TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA Troilus and Cressida, first heard of in a Stationers’ Register entry of 7 February 1603, was probably written within the previous eighteen months. This entry did not result in publication; the play was re-entered on 28 January 1609, and a quarto appeared during that year. The version printed in the 1623 Folio adds a Prologue, and has many variations in dialogue. It includes the epilogue spoken by Pandarus (which we print as an Additional Passage), but certain features of the text suggest that it does so by accident, and that the epilogue had been marked for omission. Our text is based in substance on the Folio in the belief that this represents the play in its later, revised form. The story of the siege of Troy was the main subject of one of the greatest surviving works of classical literature, Homer’s Iliad, probably Shakespeare read George Chapman’s 1598 translation of Books 1―2 and 7―11. The story also figures prominently in Virgil’s Aeneid and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, both of which Shakespeare knew well. The war between Greece and Troy had been provoked by the abduction of the Grecian Helen (better, if confusingly, known as Helen of Troy) by the Trojan hero Paris, son of King Priam. Shakespeare’s play opens when the Greek forces, led by Menelaus’ brother Agamemnon, have already been besieging Troy for seven years. Shakespeare concentrates on the opposition between the Greek hero Achilles and the Trojan Hector. In the Folio, Troilus and Cressida is printed among the tragedies; if there is a tragic hero, it is Hector. Shakespeare also shows how the war caused by one love affair destroys another. The stories of the love between the Trojan Troilus and the Grecian Cressida, encouraged by her uncle Pandarus, and of Cressida’s desertion of Troilus for the Greek Diomedes, are medieval additions to the heroic narrative. Chaucer’s long poem Troilus and Criseyde was already a classic, and Shakespeare would also have known Robert Henryson’s continuation, The Testament of Cresseid, in which Cressida, deserted by Diomedes, dwindles into a leprous beggar. Troilus and Cressida is a demanding play, Shakespeare’s third longest, highly philosophical in tone and with an exceptionally learned vocabulary. Possibly (as has often been conjectured) he wrote it for private performance; the 1603 Stationers’ Register entry says it had been acted by the King’s Men, and the original title-page of the 1609 quarto repeats this claim, but while the edition was being printed this title-page was replaced by one that does not mention performance, and an epistle was added claiming that it was ‘a new play, never staled with the stage, never clapper-clawed with the palms of the vulgar’. An adaptation by John Dryden of 1679 was successfully acted from time to time for half a century, but the first verified performance of Shakespeare’s play was in Germany in 1898, and that was heavily adapted. Troilus and Cressida came into its own in the twentieth century, when its deflation of heroes, its radical questioning of human values (especially in relation to love and war), and its remorseless examination of the frailty of human aspirations in the face of the destructive powers of time seemed particularly apposite to modern intellectual and ethical preoccupations. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY PROLOGUE Trojans PRIAM, King of Troy CASSANDRA, Priam’s daughter, a prophetess ANDROMACHE, wife of Hector PANDARUS, a lord CRESSIDA, his niece CALCHAS, her father, who has joined the Greeks HELEN, wife of Menelaus, now living with Paris ALEXANDER, servant of Cressida Servants of Troilus, musicians, soldiers, attendants Greeks AGAMEMNON, Commander-in-Chief MENELAUS, his brother NESTOR ULYSSES ACHILLES PATROCLUS, his companion DIOMEDES AJAX THERSITES MYRMIDONS, soldiers of Achilles Servants of Diomedes, soldiers

Troilus and Cressida

Prologue Enter the Prologue armed PROLOGUE In Troy there lies the scene. From isles of Greece The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed, Have to the port of Athens sent their ships, Fraught with the ministers and instruments Of cruel war. Sixty-and-nine, that wore Their crownets regal, from th‘Athenian bay Put forth toward Phrygia, and their vow is made To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures The ravished Helen, Menelaus’ queen, With wanton Paris steeps—and that’s the quarrel. To Tenedos they come, And the deep-drawing barques do there disgorge Their warlike freightage; now on Dardan plains The fresh and yet unbruisèd Greeks do pitch Their brave pavilions. Priam’s six-gated city— Dardan and Timbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien, And Antenorides—with massy staples And corresponsive and full-filling bolts Spar 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 armed—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 o’er 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 fault; do as your pleasures are; Now, good or bad, ’tis but the chance of war. Exit

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus, and Troilus armed
TROILUS	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 Betd—Troitus, alas, hath none.
PANDARUS	Will this gear ne’er be mended?
TROILUS	The Greeks are strong, and skilful 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 skilless as unpractised infancy.
PANDARUS	Well, I have told you enough of this. For my part, I’ll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding.
TROILUS	Have I not tarried?
PANDARUS	Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the boulting.
TROILUS	Have I not tarried?
PANDARUS	Ay, the boulting; but you must tarry the leavening.
TROILUS	Still have I tarried.
PANDARUS	Ay, to the leavening; but here’s yet in the word ‘hereafter’ the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating the oven, and the baking—nay, you must stay the cooling too, or ye may chance burn your lips.
TROILUS	Patience herself, what goddess e‘er she be, Doth lesser blench at suff’rance than I do. At Priam’s royal table do I sit And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts— So, traitor! ‘When she comes’? When is she thence?
PANDARUS	Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
TROILUS	I was about to tell thee: 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 askance, Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile. But sorrow that is couched in seeming gladness Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
PANDARUS	An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen‘s—well, go to, 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 dispraise your sister Cassandra’s wit, but—
TROILUS	O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus, When I do tell thee ‘There my hopes lie drowned’, Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie endrenched. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid’s love; thou answer’st ‘She is fair’, Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice; Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure The cygnet’s down is harsh, and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman. This thou tell’st me— As true thou tell‘st me—when I say I love her. But saying thus, instead of oil and balm Thou lay’st in every gash that love hath given me The knife that made it.
PANDARUS	I speak no more than truth.
