hath Ulysses, here discovered the fever whereof all our power is sick. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses. What is the remedy?

The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns the sinew and the forehand of our host, having his ear full of his airy fame, grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent lies mocking our designs. With him Patroclus upon a lazy bed the live-long day breaks scurl jests, And with ridiculous and awkward action, which slanderer he imitation calls, he pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, thy topless deputation he puts on, and like a strutting player whose conceit lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich to hear the wooden dialogue and sound twixt his stretched footing and the scaffoldage, such to be pitied and o'er rested seeming, he act

thy greatness in and when he speaks tis like a chime amending with terms unsquared which from the tongue of roaring typhon dropped would seem hyperbole's at this fusty stuff the large achilles on his pressed bed lolling from his deep chest laughs out a loud applause cries excellent tis agamemnon just now play me nestar hem and stroke thy beard as he being drew rest to some oration. That's done, as near as the extremist ends of parallels, as like as Vulcan and his wife, yet God Achilles still cries, excellent, tis nest are right. Now play him me, Petroclos, arming to answer in a night alarm. And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age must be the scene of mirth, to cough and spit, and with a palsy fumbling on his gorget, shake in and out to the rivet, and at this sport Sir Valor dies, cries, Oh, enough Patroclus, or give me ribs of steel, I shall split all in pleasure of my spleen.

And in this fashion, all our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, Severals and generals of grace exact, achievements, plots, orders, preventions, excitements to the field or speech for truce, success or loss, what is or is not, serves as stuff for these two to make paradoxes. And in the imitation of these twain, who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns with an imperial voice, many are in fact, Ajax is grown self-willed and bears his head in such a rain in full as proud a place as broad Achilles.

Keeps his tent like him, makes factious feasts, rails on our state of war, bold as an oracle, and sets their scytees, a slave, whose gall coins slanders like a mint, to match us in comparisons with dirt, to weaken and discredit our exposure, how rank so ever rounded in with danger. They tax our policy and call it cowardice. Count wisdom as no member of the war. forestall prescience, and esteem no act but that of hand. The still and mental parts that do contrive how many hands shall strike, when fitness calls them on, and know by measure of their observant toil the enemy's weight, why this hath not a finger's dignity, they call this bedwork, mappery, closet war,

so that the ram that batters down the wall for the great swing and rudeness of his poise, they place before his hand that made the engine, or those that with the fineness of their souls by reason guide his execution. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse makes many Thetuses' sons. Attack it. What trumpet look, menelaus. From Troy. Enter Aeneas.

What would you for our tent? Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you? Even this. May one that is a herald and a prince, do a firm message to his kingly ears? With surety stronger than Achilles' arm, for all the Greekish heads, which with one voice call Agamemnon head and general.

Fair leave and large security, how may a stranger to those most imperial looks know them from the eyes of other mortals? How? Aye. I ask that I might waken reverence and bid the cheek be ready with a blush, modest as morning when she coldly eyes the youthful Phoebus, which is that God in office guiding men? Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?

This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy are ceremonious courtiers. Courteous is free as debonair, unarmed as bending angels. That's their fame in peace. But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, good arms, strong joints, true swords, and Jove's accord. But peace, Enos, peace, Trojan, lay thy finger on thy lips. The worthiness of praise disdains his worth, if that the praised himself bring the praise forth.

But what the repining enemy commends, that breath fame blows, that praise sole sure, transcends. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Ineus. I, Greek, that is my name. What's your affair, I pray you? Sir pardon, tis for Agamemnon's ears. He hears not privately that comes from Troy. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him. I bring a trumpet to awake his ear,

to set his sense on the attentive bent, and then to speak. Speak frankly as the wind. It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour, that thou shalt know. Trojan, he is awake. He tells thee so himself. Trumpet blow loud.

Send thy brass voice through all these lazy, and every Greek of metal let him know what Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. Trumpet sounds. We have great Agamemnon, here in Troy a prince called Hector, Priam is his father, who in this dull and long-continued truce is rusty groan. He bade me take a trumpet, and to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords, If there be one amongst the first of Greece that holds his honour higher than his ease,

that seeks his praise more than he fears his peril, that knows his valour and knows not his fear, that loves his mistress more than in confession, with truant vows to her own lips he loves, and dare a vow her beauty and her worth in other arms than hers. To him, this challenge. Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks, shall make it good or do his best to do it.

He hath a lady wiser, fairer, truer, than ever Greek did compass in his arms. and will to-morrow with his trumpet call midway between your tents and wolves of troy to rouse a grecian that is true in love if any come hector shall honour him if none he'll say in troy when he retires the grecian dames are sunburnt are not worth the splinter of a lance even so much this shall be told our lovers lord eneas if none of them have soul in such a kind we let them all at home but we are soldiers and may that soldier a mere recreant prove that means not hath not or is not in love if then one is or hath or means to be that one meets hector if none else i'm he tell him of nestor one that was a man when hector's grands are sucked he is old now but if there be not in our grecian host one noble man that hath one spark of fire to answer for his love tell him from me, I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, and in my vaunt brace put this withered brawn, and meeting him, will tell him that my lady was fairer than his grandam, and as chaste as may be in the world.

His youth in flood, I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth. Amen. Fair lord Ineus, let me touch your hand. To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir. Achilles shall have word of this intent. So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent. Yourself shall feast with us before you go, and find the welcome of a noble foe. Exeunt all but Ulysses and Nestor.

Nestor. What says Ulysses? I have a young conception in my brain. Be you my time to bring it to some shape. What is? This tis. blunt wedges rive hard knots the seeded pride that hath to this maturity blown up in rank achilles must or now be cropped or shedding breed a nursery of like evil to over bulk us all well and how this challenge that the gallant hector sends however it has spread in general name relates in purpose only to achilles the purpose is perspicuous even a substance whose grossness little can

to sum up, and in the publication make no strain, but that Achilles were his brain as barren as banks of Libya, though Apollo knows tis dry enough, well, with great speed of judgment, I, with celerity, find Hector's purpose pointing on him. And wake him to the answer, thank you? Yes, tis most meet. Who may you else suppose that can from Hector bring his honour off, if not Achilles? though it be a sportful combat, yet in the trial much opinion dwells, for here the Trojans taste our dearest repute with their finest palate.

And trust to me, Ulysses, our imputation shall be oddly poised in this wild action. For the success, although particular, shall give a scantling of good or bad unto the general, and in such indexes, although small pricks to their subsequent volumes, there is seen the baby figure of the giant mass of things to come at large. It is supposed he that meets Hector issues from our choice, and choice, being mutual act of all our souls, makes merit her election, and doth boil, as twere from us all, a man distilled out of our virtues, who, miscarrying what heart receives from hence the conquering part

to steal a strong opinion to themselves. which entertained limbs are his instruments in no less working than our swords and bows directive by the limbs give pardon to my speech therefore tis meet achilles meet not hector let us like merchants show our foulest wares and think perchance they'll sell if not the lustre of the better yet to show shall show the better do not consent that ever hector and achilles meet for both our honour and our shame in this are dogged with two strange followers i see them not with my old eyes what are they What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, were he not proud we all should share with him, but he already is too insolent, and we were better parched in Afrik sun than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes should he escape Hector fair? If he were foiled, why then we did our main opinion crush in taint of our best man?

No, make a lottery, and by device, let us. blockish Ajax draw the sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselves give him allowance for the better man, for that will physic the great Mermedon who broils in loud applause, and make him fall his crest that prouder than blue iris bends. If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, we'll dress him up in voices. If he fail, yet go we under our opinion still. that we have better men. But, hit or miss, our project's life

this shape of sense assumes, Ajax employed, plucks down Achilles' plumes. Ulysses, now I begin to relish thy advice, and I will give a taste of it forthwith to Agamemnon. Go we to him straight.

Two curs shall tame each other. Pride alone must tar the mastiffs on, as twere their bow. Exciant. End of Act 1. Act 2 of Troilus and Cressida. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Troilus and Cresida by William Shakespeare.

Act 2. Scene 1. A part of the Grecian camp. Enter Ajax and Thersites. Thersites! Agamnon, how if he had boils? Full all over. Thursites. And those boils did run?

Say so. Did not the general run then? Were that not a botchy core? Dog? Then would come some matter from him. I see done now. Thou bitch wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Beating him.

Feel then. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord. Speak then, thou vineyard. Speak then, thou Vignutes Levin, speak. I will beat thee into handsomeness. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness, but I think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou can strike, kest thou? A red moraine of thy jays tricks. Toadstool! Learn me the proclamation. Does thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus?

The proclamation. Thou are proclaimed a fool, I think. Do not, Porpentine, do not my fingers itch. I would thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratchy of thee. I would make thee the loathomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in these incursions, they strikeest, slow as another. I say the proclamation.

They grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles and thou art as full as envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at prosopines beauty. I that thou barketh at him.

Mistress Thurcites. Thurse, thou shouldstrike him. Cobloaf. He would ponder into shivers with his fist as a thaler breaks the Biscuit. Beating him. You horse and cur!

Do, do. Thou stool for a witch. Aye, do, do, thou southern, wicked lord. Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows, and Athenago may tutor thee, their scurvy, valiant ass. They are here but to thrash Trojans, and they are brought and sold among those of any wit.

Like a barbarian slave, if thou used to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches. Thou think of no bowels, thou? You dog! You scurvy lord! Beating him. You cur! Maas, his idiot.

Do, redness, do camel, do, do. Enter Achilles and Patroclus. Why how now, Ajax? Wherefore do you thus? How now, societies? What's the matter, man? You see him there, do you? Aye, what's the matter? Nay, look upon him. So I do. What's the matter? Nay, but regard him well.

Well? Why, I do so. But yet you look not well upon him, for whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax. I know that fool. I, but that fool knows not himself. Therefore I beat thee. No, no, no, no. What modicums of wit, he utters.

His evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat my bones. I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pea-a-matter is not worth. worth the nighness part of a sparrow. This Lord Achilles, Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly and his guts in his head,

I'll tell you what I say of him. What? I say this Ajax. Ajax offers to beat him. Nay, good Ajax. Has not so much wit. Nay, I must hold you. As will stop the eye of Helen's knee.

for whom he comes to fight. Peaceful. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not. He there, that he. Look you there. Oh, thou damned Kerr, I shall... Would you set your wit to a fool's?

No, I warrant you, for a fool's will shame it. Good words, this I tease. What's the quarrel? I bade the vile owl go learn me that tenor of the proclamation and he rails upon me. I serve thee not. Well, go too, go too. I serve here voluntarily.

Your last service was sufferance, twas not voluntary. No man is beaten voluntary. Ajax was here the voluntary and you as under an impress. In so, a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinus, or else there be liars. Hector have a great catch if you knock out either of your brains. I were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel.

What with me too, societies? There's Elysses and old Nesta, whose wick was mouldy, your grand thighs had nails on their toes, yoke you like draft oxen, and make you plough up the walls. What? What? Yes, good sooth.

Two, Achilles. Two, I jacks, two. I shall cut out your tongue. Tis no matter. I shall speak as much as thou afterwards. No more words, the Citees. Peace. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I?

That's for you, Patroclus. I will see you hanged like clock poles. Is I come any more to your tent? I will keep where there is wit steering and leave the faction of fools. Exit. A good riddance. Mary, this, sir, is proclaimed through all our host. That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun, will, with a trumpet twixt our tents and Troy,

tomorrow morning, call some night to arms that have a stomach, and such a one that dare maintain, I know not what. It is trash. Farewell. Farewell. Who shall answer him? I know not. Tis put to lottery, otherwise he knew this man.

Oh, meaning you. I will go learn more of it. Exeant Scene 2. Troy A room in Priam's Palace. Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Hellenus. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent,

Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks, deliver Helen and all damage else, as honor, loss of time, travail, expense, wounds, friends, and what else deer that is consumed in hot digestion of this comerant war shall be struck off. Hector, what say you to it? Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I, as far as toucheth my particular, yet dread priam, there is no lady of more softer bowels, more spongy to suck in the sense of fear, more ready to cry out, who knows what follows, than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety, surity secure. But modest doubt is called the beacon of the

wise, the tent that searches to the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go. Since the first sword was drawn about this question, every tithe soul amongst many thousand dimes hath been as dear as Helen, I mean of ours, if we have lost so many tenths of ours to guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us, had it our name, the value of one ten, what merits in that reason which denies the yielding of her up? Fie, fie, my brother, weigh you the worth and honor of a king so great as our dreadfather in a scale of common ounces, will you with counters some the past proportion of his infinite and buckle in a waste most fathomless with spans and inches so diminutive as fears and reasons fie for godly shame no marvel though you bite so sharp at reasons you are so empty of them should not our father bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons because your speech hath none that tells him so you are for dreams and slumbers brother priest you

fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons. You know an enemy intends you harm. You know a sword employed is perilous. And reason flies the object of all harm. Who marvels then when Helens when Helens beholds a Grecian and his sword? If he do set the very wings of reason

to his heels and fly like chidden mercury from Job or like a star disorbed? Nay, if we talk of reason, let's shut our gates and sleep huh manhood and honour should have hair hearts would they but fat their thoughts with this crammed reason reason and respect make livers pale and lustyhood deject brother she is not worth what she doth cost the holding what is aught but as tis valued but value dwells not in particular will it holds his estimate and dignity as well wherein tis precious of itself, as in the priser. Tis mad idolatry to make the service greater than the God, and the will dotes that is attributive to what infectiously itself affects, without some image of the affected merit. I take, today, a wife, and my election is led on in the conduct of my will. My will, enkindled by mine eyes and ears, two traded pilots twigs the dangerous shores of will,

and judgment how may i avoid although my will distaste what it elected the wife i chose there can be no evasion to blench from this and to stand firm by honour we turn not back the silks upon the merchant when we have soiled them nor the remainder viands we do not throw in unrespective sieve because we now are full it was thought meat paris should do some vengeance on the greeks your brain breath of full consent bellied his sails. The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce and did him service. He touched the port's desired, and for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive, he brought a Grecian queen whose youth and freshness wrinkles Apollos and makes stale the morning. Why keep we here? The Grecians have our aunt? Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a pearl Whose price

Hath launched above a thousand ships And turned crowned kings to merchants If you'll voucher twos wisdom Paris went As you must needs For your cry, go, go! If you'll confess he brought home noble prize As you must needs for you'll clap your hands And cried, Inestimable

Why do you now the issue of your proper wisdom's rate And do a deed that fortune never did beggar the estimation which you prized richer than sea and land. O theft most base that we have stolen what we do fear to keep! But thieves unworthy of a thing so stone that in their country did them that disgrace we fear to warrant in our native place. Cry, Trojans, cry! What noise? What shriek is this? Tis our mad sister. I do know her voice.

Cry, Trojans. It is Cassandra. Enter Cassandra, raving. Cry, Trojan's cry. Land me ten thousand eyes, and I will fill them with prophetic tears. Peace, sister, peace! Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled, illed. Soft infancy that nothing canst but cry, add to my clamors.

Let us pay be times a moiety of that mass of moon to come. Cry, Trojans, cry! Try, practice your eyes with tears. Troy must not be, nor goodly alien stand. Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Trojans cry, a Helen and a woo. Cry, cry, cry. Troy burns, or else let Helen go.

Exit. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strain. of divination in our sister work some touches of remorse, or is your blood so madly hot that no discourse of reason nor fear of bad success and a bad cause can qualify the same? Why, brother Hector, we may not think the justness of each act such, and no other than event doth form it, nor wants deject the courage of our mind because Cassandra's mad. Her brain-sick raptures cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel which hath our several honours all engaged to make it gracious? For my private part, I am no more touched than all Priam's sons.

And Joe forbid that there should be done amongst us such things as might offend the weakest spleen to fight for and maintain? Else might the world convince of levity as well my undertakings as your counsels. But I attest the gods. Your full consent gave wings to my propension, and cut off all fears attending on so dire a project. For what, alas, can these my single arms? What propagation is in one man's valor to stand the push and enmity of those this quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, were I alone to pass the difficulties and had as ample power as I have will. Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done, nor faint in the pursuit.

Paris, you speak like one besotted on your sweet delights. You have the hundred still, but these the gall. So to be valiant is no praise at all. Sir, I propose not merely to myself the pleasure such a beauty brings with it. But I would have the soil of her fair rape wiped off, in honourable keeping her. What treason were it to the ransacked queen, disgraced your great worths, and shame to me, now to deliver her possession up, on terms of base compulsion? Can it be that so degenerate a strain as this should one set footing in your generous bosoms?

There's not the meanest spirit on our party without a heart to dare or sword to draw when Helen is defended, nor none so noble whose life were ill-bestowed or death unfamed, where Helen is the subject. Then I say, well may we fight for her whom we know well, the world's large spaces cannot parallel. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well, and on the cause and question now in hand have glosed, but superficially, not much unlike young men whom Aristotle thought unfit to hear moral philosophy. The reasons you allege do more conduce to the hot passion of distempered blood

than to make up a free determination twixt right and wrong, for pleasure and revenge, have ears more deaf than adders to the voice of any true decision. Nature craves all doos be rendered to their owners. Now, what nearer debt in all humanity than wife is to the husband? If this law of nature be corrupted through affection, and that great minds of partial indulgence to their benumbed wills resist the same, there is a law in each well-ordered nation to curb those raging appetites that are most disobedient and refractory. If Helen then be wife to Sparta's King, as it is known she is. These moral laws of nature and of nations speak aloud to have her back returned. Thus to persist in doing wrong extenuates not wrong, but makes it much more heavy.

Hector's opinion is this in way of truth. Yet nevertheless, my sprightly brethren, I propend to you in resolution to keep Helen still, for tis a cause that hath no mean dependence, our joint and several dignities. Why there you touched the life of our design! Were it not glory that we more affected than the performance of our heaving spleen? I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood spent more in her defense. But, worthy Hector, she is a theme of honor and renown, a spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, whose present courage may beat down our foes

and fame in time to come canonize us. For I presume brave Hector would not lose so rich advantage of a promised glory as smiles upon the forehead of this action for the wide world's revenue. I am yours, you valiant offspring of great Priamus. I have a roisting challenge sent amongst the done and factious nobles of the Greeks will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits. I was advertised that their great general slept, whilst emulation and the army crept. This, I presume, will wake him.

Exeunt. Scene 3. The Grecian camp, before Achilles tent. Enter Thurcites, Solus. How now, Thurcites? What? Lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me, and I rail at him. A worthy satisfaction, would it were otherwise that I could beat him whilst he railed at me? Sfut, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer. Is Troy be not taken till these two undemined it, the walls will stand till they fall,

fall of themselves. O thou, great thunder darts of Olympus, forget that thou art Job, the king of gods, and Mercury lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if we take not that little, little less than little wit from them that they have. With short, um, ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce. It will not in circumvention deliveration, deliver a, a fly from a spider without drawing their massive irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp, or rather the boneache, for that, me thinks, is the curse dependent on those that wore for a placate. I have said my prayers, and devil envy say amen.

Whatho, my Lord Achilles. Enter Petroclos. Who's there? Thocytes. Good Thucydes come in and rail. If I could have remembered a guilt counterfeit, thou would not have slipped out of my contemplation, but it is no matter. Thyself upon thyself. The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance,

be thine in great revenue. Heaven bless thee from a tutor and discipline come not near thee. Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death. Then if she that lays thee out says there are a fair course, I'll be sworn and sworn upon she never shrouded any but lasers. Amen. Where's Achilles?

What, are thou devout? What's thou in prayer? Aye, the heavens hear me. Enter Achilles. Who's there? Descites, my lord. Where, where? Aren't thou come?

Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself into my table so many meals? Come, what's Agamemnon? The commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles? By lord, the Citees, then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself? Thine Noah, Petroclis.

Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou? Thou mayest tell that knowest. Oh, tell, tell. Then I'll decline the whole question. Agamibod commands Achilles. Achilles is my lord. I am Petroclis Noah, and Patroclus is a fool. You rascal.

Peace, fool, I have not done. He is a privileged man. Proceed the CITES. Agamemnon is a fool. Achilles is a fool. Ther Cytes is a fool. And as a foresaid, Patroclus is a fool. Derive this. Come.

Agamemnon is a fool to command Achilles. Achilles is a fool to be commanded of a fool. Agamemnon. Thercite's is a fool to serve such a fool and Petroclus is a fool positive. Why am I a fool? Make that demand of the prover. It suffices me that thou art. Look you, who comes here. Petroclos, I'll speak with nobody. Come in with me, Thessites. Exit. Here is such patchery, such juggling and such. canavery all the argument is a cuckold and a whar a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon now the dry serpico on the subject and war and lechery confound all

exit enter agamemnon ulysses nestor diomedes and ajax where is achilles within his tent by ill-disposed, my lord. Let it be known to him that we are here. He shent our messengers, and we lay by our appertainments visiting of him. Let him be told so, lest perchance he think we dare not move the question of our place, or know not what we are. I shall say so to him. Exit.

We saw him at the opening of his tent. He is not sick. Yes, lion's sick, sick of proud heart. You may call it melancholy if you will favour the man, but by my head tis pride. But why, why, let him show us the cause. A word, my lord. Takes Agamemnon aside. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?

Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. Who, Thursites? He. Then will Ajax lack matter if he have lost his argument? No, you see, he is his argument that has his argument, Achilles. All the better, their fraction is more our wish than their faction. But it was a strong composure a fool could disunite. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie.

Here comes Petroclos. Re-enter Petroclos. No Achilles with him? The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy. His legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure. Achilles bids me say he is much sorry. if anything more than your sport and pleasure did move your greatness and this noble state to call upon him he hopes it is no other but for your health and your digestion sake and after dinner's breath hear you patroclus we are too well acquainted with these answers but his evasion winged thus swift with scorn cannot outfly our apprehensions much attribute he hath and much the reason why we ascribe it

to him, yet all his virtues, not virtuously, on his own part, behold, do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss? Yeah, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish, our like to rot untasted, go and tell him, we come to speak with him, and you shall not sin if you do say we think him over-proud, and under-honest, in self-assumption greater than in the note of judgment, and worthy than himself, here tend the savage strangeness he puts on, disguised the holy strength of their command, and underwrite in an observing kind his humorous predominance. Yeah, watch his pettish loons, his ebbs, his flows, as if the passage and whole carriage of this action rode on his tide.

Go tell him this, and add, that if he overhauled his price so much, we'll none of him, but let him like an engine, not portable, lie under this report. Bring action hither. This cannot go to war. A stirring dwarf we do allowance give before a sleeping giant. Tell him so. I shall. And bring his answer presently.