TROILUS	Thou dost not speak so much.
PANDARUS	Faith, I’ll not meddle in it. Let her be as she is. If she be fair, ’tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.
TROILUS	Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus!
PANDARUS	I have had my labour for my travail. Ill thought on of her and ill thought on of you. Gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.
TROILUS	What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with me?
PANDARUS	Because she’s kin to me, therefore she’s not so fair as Helen. An she were not kin to me, she would be as fair o’ Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a blackamoor. ’Tis all one to me.
TROILUS	Say I she is not fair?
PANDARUS	I do not care whether you do or no. She’s a fool to 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 i’th’ matter.
TROILUS	Pandarus—
PANDARUS	Not I.
TROILUS	Sweet Pandarus—
PANDARUS	Pray you, speak no more to me. I will leave all as I found it. And there an end.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Alarum
TROILUS	Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds! Fools on both sides. Helen must needs be fair When with your blood you daily paint her thus. I cannot fight upon this argument. It is too starved a subject for my sword. But Pandarus—O gods, how do you plague me! I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar, And he’s as tetchy to be wooed to woo As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne’s love, What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl. Between our Ilium and where she resides Let it be called the wild and wand’ring flood, Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our barque.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter Aeneas
AENEAS	How now, Prince Troilus? Wherefore not afield?
TROILUS	Because not there. This woman’s answer sorts, For womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Aeneas, from the field today?
AENEAS	That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
TROILUS	By whom, Aeneas?
AENEAS	Troilus, by Menelaus.
TROILUS	Let Paris bleed, ’tis but a scar to scorn: Paris is gored with Menelaus’ horn.
(didascalia)	Alarum
AENEAS	Hark what good sport is out of town today.
TROILUS	Better at home, if ‘would I might’ were ‘may’. But to the sport abroad—are you bound thither?
AENEAS	In all swift haste.
TROILUS	Come, go we then together. Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter above Cressida and her servant Alexander
CRESSIDA	Who were those went by?
ALEXANDER	Queen Hecuba and Helen.
CRESSIDA	And whither go they?
ALEXANDER	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 chid Andromache and struck his armourer And, like as there were husbandry 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.
CRESSIDA	What was his cause of anger?
ALEXANDER	The noise goes this: there is among the Greeks A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him Ajax.
CRESSIDA	Good, and what of him?
ALEXANDER	They say he is a very man per se, And stands alone.
CRESSIDA	So do all men Unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs.
ALEXANDER	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 farced with discretion. There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint 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 Briareus, many hands and no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.
CRESSIDA	But how should this man that makes me smile make Hector angry?
ALEXANDER	They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.
CRESSIDA	Who comes here?
ALEXANDER	Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus above
CRESSIDA	Hector’s a gallant man.
ALEXANDER	As may be in the world, lady.
PANDARUS	What’s that? What’s that?
CRESSIDA	Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
PANDARUS	Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you talk of?—Good morrow, Alexander.—How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium?
CRESSIDA	This morning, uncle.
PANDARUS	What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she?
CRESSIDA	Hector was gone but Helen was not up?
PANDARUS	E’en so. Hector was stirring early.
CRESSIDA	That were we talking of, and of his anger.
PANDARUS	Was he angry?
CRESSIDA	So he says here.
PANDARUS	True, he was so. I know the cause too. He’ll lay about him today, I can tell them that. And there’s Troilus will not come far behind him. Let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too.
CRESSIDA	What, is he angry too?
PANDARUS	Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.
CRESSIDA	O Jupiter! There’s no comparison.
PANDARUS	What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him?
CRESSIDA	Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him.
PANDARUS	Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.
CRESSIDA	Then you say as I say, for I am sure He is not Hector.
PANDARUS	No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees.
CRESSIDA	’Tis just to each of them: he is himself.
PANDARUS	Himself? Alas, poor Troilus, I would he were.
CRESSIDA	So he is.
PANDARUS	Condition I had gone barefoot to India.
CRESSIDA	He is not Hector.
PANDARUS	Himself ? No, he’s not himself. Would a were himself! Well, the gods are above, time must friend or end. Well, Troilus, well, I would my heart were in her body. No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.
CRESSIDA	Excuse me.
PANDARUS	He is elder.
CRESSIDA	Pardon me, pardon me.
PANDARUS	Th‘other’s not come to’t. You shall tell me another tale when th’other’s come to’t. Hector shall not have his will this year.
CRESSIDA	He shall not need it if he have his own.
PANDARUS	Nor his qualities.
CRESSIDA	No matter.
PANDARUS	Nor his beauty.
CRESSIDA	’Twould not become him; his own’s better.
PANDARUS	You have no judgement, niece. Helen herself swore th‘other day that Troilus for a brown favour, for so ’tis, I must confess—not brown neither—
CRESSIDA	No, but brown.
PANDARUS	Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
CRESSIDA	To say the truth, true and not true.
PANDARUS	She praised his complexion above Paris’.
CRESSIDA	Why, Paris hath colour enough.
PANDARUS	So he has.
CRESSIDA	Then Troilus should have too much. If she praised him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief Helen’s golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose.
PANDARUS	I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris.
CRESSIDA	Then she’s a merry Greek indeed.
PANDARUS	Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th’other day into the compassed window, and you know he has not past three or four hairs on his chin—
CRESSIDA	Indeed, a tapster’s arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total. no
PANDARUS	Why, he is very young—and yet will he within three pound lift as much as his brother Hector.
CRESSIDA	Is he so young a man and so old a lifter?
PANDARUS	But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin.
CRESSIDA	Juno have mercy! How came it cloven?
PANDARUS	Why, you know, ’tis dimpled. I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.
CRESSIDA	O he smiles valiantly.
PANDARUS	Does he not?
CRESSIDA	O yes, an’t were a cloud in autumn.
PANDARUS	Why, go to then. But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus—
CRESSIDA	Troilus will stand to the proof if you’ll prove it so.