Exit. In second voice, we'll not be satisfied. We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter you. Exit Ulysses. What is he, more? than another. No more than what he thinks he is. Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am? No question. Will you subscribe his thought and say he is? No, noble Iax. You are as strong,

as valiant as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable. Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is. Your mind is the clearer, Ayax. and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up himself, pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle, and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads. Aside. Yet he loves himself. It's not strange. Re-enter Ulysses. Achilles will not to the field tomorrow. What's his exquisite?

He doth rely on none, but carries on the stream of his dispose, without observance or respect of any, in will peculiar and in self-admission. Why will he not upon our fair request untent his person and share the air with us? Things small as nothing, for requests' sake only, he makes important. Possessed he is with greatness and speaks not to himself but with a pride that quarrels at self-bread. imagined worth holds in his blood such swall'l and hot discourse that twixt his mental and his active parts kingdomed achilles in commotion rages and batters down himself what should i say he is so plaguy proud that the death tokens of it cry no recovery let ajax go to him dear lord go you and greet him in his tent tis said he holds you well and will be led at your request a little from himself o agamemnon let it not be so we'll consecrate the steps that ajax makes when they go from achilles shall a proud lord that bastes his arrogance with his own seam and never suffers matter of the world enter his thoughts save such as do revolve and ruminate himself shall he be worshipped of that we hold an idol more than he?

No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord must not so stale his palm, nobly acquired, nor by my will a subjugate his merit, as amply titled as Achilles is, by going to Achilles. That were to enlarge his fat already pride, and add more coals to cancer when he burns with entertaining great Hyperion. This Lord go to him? Jupiter forbid, and say in thunder, Achilles go to him. Aside to Diomedes. Oh, this is well. He rubs the vein of him. And how his silence drinks up this applause. If I go to him with my armed fist, I'll pash him or the face. Oh no, you shall not go. Anna be proud with me I'll fees his pride. Let me go to him. Not for the work. that hangs upon our quarrel.

A paltry, insolent fellow. How he describes himself. Can he not be sociable? The raven shides blackness. I'll let his humor's blood. He will be the physician that shall be the patient. And all men were in my mind. Witt would be out of fashion.

I should not bear it so. I should eat swords first. Shall pride carry it? And would, you'd carry half. A would have ten shares. I will need him. I'll make him supple. He's not yet throw warm. Force him with praises. Pour in. Pour in. His ambition is dry.

To Agamemnon. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. Our noble general do not do so. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Why, tis this naming of him does him harm. Here is a man, but tis before his face I will be silent. Wherefore should you so? He's not emulous as Achilles is.

No, the whole world. He is as valiant. A horse and dog that shall peltar thus with us. Would he were a Trojan? What a vice were it in Ajax now? If he were proud, or covetous of praise. I are surly born, or strange, or self-affected. Thank the heavens, Lord, thou art of sweet composure. Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee, famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature thrice famed beyond all erudition.

But he that discipline thy arms to fight, let Mars divide eternity in twain and give him half, and for thy vigor, bull-bearing Milo his addition yield to sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, which like a born, a pale, ashore, confines thy spacious and dilated parts. Here's Nestor, instructed by the antiquary times. He must, he is, he cannot, but be wise.

But pardon, Father Nestor, were your days as green as Ajax, and your brain so tempered, you should not have the eminence of him, but be as Ajax. Shall I call you father? Aye, my good son, be ruled by him, Lord Ajax.

There is no tariff. here. The heart Achilles keeps thicket. Please it our great general to call together all his state of war. Fresh kings are come to Troy. Tomorrow we must, with all our main of power, stand fast, and here's a lord. Come knights from east to west and call their flower. Ajax shall cope the best. Go we to council, let Achilles sleep. Lightboats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. Excient. End of Act 2. Act 3 of Troilus and Cressida.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Troilus and Cresida by William Shakespeare. Act 3. Scene 1. Troy. Priam's Palace. Enter a servant and Pandarus. Friend, you pray you a word. Do not you follow the young Lord Paris?

Aye, sir. When he goes before me. depend on him, I mean. Sir, I do depend upon the Lord. You depend upon a noble gentleman. I must needs praise him. The Lord be praised. You know me, do you not? Faith, sir, superficially.

Friend, know me better. I am the Lord Pandarus. I hope I shall know your honor better. I do desire it. You are in the state of grace. Grace, not so, friend. Honor and lordship are my titles. Music within.

What music is this? I do but partly no, sir. it is music in parts know you the musicians holy sir who play they to to the hearers sir at whose pleasure friend at mine sir and theirs that love music command i mean friend who shall i command sir friend we understand not one another i am too courtly and thou art too cutting at whose request do these men play that toot indeed sir mary sir at the request of paris my lord who's there in person with him the mortal venus the heart-blood of beauty loves invisible soul who my cousin cressida no sir helen could you not find out that by her attributes it's the same fellow that thou hast not seen the lady cressida i come to speak with paris from the prince torius i will make a complimental assault upon him for my business seeth Sodom business, there's a stude phrase indeed. Enter Paris and Helen, attended. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company.

Fair desires in all fair measure. Fair they guide them, especially to you, fair queen. Fair thoughts be your fair pillow. Dear Lord, you're full of fair words. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince, here is good broken music. You have broke it, cousin. and by my life you shall make it whole again.

You shall piece it out with a piece of your performance. Nell, he is full of harmony. Truly, lady, no. Oh, sir. Rude in sooth. In good sooth, very rude. Well said, my lord. Well, you say so in fits. I have business to my lord, dear queen.

My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word? Nay, this shall not hedge us out. We'll hear you sing, certainly. Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant with me, but marry, thus, my lord, my dear lord and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus. My lord, panderous, honey, sweet lord. Go too, sweet queen, to go. Commends himself most affectionately to you. You shall not bob us out of our melody, if you do are melancholy upon your head. Sweet queen, sweet queen, that's a sweet queen, faith.

And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence. Nay, that shall not serve your turn, that shall not in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words, no, no, and, my lord, he desires you, that if the king call for him at supper, you will make his excuse. My lord, pandrus. What says, my sweet queen, my very, very sweet queen? What exploits in hand? Where subs he tonight? Nay, but my lord!

What says my sweet queen? My cousin will fall out with you. You must not know where he sups. I'll lay my life with my disposer, Cressida. No, no, no, no such matter. You are wide. Come, your disposer is sick. Well, I'll make excuse. I go, my lord. Why should you say Cressida?

No, your poor disposer is sick. I spy. You spy. What do you spy? Come, give me an instrument. Now, sweet queen. Why, this is kindly done. My niece is horribly in love With a thing you have, sweet queen

She shall have it, my lord If it be not my lord Paris He, no shall none of him, They two are twain Falling in, after falling out May make them three Come, come, I'll hear no more of this, I'll sing you a song now

Aye, aye, pretty, now By my truth, sweet lord Thou hast to fine forehead Aye, you may, you may Let thy song be love this love will undo us all O Cupid Cupid Cupid

Cupid Love, aye that it shall Ifeth Aye, good now Love, love Nothing but love In good troth It begins so

Sings Love, love Nothing but love still more 4 O loves bow Shoots buck and doe The shaft confounds Not that it wounds But tickles still the sore

These lovers cry, oh, they die. Yet that which seems the wound to kill, Doth turn, oh, O, O, do ha ha, he. So dying love lives still. O, O, O a while, but ha, ha, ha. O, o groans out for ha ha ha. Hey-ho. In love, faith, to the very tip of the nose.

He eats nothing but doves, love. And that breeds hot blood. And hot blood begets hot thoughts. and hot thoughts beget hot deeds. And hot deeds is love. Is this the generation of love, hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?

Sweet Lord, who's a field today? Hector, Deipobus, Hellenus, Antinor, and all the gallantry of Troy. I would fain have armed today, but my knell would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went to? not. He hangs the lip at something. You know all, Lord Pandarus?

Not I, honey, sweet queen. I long to hear how they sped today. You'll remember your brother's excuse? To a hare. Farewell, sweet queen. Commend me to your niece. I will, sweet queen. Exit. A retreat sounded.

There come from the field. Let us to Priam's Hall to greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you to help unarm our Hector, his stubborn buckles with these your white enchanting fingers touched, shall more obey than to the edge of steel or force of Greekish sinews. You shall do more than all the island kings. Disarm great Hector. T'will make us proud to be his servant, Paris. Yay, what he shall receive of us in duty gives us more palm in beauty than we have. Yay, overshines ourself. Sweet, above the

thought I love thee. Axiant. Scene two. The same. Panderus's orchard. Enter Panderus and Troilus' boy, meeting. How now? Where's thy master?

At my cousin Cressidaus? No, sir. He stays for you to conduct him thither. Oh, here he comes. Enter Troilus. How now, how now? Sirah, walk off. Exit, boy.

Have you seen my cousin? No, Pandarus. I stalk about her door like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage. Oh, be thou, my charon, and give me swift transportance to those fields where I may wallow in the lilybeds proposed for the deserver. Oh, gentle Pandarus from Cupid's shoulder, pluck his painted wings and fly with me to crest it. Walk here is the orchard. I'll bring her straight. Exit. I'm giddy. expectation whirls me round.

The imaginary relishes so sweet that it enchants my sense. What will it be, when that the watery palate tastes indeed, loves thrice repurate nectar? Death, I fear me. Swooning destruction or some joy too fine, too subtle potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness with the capacity of my ruder powers. I fear it much, and I do fear besides that I shall lose distinction in my joys, as doth a battle when they charge on heaps the enemy flying. Re-enter Pandarus.

She's making her ready, she'll come straight. You must be witty now. She does so blush and fetches her wind so short, as if she were afraid with a sprite. I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain. She fetches her breath as short as a new tan sparrow. Exit.

Even such a passion. doth embrace my bosom my heart beats thicker than a feverish pulse and all my powers do their bestowing lose like vassalage at unawares encountering the eye of majesty re-enter pandarus with cressida come come what need you blush shame's a baby here she is now swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me what are you gone again you must be watched ere you must be made tame must you come your ways come your ways and you draw backward we'll put you to the fills why do you not speak to her come draw this curtain and let's see your picture alas the day how loath you are to offend daylight and twere dark you'd close sooner so so rub on and kiss the mistress how now a kiss in fee farm build there carpenter the air is sweet may ye shall fight your hearts out ere i part you the falcon as the tersal for all the ducks in the river. Go to, go too. You

have bereft me of all words, lady. Words pay no debts. Give her deeds. But she'll bereave you owe the deeds too, if she call your activity in question. What, billing again? Here's in witness whereof the parties interchangeably. Come in, come in, I'll go get a fire.

Exit. Will you walk in, my lord? Oh, Cressida, how often have I wished me thus? Wished, my lord, the gods grant. Oh, my lord. What should they grant? What makes this pretty abruption? What two curious dregs spies my lady in the fountain of our love?

More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes. Fures make devils of cherubes. They never see truly. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oft cures the worse. Let my lady apprehend no fear. In all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster. Nor nothing monstrous neither.

Nothing but our undertakings. When we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks. tame tigers, thinking it harder for our mistress to devise in position enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstrosity in love, lady, that the will is infinite, and the execution can find, that the desire is boundless and the act to sleep to limit. They say all lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform, vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.

They that have the voice of lions and the act of hairs, are they not monsters? Are there such? Well, such are not we. Praise us as we are tasted. Allow us as we prove. Our head shall go bare to merit crown it. No perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present.

We will not name dessert before his birth, and being born his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith? Troilus shall be decreed as what envy can say worst shall be a mock for his truth, and what truth can speak truest, not truels. Will you walk in, my lord? Re-enter Pandarus. What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet?

Well, uncle, what father? I commit, I dedicate to you. I thank you for that. If my lord get a boy of you, you'll give him me. Be true to my lord. If he flinch, chide me for it. You know now you're hostages, your uncle's word, and my firm faith.

Nay, I'll give my word for her too. Our kindred, though they belong ere they are wooed. They are constant being one. They are burrs, I can tell you. They'll stick where they are thrown. Boldness comes to me now and brings me heart. Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day for many weary months. Why was my Cresset then so hard to win?

Hard to seem one. But I was one, my lord, with the first glance that ever... Pardon me. If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. I love you now. But not till now so much, but I might master it. In faith I lie. My thoughts were like unbridled children,

Grown too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools. Why have I blabbed? Who shall be true to us when we are so unsecret to ourselves? But though I loved you well, I wooed you not. And yet, good faith, I will. wished myself a man, or that we women had men's privilege of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue, for in this rapture I shall surely speak the thing I shall repent.

See, see your silence, cunning and dumbness from my weakness draws my very soul of counsel. Stop my mouth. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence. Pretty if faith. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me. It was not my purpose thus to beg a kiss. I am ashamed. Oh, heavens, what have I done?

For this time will I take my leave, my lord. Your leave, sweet Crescent? Leave, and you take leave till tomorrow morning. Pray you content you. What offends you, lady? Sir, mine own coming. You cannot shun yourself. Let me go and try.

I have a kind of self resides with you, but an unkind self that itself will leave to be another's fool. I would be gone. Where is my wit? I know not what I speak. Well, know they what they speak that speak so wisely. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love, and fell so roundly. fell so roundly to a large confession to angle for your thoughts. But you are wise, or else you love not, for to be wise and love exceeds man's might,

that dwells with gods above. Oh, that I thought it could be in a woman. As if it can, I will presume in you, To feed for I her ramp and flames of love, To keep her constancy in plight and youth, Outliving beauties outward, With a mind, the dead. doth renew swifter than blood decays, or that persuasion could but thus convince me that my

integrity and truth to you might be affronted with the match and weight of such a winnowed purity in love. How were I then uplifted? But alas, I am as true as truth's simplicity and simpler than the infancy of truth. In that I'll war with you. Oh, virtuous fight when right with right wars who will be most right? Ah, true swains in love in the world to come approve their truths by Troilus. When their rhymes full of protest of oath and big compare want similes, truth tired with iteration.

As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, as sun today, as turtle to her mate. As iron to adamant, as earth, to the center, yet after all comparisons of truth as truth's authentic author to be cited, as true as Troyless, shall crown up the verse and sanctify the numbers. Prophet may you be, if I be false or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when water-drops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing. Yet let memory, from false to

false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood, when they've said, As false as air, As water, wind, or sandy earth, As fox to lamb, As wolf to heifer's calf, "'Pard to the hind or step-dame to her son. "'Ye, let them say, "'to stick the heart of falsehood, "'as false as cressid. "'Go to, a bargain made. "'Seal it, seal it.

"'I'll be the witness. "'Here, I hold your hand. "'Here, my cousins, "'if ever you prove false one to another, "'since I have taken such pains to bring you together, "'that all pitiful goers between "'be called to the world's end after my name. "'Call them all panes,

Let all constant men be troiluses, all false women cressids, and all brokers between panders. Say amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber with a bed, which bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death, away. And Cupid, grant all tongue-tied maid is here. Bed, chamber.

Pandar to provide this gear. Exeunt Scene three. The Grecian camp, before Achilles tent. Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, Ajax, Manilaeus, and Calcus. Now, princes, for the service I've done you, the advantage of the time prompts me aloud to call for recompense. A period to your mind that, through the night, I bear in things to love,

I've abandoned Troy, left my possession, incurred it, traitor's name, exposed myself from certain and possessed conveniences to doubtful fortunes, sequestering from me all the time acquaintance, custom and condition made tame and most familiar to my nature, and here to do your service, and become as new into the world, strange, unacquainted. I do beseech you, as in way of a taste, to give me now a little benefit, out of those many registered in promise, which you say live to come in my behalf. What wouldst thou of us, Troyan? Make demand. You have a Trojan prisoner called Antinor, yesterday took. Troy holds him very dear.

oft have you, often have you thanks, therefore. Desired my Cressid in right great exchange, whom Troy hath still denied, But this Antinor, I know, is such a rest in their affairs, That their negotiations all must slack, wanting his manage. And they will almost give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, in change of him. let him be sent great princes and he shall buy my daughter and her presence shall quite strike off all service i have done in most accepted pain let diomedes bear him and bring us cressid hither calcas shall have what he requests of us good diomed furnish you fairly for this interchange withal bring word if hector will to-morrow be answered in his challenge aax is ready this shall i undertake and tis a burden which i am proud to bear xient diomedes and calchus enter achilles and petrochus before their tent

Achilles stands in the entrance of his tent, Pleased our general to pass strangely by him, as if he were forgot, And princes all lay negligent and loose regard upon him. I will come last, tis like he'll question me why such unplausive eyes are bent on him. If so, I have derision medicinable to use between your strangeness and his pride, Which his own will shall have desire to drink. it may be good pride hath no other glass to show itself but pride for supple knees feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees we'll execute your purpose and put on a form of strangeness as we pass along so do each lord and either greet him not or else disdainfully which shall shake him more than if not looked on i will lead the way

what comes the general to speak with me you know my mind i'll fight no more gainst troy what says achilles would he aught with us would you my lord ought with the general no nothing my lord the better exeunt agamemnon and nestor good day good day how do you how do you exit what does the cuck-hold scorn me how now patroclus Good morrow, Ajax. Huh? Good morrow. Aye, and good next day, too. Axet. What mean these fellows?

No, they not Achilles? They pass by strangely. They were used to Ben to send their smiles before them to Achilles, to come as humbly as they used to creep to holy altars. What, am I poor of late? Tis certain greatness once fallen out with fortune must fall out with men too. What the decline is, he shall as soon, read in the eyes of others as feel in his own fall. For men, like butterflies, show not their mealy

wings but to the summer, and not a man for being simply man hath any honour, but honour for those honours that are without him, as place, riches favour, prizes of accident, as oft as merit, which when they fall as being slippery standards, the love that leaned on them as slippery too, do one pluck down another, and together die in the fall? But tis not so with me. Fortune and I are friends i do enjoy at ample point all that i did possess save these men's looks who do me thinks find out something not worth in me such rich beholding as they have often given here is ulysses i'll interrupt his reading how now ulysses now great thetis son what are you reading a strange fellow here writes me that man how dearly ever parted how much in having or without or in cannot make boast to have that which he hath nor feels not what he owes but by reflection as when his virtues shining upon others heap them and they retort that heat again to the first giver that is not strange ulysses the beauty that is born here in the face the bearer knows not but commends itself to others eyes nor doth the eye itself that most pure spirit of sense behold itself

not going from itself but eye to eye opposed salutes each other with each other's form for speculation turns not to itself till it hath travelled and dis mirrored there where it may see itself this is not strange at all I do not strain at the position, it is familiar, but at the author's drift, who in his circumstance expressly proves that no man is the lord of anything, though in and of him there be much consisting, till he communicate his parts to others. Nor doth he of himself know them for aught till he behold them formed in the applause where they're extended, who, like an arch, reverberates the voice again, or, like a gate of steel fronting the sun, receives and renders back his figure and his heat.

I was much wrapped in this, and apprehended here immediately, the unknown Ajax. Heavens, what a man is there, a very horse that has he knows not what. Nature, what things there are most abject in regard, and dear in use? What things again most dear in the esteem and poor in worth? Now shall we see tomorrow an act that very chance to throw upon him, Ajax renowned.

Oh, heavens, what some men do while some men leave to do. How some men creep in skittish fortunes hall, whilst others play the idiots in her eyes. how one man eats into another's pride, while pride is fasting in his wantonness. To see these Grecian lords, why even already they clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder, as if his foot were on brave Hector's breast and great Troy shrieking. I do believe it, for they passed me by as misers do by beggars, neither gave to me good word nor good look. What are my deeds forgot?

Hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, wherein he puts alms for oblivion, a great-sized monster of ingratitudes. Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devoured as fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done. Perseverance, dear my lord, keeps honour bright. To have done is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail in monumental mockery. Take the instant way, for honor travels in a straight so narrow, where one but goes abreast. Keep then the path, for emulation hath a thousand sons that one by one pursue, if you give way,

or hedge aside from the direct forthright, like to an entered tide they all rush by and leave you hindmost. Or like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, lie there for pay. to the abject rear, or run and trampled on, then what they do in present, though less than yours in past, must or top yours. For time is like a fashionable host that slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, and with his arms outstretched as he would fly, grasps in the comer. Welcome ever smiles, and farewell goes out-sighted. sighing.

Oh, let not virtue seek remuneration for the thing it was. For beauty, wit, high birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, love, friendship, charity, are subjects all too envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin that all with one consent praise newborn gods, though they are made and molded, of things past, and give to dust that is a little guilt, more laud than guilt or dusted.

The present eye praises the present object. Then marvel not thou great and complete man that all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax, since things in motion sooner catch the eye than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee, and still it might, and yet it may again, if thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive and case thy reputation in thy tent, whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, made emulous missions amongst the gods themselves and drave great Mars to faction. Of this my privacy, I have strong reasons.

But gainst your privacy the reasons are more potent and heroical. Tis known Achilles that you are in love with one of Priam's daughters. Ha, known. Is that a wonder? The providence that's in a watchful state knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold, finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps, keeps place with thought,

and almost like the gods does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. There is a mystery with whom relation durst never meddle in the soul of state, which hath an operation more divine than breath or pen can give expressure to. All the commerce that you have had, with Troy as perfectly is ours as yours, my lord. And better would it fit Achilles much to throw down Hector than Palluxana. But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, when fame shall in our

islands sound her trump, and all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing, great Hector's sister did Achilles win, but our great Ajax bravely beat down him. Farewell, my lord, I am. As your lover speak, the fools slides or the ice that you should break. Exit. To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you? A woman impudent and manish-grown is not more loathed than an effeminate man in time of action. I stand condemned for this. They think my little stomach to the war, and your great love to me restrains you thus.

Sweet, rouse yourself. and the weak, wanton Cupid shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, and, like a dewdrop from the lion's mane, be shook to air. Shall Ajax fight with Hector? Aye, and perhaps receive much honour by him. I see my reputation is at stake, my fame is shrewdly gourd. Oh, then beware. Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves. A mission to do what is necessary, seals a case.

commission to a blank of danger, and danger like an ague, subtly taints even then when we sit idly in the sun. Go call for CITES hither, sweet Petroclos. I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him to invite the Trojan lords after the combat to see us here unarmed. I have a woman's longing, an appetite that I am sick withal, to see great hector in his weeds of peace, to talk with him, and to behold his visage. Even to my full of view.

Enter Thurcites. A labour saved. A wonder. What? Apex goes up and down the field, asking for himself. How so? He must fight singly tomorrow with Hector, and is so prophetically proud of a heroic cudgeling

that he raved in saying nothing. How can that be? Why, he stalked up and down like a peacock, a stride and a stand ruminate like an hostess that has no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning bites his lip with a politic regard as who should say there were wit in his head and twould out and so there is but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint which will not show without knocking the man's undone for ever ever, for as Hector breaks not his neck in the combat, he'll break himself in vague glory. He knows not me. I said, good-morrow, Ajax.