PANDARUS	Troilus? Why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.
CRESSIDA	If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head you would eat chickens i’th’ shell.
PANDARUS	I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled his chin. Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess—
CRESSIDA	Without the rack.
PANDARUS	And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.
CRESSIDA	Alas, poor chin! Many a wart is richer.
PANDARUS	But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed that her eyes ran o’er.
CRESSIDA	With millstones.
PANDARUS	And Cassandra laughed.
CRESSIDA	But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes—or did her eyes run o’er too?
PINDARUS	And Hector laughed.
CRESSIDA	At what was all this laughing?
PANDARUS	Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus’ chin.
CRESSIDA	An’t had been a green hair I should have laughed too.
PANDARUS	They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.
CRESSIDA	What was his answer?
PANDARUS	Quoth she, ‘Here’s but two-and-fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.’
CRESSIDA	This is her question.
PINDARUS	That’s true, make no question of that. ‘Two-and-fifty hairs,’ quoth he, ‘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 he, ‘pluck’t out and give it him.’ But there was such laughing, and Helen so blushed and Paris so chafed and all the rest so laughed, that it passed.
CRESSIDA	So let it now, for it has been a great while going by.
PANDARUS	Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday. Think on’t.
CRESSIDA	So I do.
PANDARUS	I’ll be sworn ’tis true. He will weep you an’t were a man born in April.
CRESSIDA	And I’ll spring up in his tears an’t were a nettle against May. A retreat is sounded
PANDARUS	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.
CRESSIDA	At your pleasure.
PANDARUS	Here, here, here’s an excellent place, here we may see most bravely. I’ll tell you them all by their names as they pass by, but mark Troilus above the rest.
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas passing by below
CRESSIDA	Speak not so loud.
PANDARUS	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Antenor passing by below
CRESSIDA	Who’s that?
PANDARUS	That’s Antenor. He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you, and he’s a man good enough. He’s one o’th’ soundest judgements in Troy 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.
CRESSIDA	Will he give you the nod?
PANDARUS	You shall see.
CRESSIDA	If he do, the rich shall have more.
(didascalia)	Enter Hector passing by below
PANDARUS	That’s Hector, that, that, look you, that. There’s a fellow!—Go thy way, Hector!—There’s a brave man, niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks. There’s a countenance. Is’t not a brave man?
CRESSIDA	O a brave man.
PANDARUS	Is a not? 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 jesting. There’s laying on, take’t off who will, as they say. There be hacks.
CRESSIDA	Be those with swords?
(didascalia)	Enter Paris passing by below
PANDARUS	Swords, anything, he cares not. An 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 ye yonder, niece. Is’t not a gallant man too? Is’t 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, hal Would I could see Troilus now. You shall see Troilus anon.
(didascalia)	Enter Helenus passing by below
CRESSIDA	Who’s that?
PANDARUS	That’s Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That’s Helenus. I think he went not forth today. That’s Helenus.
CRESSIDA	Can Helenus fight, uncle?
PANDARUS	Helenus? No—yes, he’ll fight indifferent well. I marvel where Troilus is.
(didascalia)	A Shout
PANDARUS	Hark, do you not hear the people cry ‘Troilus’? Helenus is a priest.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus passing by below
CRESSIDA	What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
PANDARUS	Where? Yonder? That’s Deiphobus.—’Tis Troilus! There’s a man, niece, h’m? Brave Troilus, the prince of chivalry!
CRESSIDA	Peace, for shame, peace.
PANDARUS	Mark him, note him. O 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 I 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.
(didascalia)	Enter common soldiers passing by below
CRESSIDA	Here comes more.
PANDARUS	Asses, fools, dolts. Chaff and bran, chaff and bran. Porridge after meat. I could live and die i‘th’ eyes of Troilus. Ne’er look, ne’er look, the eagles are gone. Crows and daws, crows and daws. I had rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece.
CRESSIDA	There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.
PANDARUS	Achilles? A drayman, a porter, a very camel.
CRESSIDA	Well, well.
PANDARUS	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 so forth, the spice and salt that season a man?
CRESSIDA	Ay, a minced man—and then to be baked with no date in the pie, for then the man’s date is out.
PANDARUS	You are such another woman! One knows not at what ward you lie.
CRESSIDA	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.
PANDARUS	Say one of your watches.
CRESSIDA	‘Nay, I’ll watch you for that’—and that’s one of the chiefest of them too. If I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow—unless it swell past hiding, and then it’s past watching.
PANDARUS	You are such another!
(didascalia)	Enter Boy
BOY	Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.
PANDARUS	Where?
BOY	At your own house.
PANDARUS	Good boy, tell him I come.
(didascalia)	Exit Boy
PANDARUS	I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.
CRESSIDA	Adieu, uncle.
PANDARUS	I’ll be with you, niece, by and by.
CRESSIDA	To bring, uncle?
PANDARUS	Ay, a token from Troilus.
CRESSIDA	By the same token, you are a bawd.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Pandarus and Alexander
CRESSIDA	Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love’s full sacrifice He offers in another’s enterprise; But more in Troilus thousandfold I see Than in the glass of Pandar’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 naught that knows not this: Men price the thing ungained more than it is. That she was never yet that ever knew Love got so sweet as when desire did sue. Therefore this maxim out of love I teach: Achievement is command; ungained, beseech. Then though my heart’s contents firm love doth bear, Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 1, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sennet. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulysses, Diomedes, and Menelaus, with others
AGAMEMNON	Princes, what grief hath 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, Infects the sound pine and diverts his grain Tortive and errant from his course of growth. Nor, princes, is it matter new to us That we come short of our suppose so far That after seven years’ siege yet Troy walls stand, Sith every action that hath gone before, Whereof we have record, trial did draw Bias and thwart, not answering the aim And that unbodied figure of the thought That gave’t surmised shape. Why then, you princes, Do you with cheeks abashed behold our works, And think them shames, which are indeed naught else But the protractive trials of great Jove To find persistive constancy in men? The fineness of which mettle is not found In fortune’s love—for then the bold and coward, The wise and fool, the artist and unread, The hard and soft, seem all affined and kin. But in the wind and tempest of her frown Distinction with a loud and powerful fan, Puffing at all, winnows the light away, And what hath mass or matter by itself Lies rich in virtue and unminglèd.