And he replies, thanks, how good-emnod? What think you of this man that takes me for the general? He's grown a very landfish, languish, languish, a monster, a plague of opinion. A man may wear it on both sides. like a leather jerkin. Thou must be my ambassador to him Thracitees. Who? I? Why,

he'll answer nobody. He processes not answering. Speaking is for beggars. He wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his presence. Let Petroclus make DeBars to me. You shall see the pageant of Ajax. To him, Patroclus.

Tell him I humbly deservous. the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent and to procure safe conduct for his person of the magnanimous and most illustrious six or seven times honored Captain General of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, etc. Do this. Jove bless great Ajax. Hym. I come from the worthy Achilles. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent? Hem. And to procure a safe conduct from Agamemnon. Agamemnon?

Am I, my lord? Huh. What say you to it? God be with you with all my heart. Your answer, sir? If tomorrow I be a fair day by 11 o'clock

it will go one way or other. Hathsoever, he shall pay for me here he has me. Your answer, sir. Fear you will with all my heart. Why, but he is not in this. tune, is he? No, but he's out of cue thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains?

I know not, but I am sure none, unless the figlet Apollo get his sinews to make cacklings on. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. Let me bear another to his horse, for that's the more capable creature. My mind is troubled. Like a fountain stirred, and I myself see not the bottom of it. Exeunt Achilles and Petroclos. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again that I might water an ass at it? I had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance. Exit

End of Act 3 Act 4 of Troyless and Cressida. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Troilus and Cressida by William Shakespeare. Act 4. Scene 1. Troy. A Street. Enter from one side, Aeneas, and servant, with a torch. From the other, Paris, Diaphibus, Antenor, Diomedes, and others with torches. See, ho. Who is that there?

It is the Lord Aeneas. Is the prince there in person? Had I so good occasion till I long as you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business should rob my bedmate of my company. That's my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Eeneas. A valiant Greek, Eeneas, take his hand. Witness the process of your speech, wherein you told how Diomed, a whole week by days, did haunt you in the field. Health to your valiant, sir, during all question of the gentle truce. But when I meet you armed, as black defiance as heart can think or courage execute.

the one and other Diomed embraces. Our bloods are now in calm and so long health. But when contention and occasion meet, by Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life with all my force, pursuit and policy. And thou shalt hunt a lion that will fly with his face backward. Inhumane gentleness, welcome to Troy, now by Antichy's life, welcome indeed. By Venus hand, I swear no man alive can love in such a sort. the thing he means to kill more excellently.

We sympathise. Jove, let Ineus live. If to my sword his fate be not the glory, a thousand complete courses of the sun. But, in mine emulous honour, let him die with every joint a wound and that tomorrow. We know each other well. We do, and long to know each other worse.

This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, the noblest, hateful love, that ere I heard of. What business, Lord, so early? I was sent for to the king, but why I know not. His purpose meets you. T'was to bring this Greek to Calchas'us' house,

and there to render him, for the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid. Let's have your company, or, if you please, haste there before us. I constantly do think, or rather, call my thought a certain knowledge. My brother Troilus lodges there tonight Rouse him and give him note of our approach

With the whole quality wherefore I fear we shall be much unwelcome That I assure you Troilus had rather Troy were born to Greece Than Cressid born from Troy There is no help The bitter disposition of the time will have it so On Lord, we'll follow you

Good morrow all Exit with servant And tell me, Noble Diagint Ayamed, faith, tell me true. Even in the soul of sound good fellowship, who in your thoughts merits fair hell and best, myself, or Menelaus? Both are like. He merits well to have her, that does seek her, not making any scruple of her solia. With such a hell of pain and world of charge and you as well to keep her, that defend her, not paleting the taste of her dishonour with such a costly loss of wealth and friends. He, like a purest,

huling cuckold would drink up the lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece. You, like a lecher, out of hoarish loins, are pleased to breed out your inheritors. Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more, but he as he, they're heavier for a whore. You are too bitter to your country woman. She's bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris. For every false drop in her baudy veins a Grecian's life have sunk, for every scruple of her contaminated carrion weight, atroval, Trojan hath been slain, since she could speak, she hath not given so many good words breath as for her Greeks and Trojans suffered death. Fair Diomed, you do as Chapman do.

Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy. But we, in silence, hold this virtue well. Will but commend what we intend to sell. Here lies our way. Axiant. Scene two. The same. Court of Pandarus's house.

Enter Troilus and Cressida Dear, trouble not yourself, the morning is cold. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down. He shall unboat the gates. Trouble him not. To bed, to bed! Sleep, kill, those pretty eyes, and give a soft attachment to my senses

as infants empty of all thought. Good morrow, then. I pray thee now, to bed. Are you weary of me? Oh, Cressida, but that the busy, day waked by the lark hath roused the ribbled crows, and dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee. Night hath been too brief.

But shrew the witch, with venomous whites 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. Oh, pretty Terry. You men will never tarry. Oh, foolish Cressid, I might have still held off, and then you would have tarried. Hark, there's one up. What? Saw the doors open here?

It is your uncle. Oh, a pestilence on him. Now will he be mocking. I shall have such a life. Enter Pandarus. How now, how now? How go maidenheads? Here you maid.

Where's my cousin Crescent? Go hang yourself, you naughty, mocking, uncle. You bring me to do, and then you flout me, too. To do what? To do what? Let her say what? What have I brought you to do? Come, come, besrew your heart. You'll ne'er be good, nor suffer others. Ha, ha, unless poor wretch, ah, poor capotea. Has not slept to-night? Would you not, a naughty man, let it sleep? A bug-bear take him. Did not I tell you? Would he were knocked to the head?

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. Ha-huh. Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing. How earnestly they knock. Pray you come in. I would not for half Troy have you seen here. Exciant Troilus and Cressida

Who's there? What's the matter? Will you beat down the door? How now? What's the matter? Enter Eneas. Good morrow, Lord, good morrow. Who's there? My lord Eneas, by my troth I knew you not. What news with you so early? Is not Prince Troilus here? What should he do here? Come, he is here, my lord. Do not deny him. It doth import him much to speak with me. 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? Who? Nay. Then come, come. You'll do him wrong ere you're aware. You'll be so true to him to be false to him. Do you not know of him? But yet go. Fetch him hither. Go. Re-enter Troilus.

How now? What's the matter? My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you. My matter is so rash. There is at hand, Paris, your brother, and Deipibus, the Grecian Diomed and Antenor delivered to us. And for him forthwith, ere the first sacrifice. Within this hour, we must give up to Diomedes' hand, the Lady Cressida. Is it so concluded? By Priam, and the general state of Troy. They are at hand and ready to affect it.

How my achievements mock me. I will go meet them. And, my Lord Anius, we met by chance. You did not find me here. Good, good, my lord. The secrets of nature have not more gift in Tassaternity. to axi and troilus and aeneas is possible no sooner got but loss the devil take antonor the young prince will go mad a plague upon antonor i would they had broke's neck re-enter chresida how now what's the matter who was here ah ah why sigh you so profoundly where's my lord gone tell me sweet uncle what's the matter would i were as deep under the earth as i am above

O the gods! What's the matter? Preeti, get thee in. What thou hast never been born. I knew thou wouldst be his death, O poor gentleman, a plague upon Antinor. Good uncle I beseech you, on my knees, beseech you, what's the matter? Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone, thou art changed for Antinor. Thou must to thy father and be gone from toiless. It will be his death, t'will be his bane, he cannot bear it.

O, you immortal gods, I will not go. Thou must. 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. Oh, you gods divine, make Crescids 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 center of the earth, drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep. Do, do. 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. Xient Scene three, the same. Street before Pandarus's house.

Enter Paris, Troilus, Aeneas, Deipibus, Antinor and Diomedes. It is great morning, and the hour prefixed of her delivery to this valiant Greek comes fast upon. Good, my brother Troilus, tell you the lady what she is to do, and haste her to the purpose. Walk into her house! I'll bring her to the Grecian presently. and to this hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar, And thy brother, Troilus,

A priest there offering to it his own heart. Exit. I know what tis to love, And would, as I shall pity, I could help. Please you walk in, my lords. Exeunt. Scene four. The same.

Pandarus House. Enter Pandarus and Cresida. Be moderate. Be moderate. 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. Here, here, here he comes. Enter Troilus. Ah, sweet ducks! Oh, Troilus! Troilus! Embracing him.

What a pair of spectacles is here? Let me embrace two, O heart, as the goodly saying is, Why sighs thou without breaking, where he answers again, Because thou canst not ease thy smart by friendship nor by speaking. there was never a truer rhyme 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 cressid i love thee and so strained to purity that the blessed gods as angry with my fancy more bright in zeal than the devotion which cold lips blow to their deities take thee from me. Have the gods envy? I, I, I, tis to play a case.

And is it true that I must go from Troy? A hateful truth. What, and from Troilus too? From Troy and Troilus. Is it possible? And suddenly, where injury of chance puts back leave-taking, jostles roughly by all time of pause, rudely begun. our lips of all rejoinder, forcibly prevents our locked embracers, strangles our dear vows,

even in the birth of our own laboring breath. We too, that with so many thousand sighs did buy each other, must poorly settle 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 consigned kisses to them, he fumbles up into a lucid dew, and scans us with a single famished kiss, distasted with the salt of broken tears. My lord, is the lady ready?

Ark, you are called. Some say the genius so cries come to him that instantly must die. Bid them have patience, she shall come anon. Where are my tears? Rain to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root. exit i must then to the grecians no remedy a woeful cressid monks the merry greeks when shall we see again hear me my love be thou but true of heart ay true how now what wicked deem is this nay we must use expostulation kindly for it is parting from us i speak not be thou truest 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. Oh, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers as infinite as imminent, but I'll be true. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve. And you, this glove, when shall I see you? I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels to give me nightly visitation. But yet be true. Oh, heavens, be true again.

Here, while I speak at love, the Grecian use are full of quality. They're loving, well composed 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 a fear. Oh, heavens, you love me not. Die I a villain, then?

In this, I do not call your faith in question so mainly as my merit. I cannot sing nor heal the high level, nor sweeten talk, nor play it subtle games. Fair virtues all to which the Grecians are my men. prompt and pregnant. But I can tell that in each grace of these there lurks a still and dumb discourse of devil that tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted.

Do you think I will? 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. Nay, good my lord. Lord. Come, kiss, and let us part.

Brother Troilus. Good brother, come you hither, and bring aneus in the Grecian with you. My lord, will you be true? Who, I? Alas, it is my vice, my fault. Whilst 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 bear. Fear not, my truth. The moral of my wit is plain and true.

There's all the reach of it. Enter Aeneas, Paris, Antenor, Deipabas, and Diomedes. Welcome, Sir Diomedes. 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 cressida and thy life shall be as safe as priam is in i am fair lady cressid so please you save the thanks this prince expects the luster in your eye heaven in your cheek pleads your fair usage and to Diomed you shall be mistress and command him wholly. 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 called 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. O be not moved, Prince Troilus. Let me be privileged 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 prized, but that you say, be it so, I'll speak it in my Spirit and honor, no. Come to the port.