NESTOR	With due observance of thy godly seat, Great Agamemnon, 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 enrage The gentle Thetis, and anon behold The strong-ribbed barque through liquid mountains cut, Bounding between the two moist elements Like Perseus’ horse. Where’s then the saucy boat Whose weak untimbered sides but even now Co-rivalled 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 breese Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks And flies flee under shade, why then the thing of courage, As roused with rage, with rage doth sympathize, And with an accent tuned in selfsame key Retorts to chiding fortune.
ULYSSES	Agamemnon, Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit In whom the tempers and the minds of all Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks. Besides th’applause and approbation The which, (to Agamemnon) most mighty for thy place and sway, And thou, (to Nestor) most reverend for thy stretched-out life, I give to both your speeches—which were such As, Agamemnon, every 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 the heavens ride, knit all Greeks’ ears To his experienced tongue—yet let it please both, Thou (to Agamemnon) great, and (to Nestor) wise, to hear Ulysses speak.
AGAMEMNON	Speak, Prince of Ithaca, and be’t of less expect That matter needless, of importless burden, Divide thy lips, than we are confident When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.
ULYSSES	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 hath 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 vizarded, Th’unworthiest shows as fairly in the masque
(didascalia)	.
ULYSSES	The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre Observe degree, priority, and place, Infixture, course, proportion, season, form, Office and custom, in all line of order. And therefore is the glorious planet Sol In noble eminence enthroned and sphered Amidst the other, whose med‘cinable eye Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil And posts like the commandment of a king, Sans 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 deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture. O when degree is shaked, Which is the ladder to all high designs, The enterprise is sick. How could communities, Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities, Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, The primogenity and due of birth, Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, But by degree stand in authentic place? Take but degree away, untune that string, And hark what discord follows. Each thing meets no In mere oppugnancy. 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, an universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Must make perforce an 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 in a purpose It hath to climb. The general’s 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 lives, not in her strength.
NESTOR	Most wisely hath Ulysses here discovered The fever whereof all our power is sick.
AGAMEMNON	The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, What is the remedy?
ULYSSES	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 livelong day Breaks scurrile 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-wrested seeming He acts thy greatness in. And when he speaks ’Tis like a chime a-mending, with terms unsquared Which from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropped Would seem hyperboles. 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 Nestor, hem and stroke thy beard, As he being dressed to some oration.’ That’s done as near as the extremest ends Of parallels, as like as Vulcan and his wife. Yet god Achilles still cries, ‘Excellent! ‘Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus, 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 the rivet. And at this sport Sir Valour dies, cries, ‘O 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.
NESTOR	And in the imitation of these twain Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns With an imperial voice, many are infect. Ajax is grown self-willed and bears his head In such a rein, in full as proud a place As broad Achilles, and keeps his tent like him, Makes factious feasts, rails on our state of war Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites, 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.
ULYSSES	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 ‘bed-work’, ‘mapp’ry’, ‘closet war’. So that the ram that batters down the wall, For the great swinge and rudeness of his poise They place before his hand that made the engine, Or those that with the finesse of their souls By reason guide his execution.
NESTOR	Let this be granted, and Achilles’ horse Makes many Thetis’ sons.
(didascalia)	Tucket
AGAMEMNON	What trumpet? Look, Menelaus.
MENELAUS	From Troy.
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas and a trumpeter
AGAMEMNON	What would you fore our tent?
AENEAS	Is this great Agamemnon’s tent I pray you?
AGAMEMNON	Even this.
AENEAS	May one that is a herald and a prince Do a fair message to his kingly ears?
AGAMEMNON	With surety stronger than Achilles’ arm, Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon heart and general.
AENEAS	Fair leave and large security. How may A stranger to those most imperial looks Know them from eyes of other mortals?
AGAMEMNON	How?
AENEAS	Ay, I ask that I might waken reverence And on 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?
AGAMEMNON	(to the Greeks) This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy Are ceremonious courtiers.
AENEAS	Courtiers as 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 great Jove’s acorn Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Aeneas, Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips. The worthiness of praise distains his worth, If that the praised himself bring the praise forth. But what, repining, the enemy commends, That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends.
AGAMEMNON	Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas?
AENEAS	Ay, Greek, that is my name.
AGAMEMNON	What’s your affair, I pray you?
AENEAS	Sir, pardon, ’tis for Agamemnon’s ears.
AGAMEMNON	He hears naught privately that comes from Troy.
AENEAS	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.
AGAMEMNON	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.
AENEAS	Trumpet, blow loud. Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents, And every Greek of mettle let him know What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. The 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 resty grown. He bade me take a trumpet And to this purpose speak: ‘Kings, princes, lords, If there be one among the fair’st 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 avow 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 tomorrow with his trumpet call Midway between your tents and walls 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 and not worth The splinter of a lance.’ Even so much.
AGAMEMNON	This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas. If none of them have soul in such a kind, We left 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’ll be he.
NESTOR	(to Aeneas) Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man When Hector’s grandsire sucked. He is old now, But if there be not in our Grecian mould 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 vambrace 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.
AENEAS	Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth.
ULYSSES	Amen.
AGAMEMNON	Fair Lord Aeneas, let me touch your hand. To our pavilion shall I lead you first. 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Ulysses and Nestor
ULYSSES	Nestor!
NESTOR	What says Ulysses?
ULYSSES	I have a young Conception in my brain; be you my time To bring it to some shape.
NESTOR	What is’t?
ULYSSES	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 overbulk us all.
NESTOR	Well, and how?
ULYSSES	This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, However it is spread in general name, Relates in purpose only to Achilles.
NESTOR	The purpose is perspicuous, even as substance Whose grossness little characters 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—will with great speed of judgement, Ay with celerity, find Hector’s purpose Pointing on him.
ULYSSES	And wake him to the answer, think you?
NESTOR	Yes, ‘tis most meet. Who may you else oppose, That can from Hector bring his honour off, If not Achilles? Though’t be a sportful combat, Yet in this trial much opinion dwells, For here the Trojans taste our dear’st repute With their fin‘st 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 indices, 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 forth us all a man distilled Out of our virtues—who miscarrying, What heart from hence receives the conqu‘ring part To steel a strong opinion to themselves? Which entertained, limbs are e’en his instruments, In no less working than are swords and bows Directive by the limbs.
ULYSSES	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.
NESTOR	I see them not with my old eyes. What are they?
ULYSSES	What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, Were he not proud we all should wear with him. But he already is too insolent, And we were better parch in Afric sun Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foiled, Why then we did our main opinion crush In taint of our best man. No, make a lott’ry, And by device let blockish Ajax draw The sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselves Give him allowance as the worthier man— For that will physic the great Myrmidon, 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.
NESTOR	Now, Ulysses, 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 tarre the mastiffs on, as ’twere their bone.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ajax and Thersites
AJAX	Thersites.
THERSITES	Agamemnon—how if he had boils, full, all over, generally?
AJAX	Thersites.
THERSITES	And those boils did run? Say so, did not the General run then? Were not that a botchy core?
AJAX	Dog.
THERSITES	Then there would come some matter from him. I see none now.
AJAX	Thou bitch-wolf’s son, canst thou not hear? Feel then. He strikes Thersites
THERSITES	The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord!
AJAX	Speak then, thou unsifted leaven, speak! I will beat thee into handsomeness.
THERSITES	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.
(didascalia)	Ajax strikes him
THERSITES	Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red murrain o’ thy jade’s tricks.
AJAX	Toad’s stool!
(didascalia)	He strikes Thersites
AJAX	Learn me the proclamation.
THERSITES	Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus?
AJAX	The proclamation.
THERSITES	Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.
AJAX	Do not, porcupine, do not. My fingers itch.
THERSITES	I would thou didst itch from head to foot. An I had the scratching of thee, I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece.
AJAX	I say, the proclamation.
THERSITES	Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpina’s beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him.
AJAX	Mistress Thersites.
THERSITES	Thou shouldst strike him.
AJAX	Cobloaf.
THERSITES	He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.
AJAX	You whoreson cur.
(didascalia)	He strikes Thersites
THERSITES	Do! Do!
AJAX	Thou stool for a witch.
(didascalia)	He strikes Thersites
THERSITES	Ay, do, do! Thou sodden-witted lord, thou hast in thy skull no more brain than I have in mine elbows. An asnico may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant ass, thou art here but to thrash Trojans, and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou.
AJAX	You dog.
THERSITES	You scurvy lord.
AJAX	You cur.
(didascalia)	He strikes Thersites
THERSITES	Mars his idiot! Do, rudeness! Do, camel, do, do!
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles and Patroclus
ACHILLES	Why, how now, Ajax? Wherefore do ye thus? How now, Thersites? What’s the matter, man?
THERSITES	You see him there? Do you?
ACHILLES	Ay. What’s the matter?
THERSITES	Nay, look upon him.
ACHILLES	So I do. What’s the matter?
THERSITES	Nay, but regard him well.
ACHILLES	‘Well’? Why, I do so.
THERSITES	But yet you look not well upon him. For whosomever you take him to be, he is Ajax.
ACHILLES	I know that, fool.
THERSITES	Ay, but ‘that fool’ knows not himself.
AJAX	Therefore I beat thee.
THERSITES	Lo, lo, lo, lo, 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 pia mater is not worth the ninth 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.
ACHILLES	What?
THERSITES	I say, this Ajax—
(didascalia)	Ajax threatens to strike him
ACHILLES	Nay, good Ajax.
THERSITES	Has not so much wit—
(didascalia)	Ajax threatens to strike him
ACHILLES	(to Ajax) Nay, I must hold you.
THERSITES	As will stop the eye of Helen’s needle, for whom he comes to fight.
ACHILLES	Peace, fool.
THERSITES	I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not. He, there, that he, look you there.
AJAX	O thou damned cur I shall—
ACHILLES	(to Ajax) Will you set your wit to a fool’s?
THERSITES	No, I warrant you, for a fool’s will shame it.
PATROCLUS	Good words, Thersites.
ACHILLES	(to Ajax) What’s the quarrel?
AJAX	I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.
THERSITES	I serve thee not.
AJAX	Well, go to, go to.
THERSITES	I serve here voluntary.
ACHILLES	Your last service was sufferance. ‘Twas not voluntary: no man is beaten voluntary. Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress.
THERSITES	E’en so. A great deal of your wit, too, lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch an a knock out either of your brains. A were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel.
ACHILLES	What, with me too, Thersites?
THERSITES	There’s Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke you like draught oxen and make you plough up the war.
ACHILLES	What? What?
THERSITES	Yes, good sooth. To Achilles! To, Ajax, to—
AJAX	I shall cut out your tongue.
THERSITES	’Tis no matter. I shall speak as much wit as thou afterwards.
PATROCLUS	No more words, Thersites, peace.
THERSITES	I will hold my peace when Achilles’ brach bids me, shall I?
ACHILLES	There’s for you, Patroclus.
THERSITES	I will see you hanged like clodpolls ere I come any more to your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
(didascalia)	Exit
PATROCLUS	A good riddance.
ACHILLES	(to Ajax) Marry, 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 knight to arms That hath a stomach, and such a one that dare Maintain—I know not what. ’Tis trash. Farewell.
AJAX	Farewell. Who shall answer him?