I'll tell thee, Diamet, this brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. Lady, give me your hand. And as we walk to our own selves, bend we are needful talk. Exeunt Troilus, Cressida, and Diomedes. Trumpet within. Hark, Hector's trumpet. How have we spent this morning? The prince must think me tardy and remiss.

that saw to ride before him to the field. Tis Troilus' fault. Come. Come to field with him. Let us make ready straight. Yay, 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. Axiant. Scene 5. The Grecian camp. List set out. Enter Ajax. Armed. Agamemnon, Achilles, Petrochus, Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor, and others.

Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, anticipating time with starting courage. Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, thou dreadful Ajax, that the appalled air may pierce the head of the great combatant and hail him hither. Thou trumpet, there's my purse! Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe. Blow villain till thy spirit biased cheek out-swell the colic of puffed aquilon. Come, stretch thy chest and let thy eyes spout blood. Thou blowest for Hector. Trumpet sounds. No trumpet answers.

Tis for early days. Is not John Diomid with Calca's daughter? Tis he, I ken, the manner of his gait. He rises on the toe, that spirit of his in aspiration lifts him from the earth. Enter Diomedes with Cressida. Is this the Lady Crescid? Even she. Most dearly welcome to the Greek, sweet lady.

Our general doth salute you with a kiss. Yet is the kindness but particular, t'were better she were kissed in general. And very courtly counsel. I'll begin. So much for Nestor. I'll take what winter from your lips, fair lady. Achilles bid you welcome. I had good argument for kids. But that's no argument for kissing now, for this popped Paris in his hardament, and parted thus you and your argument.

O deadly gall and theme of all our scorns, for which we lose our heads to gild his horns. The first was Menelaus kiss. This mine. Patroclus kisses you. Oh, this is trim. Paris and I kiss ever more for him. for him. I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave. In kissing, do you render or receive? Both take and give? I'll make my match to live. The kiss you take is better than you give.

Therefore, no kiss. I'll give you boot. I'll give you three for one. You're an odd man. Give even or give none. An odd man, lady. Every man is odd. no paris is not for you know tis true that you are odd and he is even with you you fill up me at the head no i'll be sworn it were no match your nail against his horn may i sweet lady beg a kiss of you you may i do desire it why beg then why then for venus's sake give me a kiss when helen is a maid again and his. I am your debtor. Claim it when tis due. Never is my day, and then a kiss of you.

Lady, a word. I'll bring you to your father. Exit with Cressida. A woman of quick sense. Fie, fie upon her. There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, nay, her foot speaks. Her wanton spirits look out at every joint and motive of her

body. Oh, these encounterers so glib of tongue that give a costing welcome here it comes, and wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts to every ticklish reader, set them down for sluttish spoils of opportunity and daughters of the game. The Trojan's trumpet. The Trojan's trumpet. Jonder comes the troop. Enter Hector, armed, Ennius, Troilus, and other Trojan. with attendance. Hail, all you state of Greece.

What shall be done to him that victory commands? Or do you purpose a victor shall be known? Will you the knights shall to the edge of all extremity pursue each other? Or shall be divided by any voice or order of the field? Hector bade ask. Which way would Hector have it? Eka's not. You'll obey conditions.

Tis done like Hector, but securely done. A little proudly and great deal misprud. the knight opposed. If not Achilles, sir, what is your name? If not Achilles, nothing. Therefore Achilles. But whate'er know this? In the extremity of great and little,

Thala and pride excel themselves in Hector. The one almost as infinite as all, the other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, and that which looks like pride is courtesy. This age acts is half made of Hector's blood. In love whereof, half Hector's, stays at home. Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek. This blended night, half

Trojan, and half Greek. A maiden battle, then. Oh, I perceive you. Re-enter Diomedes. Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight, stand by our Ajax, as you and Lord Ennius consent upon the order of their fight. So be it, either to the uttermost or else a breath the combatant's, being kin, half stints their strife before their strokes begin. Ajax and Hector enter the lists. They are opposed already. What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy? The youngest son of Priam, a true knight, not yet mature, yet matchless,

firm of word speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue, not soon provoked nor being provoked soon calmed, his heart and hand both open and both free. For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows, yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, nor dignifies an impure thought with breath. Manly as Hector, but more dangerous. For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes to tender objects,

but he, in heat of action, is more vindicative than jealous love. They call him Troilus, and on him erect a second hope, as fairly built as Hector. Thus says Enyaus, one that knows the youth even to his inches, and with private soul did in Great Ilian thus translate him to me. Alarum, Hector and Ajax fight. They are in action. Now, Ajax, hold thine own. Hector thou sleepst.

Awake thee. His blows are well-disposed. There I ax. You must know more. Trumpets cease. Prince is enough, so you please. I am not warm yet. Let us fight again. As Hector pleases.

Why, then will I know more? Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, a cousin German to great Priam's seed, the obligation of our blood forbids a gory emulation twixt us twain. Were thy commixian, Greek and Trojan, So that thou couldst say, This hand is Grecianol, and this is Trojan, The sinews of this leg all Greek, and this all Troy,

My mother's blood runs on the dexter cheek, And this sinister bounds in my fathers. By Jove, multipotent, Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member wherein my sword had not impressure made of our rank feud. But the just gods gainsay that any day, drop, thou borrowed from thy mother, my sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword be drained. Let me embrace the Ajax. By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms, Hector would have them

fall upon him thus. Cousin, all honor to thee. I thank thee, Hector. Thou are too gentle and too free a man. I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence a great addition earned it in thy death. Not Neotolomus so mirable On whose bright crest fame With her loudest Oye's cries This is he Could promise to himself A thought of added honour torn from Hector

There is expectance here From both the sides What further will you do? We'll answer it The issue is Embracement Ajax, farewell If I might in entreaties find success

as seldom I have the chance, I would desire my famous cousin to our Grecian tents. Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles doth long to see unarmed the valiant Hector. Eneas, call my brother Troilus to me, and signify this loving interview to the expectors of our Trojan part. Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin. I will go eat with thee and see your knights. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here. the worthiest of them tell me name by name but for achilles mine own searching eyes shall find him by his large and portly size worthy of arms as welcome as to one that would be rid of such an enemy but that's no welcome understand more clear what's past and what's to come is strewd with husks and formless ruin of oblivion

but in this extant moment faith and troth strained purely from all hollow by astroying bids thee with most divine integrity from heart of very heart great hector welcome I thank the most imperious Agamemnon. To Troilus. My well-famed Lord of Troy, no less to you. Let me confirm my princely brothers greeting. You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither. Who must we answer? The noble Menelaus.

Oh, you, my lord. By Mars his gauntlet, thanks. Mock not that I affect the untraded oath. Your quantum wife swears still by Ville. Venus glove. She's well. But bad may not commend her to you. Name her not now, sir. She's a deadly theme. No pardon, I offend. I have thou gallant Trojan seen thee oft, laboring for destiny, make cruel way through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have seen thee as hot as pursuice, spur thy Phrygian steed, despising many forfeits and subduements. When thou hast hung thy advanced sword in the air,

"'not letting it decline on the declined, "'that I have said to some of my standers by, "'Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life. "'Then I have seen thee pause and take thy breath, "'when that a ring of Greeks have hemmed thee in, "'like an Olympian wrestling. "'This have I seen. "'But this thy countenance,

"'still locked in steel, I never saw till now. "'I knew thy grandson, and once fought with him, "'he was a soldier good. but by great Mars the captain of us all never saw like thee. Let an old man embrace thee, and worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. Tis the old Nestor. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, that hast so long walked hand in hand with time. Most reverend Nestor I am glad to clasp thee.

I would my arms could match the incontention as they contend with thee in courtesy. I would they could. Ha! By this white beard, I'd fight with thee tomorrow. Well, welcome, welcome. I have seen the time. I wonder now how Yonder City stands when we have here, her base and pillar by us.

I know your favour, Lord Ulysses well. Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, since first I saw yourself and Diomed, in Ilian on your Greekish embassy. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue. My prophecy is but half his journey yet, for yonder walls that pertly front your town, yon'd towers whose wanton tops do bust the clouds,

must kiss their own feet. I must not believe you. There they stand yet, and modestly, I think, the fall of every Phrygian stone will cost a drop of Grecian, blood. The end crowns all, and that old common arbitrator time will one day end it. So to him we leave it. Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome. After the general, I beseech you next to feast with me and see me at my tent. I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses thou. Now Hector, I have fed mine eye on thee.

I have with exact view pursued thee Hector and quoted joint by joint. Is this Achilles? I am Achilles. Stand fair, I pray thee, let me look on thee. Behold thy fill. Nay, I have done already. Thou art too brief. I will the second time as I would by thee view thee limb by limb.

Oh, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er. But there's more in me than thou understandst. Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body shall I destroy him? whether there or there or there that i may give the local wound a name and make distinct the very breach where out hector's great spirit flew answer me heavens it would discredit the blessed god's proud man to answer such a question stand again think's thou to catch my life so pleasantly as to predominate in nice conjecture where thou wilt hit me dead i tell thee yea Wurt thou an oracle to tell me so, I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well, for I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there,

but by the forge that stithed Mars' helm, I'll kill thee everywhere, yea, o'er and o'er. You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag, his insolence draws folly from my lips, but I'll endeavor deeds to match these words, or may I never— Do not chafe thee, cousin, and you, Achilles, let these things, threats alone, till accident or purpose bring you to it. You may have every day enough of Hector if you have stomach. The general state, I fear, can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. I pray you, let us see you in the field. We have had pelting wars since you refused the Grecian's cause. Does thou entreat me, Hector? Tomorrow do I meet thee, fell as death. Tonight, all friends.

The hand upon that match. first all of your peers of greece go to my tent there in the full convoy we afterwards as hector's leisure and your bounties shall concur together severally entreat him beat loud the tambourines let the trumpets blow that this great soldier may his welcome now aksient all except troilus and ulysses my lord ulysses tell me i beseech you in what place of the field doth calchas keep at manilaeus tent most princely their diomed doth feast with him to-night who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth but gives all gaze and bent of amorous view on the fair cressid shall sweet lord be bound to you so much after we part from agamemnon's tent to bring me thither you shall command me sir as gentle tell me of what honour was this cressida in troy had she no lover there that wales her absence O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars a mock is due. We walk on, my lord.

She was, beloved, she loved. She is and doth. But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth. Exeunt. End of Act 4. Act 5 of Troilus and Cressida. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Troilus and Cressida, by William Shakespeare.

Act 5. Scene 1. The Grecian camp, before Achilles' tent. Enter Achilles and Petroclos. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow. Petroclos, let us feast him to the height. Here comes Thucydes.

Enter Thurcites. How now thou core of envy, thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news? Why, thou picture of what thou seeth, an idol of idiot worshippers. Here's a letter for thee. From whence, fragment? Why, their full dish of fool, from Troy?

Who keeps the tent now? The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound. Well said adversity. And what need these tricks? Pri thee, be silent, boy. I'd profit not by thy talk. They were thought to be Achilles' male valet. Male varlet, you rogue?

What's that? Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of the south, the guts griping, ruptures, catars, loads of gravel in the back, letharges, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt rotten livers,

wheezing lungs, bladders full of impostude, sciaticas, lime kilns ear the palm, incurable boneache, and the rivalled fee simple of the teta, take and take again such preposterous discoveries. Why thou damnable box of envy thou, what meanest thou to curse thus? Do I curse thee? Why no, you ruinous but you horse unindistinguishable cur? No.