ACHILLES	I know not. ‘Tis put to lott’ry. Otherwise,
(didascalia)	He knew his man. Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus
AJAX	O, meaning you? I will go learn more of it.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	2.2 Sennet. Enter King Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Helenus
PRIAM	After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: ‘Deliver Helen, and all damage else— As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed In hot digestion of this cormorant war— Shall be struck off.’ Hector, what say you to’t?
HECTOR	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, Surety secure; but modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th’ bottom of the worst. Let Helen go. Since the first sword was drawn about this question, Every tithe-soul, ’mongst 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 merit’s in that reason which denies The yielding of her up?
TROILUS	Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king So great as our dread father in a scale Of common ounces? Will you with counters sum The past-proportion of his infinite, And buckle in a waist most fathomless With spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame!
HELENUS	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 reason Because your speech hath none that tells him so?
TROILUS	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 Helenus beholds A Grecian and his sword, if he do set The very wings of reason to his heels And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star disorbed? Nay, if we talk of reason, Let’s shut our gates and sleep. Manhood and honour Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this crammed reason. Reason and respect Make livers pale and lustihood deject.
HECTOR	Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding.
TROILUS	What’s aught but as ’tis valued?
HECTOR	But value dwells not in particular will. It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein ‘tis precious of itself As in the prizer. ’Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god; And the will dotes that is inclinable To what infectiously itself affects Without some image of th’affected merit.
TROILUS	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 ‘twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgement. 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 spoiled them; nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sewer Because we now are full. It was thought meet Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks. Your breath of full consent bellied his sails; The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce And did him service. He touched the ports desired, And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness Wrinkles Apollo’s and makes stale the morning. Why keep we her? The Grecians keep 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 avouch ’twas wisdom Paris went— As you must needs, for you all cried, ‘Go, go!’; If you’ll confess he brought home noble prize— As you must needs, for you all clapped your hands And cried, ‘Inestimable!’—why do you now The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, And do a deed that never fortune did: Beggar the estimation which you prized Richer than sea and land? O theft most base, That we have stol’n what we do fear to keep! But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol’n, That in their country did them that disgrace We fear to warrant in our native place.
(didascalia)	CASSANDRA within
TROILUS	Cry, Trojans, cry!
PRIAM	What noise? What shriek is this?
TROILUS	’Tis our mad sister. I do know her voice.
(didascalia)	CASSANDRA within Cry, Trojans!
HECTOR	It is Cassandra.
(didascalia)	Enter Cassandra raving, with her hair about her ears
CASSANDRA	Cry, Trojans, cry! Lend me ten thousand eyes And I will fill them with prophetic tears.
HECTOR	Peace, sister, peace.
CASSANDRA	Virgins and boys, mid-age, and wrinkled old, Soft infancy that nothing canst but cry, Add to my clamours. Let us pay betimes A moiety of that mass of moan to come. Cry, Trojans, cry! Practise your eyes with tears. Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilium stand. Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Trojans, cry! Ah Helen, and ah woe! Cry, cry ‘Troy burns!’—or else let Helen go. Exit
HECTOR	Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains 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 in a bad cause, Can qualify the same?
TROILUS	Why, brother Hector, We may not think the justness of each act Such and no other than the event doth form it, Nor once deject the courage of our minds Because Cassandra’s mad. Her brainsick 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 Jove forbid there should be done amongst us Such things as might offend the weakest spleen To fight for and maintain.
PARIS	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 propugnation is in one man’s valour 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.
PRIAM	Paris, you speak Like one besotted on your sweet delights. You have the honey still, but these the gall. So to be valiant is no praise at all.
PARIS	Sir, I propose not merely to myself The pleasures 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, Disgrace to 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 once 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.
HECTOR	Paris and Troilus, you have both said well, But on the cause and question now in hand Have glossed 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 dues 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 ne’ertheless, My sprightly brethren, I propend to you In resolution to keep Helen still; For ’tis a cause that hath no mean dependence Upon our joint and several dignities.
TROILUS	Why, there you touched the life of our design. Were it not glory that we more affected Than the performance of our heaving spleens, I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, She is a theme of honour 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.
HECTOR	I am yours, You valiant offspring of great Priamus. I have a roisting challenge sent amongst The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks Will shriek amazement to their drowsy spirits. I was advertised their great general slept Whilst emulation in the army crept; This I presume will wake him.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Thersites
THERSITES	How now, Thersites? What, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me and I rail at him. O worthy satisfaction! Would it were otherwise: that I could beat him whilst he railed at me. ‘Sfoot, 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. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods; and Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little, little, less than little wit from them that they have—which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant-scarce it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp—or rather, the Neapolitan bone-ache, for that methinks is the curse dependent on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers, and devil Envy say ‘Amen’.—What ho! My lord Achilles!
(didascalia)	Enter
(didascalia)	Patroclus at the door to the tent
(didascalia)	PATROCLUS Who’s there? Thersites? Good Thersites, come in and rail. Exit
THERSITES	If I could ha’ remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst 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 thou art a fair corpse, I’ll be sworn and sworn upon’t she never shrouded any but lazars.
(didascalia)	Enter Patroclus
THERSITES	Amen.—Where’s Achilles?
PATROCLUS	What, art thou devout? Wast thou in prayer?
THERSITES	Ay. The heavens hear me!
PATROCLUS	Amen.
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles
ACHILLES	Who’s there?
PATROCLUS	Thersites, my lord.
ACHILLES	Where? Where? O where?—Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself into my table so many meals? Come: what’s Agamemnon?
THERSITES	Thy commander, Achilles.—Then tell me, Patroclus, what’s Achilles?
PATROCLUS	Thy lord, Thersites. Then tell me, I pray thee, what’s Thersites?
THERSITES	Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?
PATROCLUS	Thou mayst tell, that knowest.
ACHILLES	O tell, tell.
THERSITES	I’ll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles, Achilles is my lord, I am Patroclus’ knower, and Patroclus is a fool.
PATROCLUS	You rascal.
THERSITES	Peace, fool, I have not done.
ACHILLES	(to Patroclus) He is a privileged man.—Proceed, Thersites.
THERSITES	Agamemnon is a fool, Achilles is a fool, Thersites is a fool, and as aforesaid Patroclus is a fool.
ACHILLES	Derive this. Come.
THERSITES	Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool positive.
PATROCLUS	Why am I a fool?
THERSITES	Make that demand to the Creator. It suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes here?
(didascalia)	Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax, and Calchas
ACHILLES	Patroclus, I’ll speak with nobody.—Come in with me, Thersites. Exit
THERSITES	Here is such patchery, such juggling and such knavery. All the argument is a whore and a cuckold. A good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpigo on the subject, and war and lechery confound all. Exit
AGAMEMNON	(to Patroclus) Where is Achilles?
(didascalia)	Within his tent; but ill-disposed, my lord.
AGAMEMNON	Let it be known to him that we are here. He faced 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.
PATROCLUS	I shall so say to him.
(didascalia)	Exit
ULYSSES	We saw him at the opening of his tent. He is not sick.
(didascalia)	AJAX Yes, lion-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. To Agamemnon A word, my lord.
(didascalia)	Ajax and Agamemnon talk apart
NESTOR	What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
ULYSSES	Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
NESTOR	Who? Thersites?
ULYSSES	He.
NESTOR	Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument.
ULYSSES	No, you see, he is his argument that has his argument: Achilles.
NESTOR	All the better—their fraction is more our wish than their faction. But it was a strong council that a fool could disunite.
ULYSSES	The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie.
(didascalia)	Enter Patroclus
ULYSSES	Here comes Patroclus.
NESTOR	No Achilles with him.
ULYSSES	The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.
PATROCLUS	(to Agamemnon) 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’s sake: no An after-dinner’s breath.
AGAMEMNON	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 beheld, Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss, Yea, and like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish Are 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 judgement. And worthier than himself Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on, Disguise the holy strength of their command, And underwrite in an observing kind His humorous predominance—yea, watch His pettish lunes, 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 overhold 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.
PATROCLUS	I shall, and bring his answer presently.
AGAMEMNON	In second voice we’ll not be satisfied; We come to speak with him.—Ulysses, enter you.
(didascalia)	Exit Ulysses with Patroclus
AJAX	What is he more than another?
AGAMEMNON	No more than what he thinks he is.
AJAX	Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am?
AGAMEMNON	No question.
AJAX	Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is?
AGAMEMNON	No, noble Ajax. You are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.
AJAX	Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what it is.
AGAMEMNON	Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Ulysses
AJAX	I do hate a proud man as I hate the engendering of toads.
NESTOR	(aside) Yet he loves himself. Is’t not strange?
ULYSSES	Achilles will not to the field tomorrow.
AGAMEMNON	What’s his excuse?
ULYSSES	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.
AGAMEMNON	Why, will he not, upon our fair request, Untent his person and share the air with us?
ULYSSES	Things small as nothing, for request’s sake only, He makes important. Possessed he is with greatness, And speaks not to himself but with a pride That quarrels at self-breath. Imagined worth Holds in his blood such swoll’n and hot discourse That ‘twixt his mental and his active parts Kingdomed Achilles in commotion rages And batters ’gainst himself. What should I say? He is so plaguy proud that the death tokens of it Cry ‘No recovery’.
AGAMEMNON	Let Ajax go to him. (To Ajax) 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.
ULYSSES	O Agamemnon, let it not be so. We’ll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord That bastes his arrogance with his own seam And never suffers matter of the world
(didascalia)	Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve
ULYSSES	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 assubjugate his merit, As amply titled as Achilles’ is, By going to Achilles— That were to enlard 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’.
NESTOR	(aside to Diomedes) O this is well. He rubs the vein of him.
DIOMEDES	(aside to Nestor) And how his silence drinks up this applause.
AJAX	If I go to him, with my armed fist I’ll pash him o’er the face.
AGAMEMNON	O no, you shall not go.
AJAX	An a be proud with me, I’ll feeze his pride. Let me go to him.
ULYSSES	Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
AJAX	A paltry insolent fellow.
NESTOR	(aside) How he describes himself!
AJAX	Can he not be sociable?
ULYSSES	(aside) The raven chides blackness.
AJAX	I’ll let his humour’s blood.
AGAMEMNON	(aside) He will be the physician that should be the patient.
AJAX	An all men were o’ my mind—
ULYSSES	(aside) Wit would be out of fashion.
AJAX	A should not bear it so. A should eat swords first. Shall pride carry it?
NESTOR	(aside) An’t would, you’d carry half.
(didascalia)	AJAX A would have ten shares.
(didascalia)	ULYSSES (aside) I will knead him; I’ll make him supple.
NESTOR	He’s not yet through warm.
NESTOR	(aside) Farce him with praises. Pour in, pour in! His ambition is dry.
ULYSSES	(to Agamemnon) My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
NESTOR	(to Agamemnon) Our noble general, do not do so.
DIOMEDES	(to Agamemnon) You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
ULYSSES	Why, ‘tis this naming of him does him harm. Here is a man—but ’tis before his face. I will be silent.
NESTOR	Wherefore should you so? He is not emulous, as Achilles is.
ULYSSES	Know the whole world he is as valiant—
AJAX	A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us—would he were a Trojan!
NESTOR	What a vice were it in Ajax now—
ULYSSES	If he were proud—
DIOMEDES	Or covetous of praise—
ULYSSES	Ay, or surly borne—
DIOMEDES	Or strange, or self-affected.
ULYSSES	(to Ajax) Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure. Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck. Famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature Thrice famed beyond, beyond all erudition. But he that disciplined thine arms to fight— Let Mars divide eternity in twain, And give him half. And for thy vigour, Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, Which like a bourn, a pale, a shore 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.
AJAX	Shall I call you father?