No, why art thou then exact? aspirate thou idle immaterial skein of sleeved silk, thou green-thastened it flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such water flies, dominatives of nature. Out call. Finch egg.

My sweet patroclus, I am thwarted quite from my great purpose in tomorrow's battle. Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, a token from her daughter, my fair love, both taxing me and gauging me to keep an oath that I have sworn. I will not break it. Full Greeks, fail fame, honour or go or stay. My major vow lies here, this I'll obey. Come, come, Thasites. Help to trim my tent. This night in banqueting must all be spent. Away, Petroclis. Axi and Achilles and Patroclus. With too much blood and too little brain, these two may run mad, but if with too much brain and too little blood they do, I'll be a cure of madman.

He is Agabemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he has not so much brain as earwax, and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the primitive statue and oblique memorial of cuckold, a thrifty shoeing horn in a chain hanging at his brother's leg. To what form but that he is should Wick larded with malice, and malice forced with Wick turn him to? To an ass, we're nothing. He is both S and ox, to an ox we're nothing.

He is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a ptick, or a herring without a row, I would not care. But to be Manilaeus, I would conspire against destiny. Ask me not what I would be if I were not Thirt Scytes, for I care not to be the last, of Elisha, so I will not Menelaus. Hey day, spirits and fires. Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Neus, Menelaus, and Diomedes, with lights. We go wrong, we go wrong. No, yonder tis, there where we see the lights. I trouble you. No, not a wit.

Here comes himself to guide you. Re-enter Achilles. Welcome, brave Hector. Welcome, Princess all. So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good night. I ax commands the guard to tend on you. Thanks and good night to the Greeks general. Good night, my lord. Good night, sweet Lord Manilaus. Sweet graft, sweet quaster, sweet sink, sweet sewer. Good night, and welcome both at once to those that go out Harry. Good night. Axi and Agamemnon and Manilaus.

Old Nestor Tarius and you two Diomed. Keep Hector company an hour or two. I cannot, Lord. I have important business. The tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector. Give me your hand. Aside to Troilus. Follow his torch. He goes to Calchus' tent.

I'll keep you company. Sweet sir, you honor me. And so, good night. Exit Diomedes, Ulysses and Troilus following. Come, come, enter my tent. Axi and Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and Nestor. That same diamond's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust dave. I will no more trust him when he leers that I will a serpent when he hisses.

He will spend his mouth and promise like Bramber the Hound. But when he performs, astronomers foretell it, it is prodigious. There will come some change. The sun borrows of the bearers. when Diamid keeps his word. I will rather leave to see Hector than not to dog him. They say he keeps a Trojan drab and uses the traitor Calchas tent. All after, nothing but literary, all incontinent varlet. Exit

Scene 2. The same before Calcas tent. Enter Diomedes. What? Are you up here? Ho! Speak! Who calls? Calcas, I think? Where's your daughter? She comes to you. Enter Troilus and Ulysses at a distance. After them, Thersites. Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Enter Crescid comes forth to him. How now, my charge? Now, my sweet guardian. Hark, a word with you. Yay, so familiar. She will sing any man at first sight. And any man may sing her if he can take her cliff, she's noted. Will you remember? Remember?

Yes. Nay, but do then. And let your mind be coupled with your words. What should she remember? List. Oh, sweet honey, Greek, tempt me no more to folly. Ruggery. Nay, then.

I'll tell you what. Foe, foe, come, tell a pin, you are foresworn. In faith I cannot. What would you have me do? A juggling trick, to be sacredly open. What did you swear you would bestow on me? I prithee do not hold me to mine oath. Bid me do anything but that, sweet Greek.

Good night. Hold, patience. How now, Trojan. Diomed. No, no, good. Night. I'll be your fool no more. Thy better must. Hark, one word in your ear.

Oh, plague and madness. You are moved, Prince. Let us depart, I pray you, lest your displeasure should enlarge itself to wrathful terms. This place is dangerous. The time break deadly. I beseech you, go. Behold, I pray you. Nay, good, my lord, go off. You flow to great distraction. Come, my lord.

I pray thee, stay. You have not patience. Come. I pray you stay. By hell and hell's torments, I will not speak a word. And so, good night. Nay, but you part in anger. Doth that grieve thee? O, withered truth.

Why, how now, Lord? By Job, I will be patient. Guardian. Why Greek? Foe, foe, adieu, you paltar. In faith, I do not. Come hither once again. you shake my lord at something will you go you will break out she strokes his cheek come come nay stay by jove i will not speak a word there is between my will and all offences a guard of patience stay a little while ere the devil luxury with his fat rump and potato finger tickles these together fry letcherie fry but will you then

In faith, I will. La, never trust me else. Give me some token for the surety of it. I'll vet you one. Exit. You have sworn patience. Fear me not, sweet lord. I will not be myself or have cognition of what I feel. I am all patience.

Re-enter Cressida. Near the pledge. There, now, now, now. Here, Diamond, keep the sleeve. Oh, beauty. Where is thy faith? My lord? I will be patient.

Outwardly I will. You look upon that sleeve. Behold it well. He loved me. Oh, false wench. Give it me again. Who's wast? It is no matter.

Now I have it again. I will not meet with you tomorrow night. I pray thee, Diomed, visit me no more. Now she sharpens. Will said, Whits down. I shall have it. What? This?

I, that. Oh, all you gods. Oh, pretty, pretty pledge. Thy master now lies thinking in his bed of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove and gives memorial dainty kisses to it, as I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me. He that takes that doth take my heart withal.

I had your heart before. This follows it. I did swear patience. You shall not have it, Diamet, Faith, you shall not. I'll give you something else. I will have this. Whose was it? It is no matter.

Come, tell me whose it was. T'was ones that loved me better than you will. But now you have it. Take it. Whose was it? By all Diana's waiting women yawned and by herself. I will not tell you whose. Tomorrow will I wear it on my helm

And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it Wethaw the devil and worst it on my hall It should be challenged Well, well tis done Tis past And yet it is not I will not keep my word Why then, farewell

Thoult never shalt mock Diomed again You shall not go One cannot speak a word But it straight starts you I do not like this fooling. Nor I by Pluto, but that that likes not you pleases me best. What shall I come? The hour? I. Come.

Oh, Jove. Do come. I shall be plagued. Farewell till then. Good night. I prithee come. Exit Diomedes. Ah! Troilus. Farewell.

one eye yet looks on thee but with my heart the other eye doth see ah poor our sex this fault in us i find the error of our eye directs our mind what error leads must err o then conclude minds swayed by eyes are full of turpitude exit a press of straight she could not publish more unless she said my mind is now turned whore all's done my lord it is why stay we then to make a recordation to my soul of every syllable that he was spoke but if i tell how these two did co-act shall i not lie in publishing a truth sith yet there is a credence in my heart an aspirant so obstinately strong that Doth invert the attestive eyes and ears, as if those organs had deceptuous functions created only to calumniate. Was Cressid here? I cannot conjure, Trojan. She was not sure.

Most sure she was. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness? Nor mine, my lord. Cressid was here but now. Let it not be believed for womanhood. Think we had mothers. Do we not give advantage to stubborn critics Act without a theme for deprivation to square the general sex by Crescid's rule? Rather think this not Crescid.

What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our mothers? Nothing at all unless that this was she! Would he swagger himself out on his own eyes? This, she, no, this is diameds, Cressida. If beauty have a soul, this is not. not she. If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimony, if sanctimony be the God's delight, if there be rule in unity itself, this is not she? Oh, madness of discourse that sets up with and against itself!

Bifold authority where reason can revolt without perdition and loss assume all reason without revolt. This is and is not Cressina. within my soul there doth conduce a fight of this strange nature that a thing inseparable divides more wider than the sky and earth and yet the spacious breadth of this division admits no orefx for a point as subtle as ariacne's broken wolf to enter instance oh instance strong as pluto's gates crescent is mine tied with the bonds of heaven instance oh instance strong as heaven itself the bonds of heaven are slipped dissolved and loosed and with another knot five finger tied the fractions of her faith orts of her love the fragments scraps the bits and greasy relics of her oar-eaten faith are bound to may worthy troilus be half attached with that which here his passion doth express ay greek and that shall be divulged well in characters as red as mars his heart inflamed with venus never did young man fancy was so eternal and so fixed a soul hark greek as much as i do cressid love so much by weight i hate her diomed that sleeve is mine that he'll bear on his helm were at a cask composed by Vulcan's skill my sword should bite it not for the dreadful spout would shipmen do the hurricaneocall constringed in mass by the almighty sun shall dizzy and more clamour neptune's ear in his descent than shall my prompted sword falling on diamond he'll tickle it for his concupy

O Crescent, oh false Crescent, false, false, false! Let all unfroof stand by thy stainted name and thou seem glorious. O contain yourself, your passion draws ears hither. Enter Aeneas. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord. Hector by this is arming him in Troy. Ajax, your guard stays to conduct you home. Have with you, prince.

My credulous lorded you. Farewell, revolted fair, and diameds stand fast and wear a castle on my head. I'll bring you to the gates. Except distracted things. Axi and Troilus, Aeneas and Ulysses. Would I could meet that rogue diamids? I would croak like a raven. I would bode.

I would bode. Petroclos will give me anything for the intelligence of this war. The parrot will not do more for. in almond than he for a commodious drab. Letchery. Letchery, still wars and lechery, nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil, take them. Exit. Scene three. Troy, before Priam's palace. Enter Hector and Andromache. When was my lord so much ungentle-tempered to stop his ears against admonishment? An arm, an arm, and do not fight today. You train me to offend you.

Get you in. By all the everlasting gods, I'll go. My dreams will sure prove ominous to the day. No more, I say. Enter Cassandra. Where is my brother Hector? Here, sister, armed and bloody in intent. Consult with me in loud and dear petition, Pursue him on knees, for I have dreamed of bloody

turbulence, and this whole night has nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter. Oh, tis true. Oh, bid my trumpet sound. No notes of sally for the heaven, sweet brother. Be gone, I say, the gods have heard me swear. The gods are deaf to heart and peevish vows. They are polluted offerings, more abhorred than spotted livers in the sacrifice. Oh, be persuaded.

Do not count it wholly to hurt by being just. It is as lawful, for we would give much to use violent thefts and rob in the behalf of charity. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow, but vows to every purpose must not hold, unarm, sweet Hector. Hold you still, I say. Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate. Life every man holds dear, but the brave man holds honour far more precious deer than life. Enter Troilus.

How now, young man, means'st thou to fight today? Cassandra, call my father to persuade. Exit Cassandra. No, faith, young Troilus, doff thy harness, youth. I am today in the vein of chivalry. Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong, and tempt not yet the brushes of the war. Unarm thee, go, and doubt thou not, brave boy,

I'll stand today for thee and me and Troy. brother you have a vice of mercy in you which better fits a lion than a man what vice is that good troilus chide me for it when many times the captive grecian falls even in the fan and wind of your fair sword you bid them rise and live oh tis fair play by heaven hector how now how now for the love of all the gods let's leave the hermit pity with our mothers and when we have our armors buckled on the venomed vengeance ride upon our swords. Spur them to rueful work and reign them from Ruth. Fye. Savage. Fy! Hector! Then tis wars! Troilus, I would not have you fight today. Who should withhold me? Not fate, obedience, nor the head of Mars beckoning with fiery trunch in my retire, nor Primus and Hacuba on knees, their eyes o'er galled with recourse of tears, nor you, my brother, your true sword drawn opposed to hinder me should stop my way but by my ruin re-enter cassandra with priam lay hold upon him priam hold him fast he is thy crutch now if thou lose thy stay thou on him leaning and all troy on thee fall all together

Come, Hector, come, go back. Thy wife hath dreamed, thy mother hath had visions, Cassandra doth foresee, and I myself am like a prophet suddenly enwrapped to tell thee that this day is ominous. Therefore, come back. Eneas is a field, and I do stand engaged to many Greeks, even in the faith of valor, to appear this morning to them. I, but thou shalt not go. I must not break my faith. You know me dutiful. Therefore, dear sir, let me not shame, respect,

but give me leave to take that course by your consent and voice, which you do here forbid me, Royal Priam. Oh, Priam yield not to him. Do not, dear father. Andromachy, I am offended with you. Upon the love you bear me, get you in. Exit Andromarchy. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl makes all these boatments. Farewell, dear Hector. Look how the diast. Look how thy eye turns pale.

Look how thy wounds do bleed at many vents. Hark, how Troy rolls. How Hercuba cries out. How poor Andrew Maggie shrills her doll as forth. Behold, distraction, frenzy and amazement, like witless antics, one another meet, and all cry, Hector. Hector's dead, oh Hector! Away! Away!

Farewell, yet soft. Hector, take my leave. Thou dost thyself and all our try deceive. Exit. You are amazed, my liege, at her exclaim. Go in and cheer the town, will forth and fight, do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night. Farewell. The gods with safety stand about thee.

Exient severally, Priam and Hector. Allurums. They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed believe I come to lose my arm or win my sleeve. Enter Pandarus. Do you hear, my lord? Do you hear? What now? Here's a letter come from yon poor girl. Let me read.

A horse in Tizek. A horse in Vasclay Tizek so troubles me. and the foolish fortune of this girl and what one thing what another that i shall leave you one o these days and i have a room in mine eyes too and such an ache of my bones that unless a man were cursed i cannot tell what to think on't what says she there words words mere words no matter from the heart the effect doth operate the other way tearing the letter go wind to wind Their turn and change together. My love with words and errors still she feeds, but edifies another with her deeds. Exeunt severally. Scene four.

Plains between Troy and the Grecian camp. Alarums. Excursions. Enter Thorsites. Now they are clapper-cloring each other. I'll go look on. That the sembling abominable valet's Diomed has got the same scurvy, doting, foolish young Knave's sleeve of Troy there in his helm.

I would fain see the meat that that same young Trojan ass that loves the whore there might send that Greekish whore-mastery villain with the sleeve back to the dissembling luxurious drab of a sleeveless errand. On the other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals, that stale old mouth-eaten dried cheese, nester, and that same dog fox, Ulysses, is not prove worthy of Blackberry. They set me up in policy that mongrel Kurt Ajax against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles. And there is the Kurt Ajax prouder than the Kurt Achilles, and will not arm today. Whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism

And policy grows into an ill opinion Soft, here comes sleeve and t'other Enter Diomedes, Troilus following Fly not! For shouldst thou take the river'stick? I would swim after! Thou dost miscall retire. I do not fly, but advantageous care withdrew me from the odds of multitude. Have at thee. Hold thy whore, Grecian, now for. for thy whore Trojan,

Now the sleeve, now the sleeve. Axi and Troilus and Diomedes, fighting. Enter Hector. What art thou, Greek? Art thou for Hector's match? Art thou of blood and honour? No, no, I'm a rascal.

A scurvy railing knave, A very filthy rogue. I do believe thee. Live. Exit. God of mercy, that thou wilt believe me, but a plague break thy neck for frightened they be. What's become of the wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another.

I would laugh at that miracle, yet in a sort letry eat itself. I'll seek them. Exit. Scene 5. Another part of the plains. Enter Diomedes and a servant. Go, go my servant, take their trialless horse. Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid. Fellow, commend my service to her beauty. Tell her I have chastised the amorous Trojan, and am her knight by proof. I go, my lord. Exit.

Enter Agamemnon. Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas hath bit down menom. Bastard Margarlon hath Doreus prisoner, and stands colossus-wise waving his beam upon the pashed courses of the king's epistrophous and cedias. polyxenis slain amphimachus and thaw us deadly hurt patroclus tain or slain and palamedus sore hurt and bruised the dreadful sagittary appalls our numbers haste we diomed to reinforcement or we perish all enter nestor "'Go bear Patroclus' body to Achilles, "'and bid the snail-paste Ajax arm for shame.

"'There is a thousand hectares in the field. "'Now here he fights on Galathay, his horse, "'and there lacks work, anon he's there afoot, "'and there they fly or die like scaled skulls before the belching whale. "'Then is he yonder, "'and there the stroy Greeks right for his edge fall down before him, like the mower's swath. Here, there, and everywhere he leaves and takes, dexterity so obeying appetite that what he will he does, and does so much that proof is called

impossibility. Enter Ulysses. Oh, courage, courage, princes. Great Achilles is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance. Patroclus wounds have roused his drowsy blood, together with his mangled mermodons that noseless, handless, hacked and chipped, come to him, crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend and foams at mouth, and he is armed and at it, roaring for Troilus, who hath done today mad and fantastic execution, engaging and redeeming of himself, with such a careless force and forseless care, as if that luck, in very spite of cunning, bad him win all. Enter Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus.

Exit. Aye, there, there. So, so, we draw together. Enter Achilles. Where is this Hector? Come, come now, boy, Quela, show thy face. Know what it is to meet Achilles, angry. Hector?

Where's Hector? I will none but Hector. Xient. Scene 6. Another part of the plane. Enter Ajax. Troilus, thou coward, Troilus, show thy head. Enter Diomedes.

Troilus, I say, where's Troilus? What wouldst thou? I would correct him. Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office, ere that correction. Troilus, I say, what, Troilus? Enter Troilus. Oh, traitor, Diamad! Turn thy false face, thou traitor, and pay the life thou oest me for my horse.

Ha, art thou there? I'll fight with him alone, stand, Diomed. He is my prize, I will not look upon. Come both you cogging Greeks, how that you both! Axiant, fighting. Enter Hector. Yea, Troilus? Oh, well fought, my youngest brother.

Enter Achilles. Now do I see thee, ha, hafeth hector. Pause, if thou wilt. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan. Be happy that my arms are out of use. My rest and negligence befriends thee now, But thou anon shall hear of me again. Till when, go seek thy fortune.

Exit. Fair thee well. I would have been much more a fresher man had I expected thee. How now, my brother? Re-enter Troilus. Ajaxeth Thainanius, shall it be? No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven, he shall not care. him I'll be tame too or bring him off fate hear me what I say I reck not though I end my life

today exit enter one in sumptuous armor stand stand thou Greek thou art a goodly mark no wilt thou not I like thy armor well I'll frush it and unlock the rivets all but I'll be master of it wilt thou not beast abide why then fly on on i'll hunt thee for thy hide exeant scene seven another part of the plains enter achilles with mermedons come here about me you my mermodons mark what i say attend me where i wheel strike not a stroke but keep yourselves in breath and when i have the bloody hector found impale him with your weapons round about in fellest manner execute your aims follow me sir and my proceedings aye, it is decreed Hector the Great must die. Exeot. Enter Menelaus and Paris, fighting.

Then Thursites. The cuckold and the cuckold makers are at it. Now bull, now dog. Lou, Paris, Lou. Now my doubled hen sparrow. Lou, Paris, Lou. The bull has the game. We're horns.

Excient Paris and Vanillaeus. Enter Margarelin. Turn slave and fight. What art thou? A bastard son of Priams. I am a bastard too. I love bastards. I'm a bastard begot,

bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, and everything illegitimate. One bear will not buy another and wherefore should one bastard? Take heed. The quarrel's most ominous to us. If the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment. Farewell, bastard. Exit. The devil take thee, coward. Exit.

Scene 8. Another part of the plains. Enter Hector. Most putrefied core so fair without, Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. Now is my day's work done, I'll take good breath. Rest, sword, thou hast thy fill of blood and death. Puts off his helmet, and hangs his shield behind him. Enter Achilles and Mermedons. Look Hector, how the sun begins to set.

How ugly night comes breathing at his heels, even with the veil and darking of the sun to close the day up, Hector's life is done. I am unarmed. Forgo this vantage, Greek. Strike, fellows, strike. This is the man I seek. Hector falls. So, Ileon, fall thou next. Now Troy sink down. Here lies thy heart, thy sinews and thy bone. On Mermedons, and cry you all amain.

Achilles hath the mighty Hector. A retreat sounded. Hark! A retire upon our Grecian part. The Trojan trumpet sound alike, my lord. The dragon wing of night o'ers spreads the earth, and stickler-like the army separates. My half-supped sword that frankly would have fed, pleased with this dainty bait thus goes to bed. Sheathes his sword. Come, tie his body to my horse's tail.

Along the field I will the Trojan trail. Xient. Scene 9. Another part of the plains. Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Manilaus, Nestor, Diomedes and others, marching. Shouts within. Hark! Hark! What shout is that? Peace drums!

Achilles! Achilles! Hector Slain! Achilles! The brute is, Hector's slain and by Achilles. If it be so, yet Bragless let it be. Great Hector was a man as good as he. March patiently along.

Let one be sent to pray Achilles see us at our tent. If in his death the gods have us befriended, Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. Xient, marching. Scene 10. Another part of the plains. Enter Ennius and Trojans. Stand ho, yet are we masters of the field?

Never go home. Here starve we out the night. Enter Troilus. Hector is slain. Hector, the gods forbid. He's dead, and at the murderer's horse's tail in beastly sort, dragged through the shameful field! Frown on you heavens!

effect your rage with speed. Sit gods upon your thrones and smite it, Troy. I say it once, let your brief plagues be mercy and linger not our sure destruction's on. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. You understand me not that tell me so. I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death,

but dare all imminence that gods and men address their dangers in. Hector is gone. Who shall tell Priam so? Or Hacuba. Let him that will screech an owl I be called. Go into Troy and say their Hector is dead. There is a word will Priam turn to stone.

Make wells of Niobees of the maids and wives. Cold statues of the youth end in a word scare Troy out of itself. But march away. Hector is dead, there is no more to say. Stay yet. You vile, abominable tents, thus proudly pitched upon our Phrygian plains. Let Titan rise as early as he dare,

All through and through you! And thou great-sized coward, No space of earth, You'll sunder our two hates. I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still That moldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts. strike a free march to troy with comfort go hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe xient aeneas send trojans as troilus is going out enter from the other side pandarus but hear you hear you hence broker lackey and give ye in shame pursue thy life and live i with thy name exit

a goodly medicine for my aching bones o world world world thus is the poor agent despised o traitors and bauds how earnestly are you set i work and how ill requited why should our endeavour be so loved and the performance so loathed what verse for it what instance for it let me see full merrily the humble bee doth sing till he hath lost his honey and his sting and being once subdued and armoured tail sweetly honey and sweet notes together fail good traders in the flesh set this in your painted cloths as many as be here of panders hall your eyes half out weep out at panders fall or if you cannot weep yet give some groans though not for me yet for your aching bones brethren and sisters of the whole door trade some two months hence my will shall here be made it should be now but that my fear is this some galled goose of winchester would hiss till then i'll sweat and seek about for eases and at that time bequeath you my diseases exit end of act five end of troilus and cressida by william shakespeare