ULYSSES	Ay, my good son.
DIOMEDES	Be ruled by him, Lord Ajax.
ULYSSES	(to Agamemnon) There is no tarrying here: the hart Achilles Keeps thicket. Please it our great general To call together all his state of war. Fresh kings are come today 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 cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
AGAMEMNON	Go we to counsel. Let Achilles sleep. Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Music sounds within. Enter Pandarus at one door and a Servant at another door
PANDARUS	Friend? You. Pray you, a word. Do not you follow the young Lord Paris?
SERVANT	Ay, sir, when he goes before me.
PANDARUS	You depend upon him, I mean.
SERVANT	Sir, I do depend upon the Lord.
PANDARUS	You depend upon a notable gentleman; I must needs praise him.
SERVANT	The Lord be praised!
PANDARUS	You know me—do you not?
SERVANT	Faith, sir, superficially.
PANDARUS	Friend, know me better. I am the Lord Pandarus.
SERVANT	I hope I shall know your honour better.
PANDARUS	I do desire it.
SERVANT	You are in the state of grace?
PANDARUS	Grace? Not so, friend. ‘Honour’ and ‘lordship’ are my titles. What music is this?
SERVANT	I do but partly know, sir. It is music in parts.
PANDARUS	Know you the musicians?
SERVANT	Wholly, sir.
PANDARUS	Who play they to?
SERVANT	To the hearers, sir.
PANDARUS	At whose pleasure, friend?
SERVANT	At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.
PANDARUS	‘Command’ I mean, friend.
SERVANT	Who shall I command, sir?
PANDARUS	Friend, we understand not one another. I am too courtly and thou too cunning. At whose request do these men play?
SERVANT	That’s to’t indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who’s there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love’s visible soul—
PANDARUS	Who, my cousin Cressida?
SERVANT	No, sir, Helen. Could not you find out that by her attributes?
PANDARUS	It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the Lady Cressid. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus. I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seethes.
SERVANT	Sodden business! There’s a stewed phrase, indeed.
(didascalia)	Enter Paris and Helen, attended by musicians
PANDARUS	Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company. Fair desires in all fair measure fairly guide them—especially to you, fair Queen. Fair thoughts be your fair pillow.
HELEN	Dear lord, you are full of fair words.
PANDARUS	You speak your fair pleasure, sweet Queen. (To Paris) Fair prince, here is good broken music.
PARIS	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.
PANDARUS	Truly, lady, no.
HELEN	O sir.
(didascalia)	She tickles him
PANDARUS	Rude, in sooth, in good sooth very rude.
PARIS	Well said, my lord. Will you say so in fits?
PANDARUS	I have business to my lord, dear Queen.—My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word?
HELEN	Nay, this shall not hedge us out. We’ll hear you sing, certainly.
PANDARUS	Well, sweet Queen, you are pleasant with me.—But marry, thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus—
HELEN	My lord Pandarus, honey-sweet lord.
PANDARUS	Go to, sweet Queen, go tot—commends himself most affectionately to you.
HELEN	You shall not bob us out of our melody. If you do, our melancholy upon your head.
PANDARUS	Sweet Queen, sweet Queen, that’s a sweet Queen. Ay, faith—
HELEN	And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.
PANDARUS	Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it 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.
HELEN	My lord Pandarus.
PANDARUS	What says my sweet Queen, my very very sweet Queen?
PARIS	What exploit’s in hand? Where sups he tonight?
HELEN	Nay, but my lord—
PANDARUS	What says my sweet Queen? My cousin will fall out with you.
HELEN	(to Paris) You must not know where he sups.
PARIS	I’ll lay my life, with my dispenser Cressida.
PANDARUS	No, no! No such matter. You are wide. Come, your dispenser is sick.
PARIS	Well, I’ll make’s excuse.
PANDARUS	Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? No, your poor dispenser’s sick.
PARIS	‘I spy.’
(didascalia)	PANDARUS You spy? What do you spy?—To a musician
PARIS	Come, give me an instrument.—Now, sweet Queen.
HELEN	Why, this is kindly done!
PANDARUS	My niece is horrible in love with a thing you have, sweet Queen.
HELEN	She shall have it, my lord—if it be not my lord Paris.
PANDARUS	He? No, she’ll none of him. They two are twain.
HELEN	Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.
PANDARUS	Come, come, I’ll hear no more of this. I’ll sing you a song now.
HELEN	Ay, ay, prithee. Now by my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead.
(didascalia)	She strokes his forehead
PANDARUS	Ay, you may, you may.
HELEN	Let thy song be love. ‘This love will undo us all.’ O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!
PANDARUS	Love? Ay, that it shall, i’faith.
PARIS	Ay, good now, ‘Love, love, nothing but love’.
PANDARUS	In good truth, it begins so. (Sings) Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more! For O love’s bow Shoots buck and doe. The shaft confounds Not that it wounds, But tickles still the sore. These lovers cry ‘O! O!’, they die. Yet that which seems the wound to kill Doth turn ‘O! O!’ to ‘ha ha he!’ So dying love lives still. ‘O! O!’ a while, but ‘ha ha ha!’ ‘O! O!’ groans out for ‘ha ha ha!’— Heigh-ho.
HELEN	In love—ay, faith, to the very tip of the nose.
PARIS	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.
PANDARUS	Is this the generation of love: hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?
(didascalia)	Alarum
PANDARUS	Sweet lord, who’s afield today?
PARIS	Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy. I would fain have armed today, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?
HELEN	He hangs the lip at something. You know all, Lord Pandarus.
PANDARUS	Not I, honey-sweet Queen. I long to hear how they sped today.—You’ll remember your brother’s excuse?
PARIS	To a hair.
PANDARUS	Farewell, sweet Queen.
HELEN	Commend me to your niece.
PANDARUS	I will, sweet Queen. Exit
(didascalia)	Sound a retreat
PARIS	They’re come from 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.
HELEN	’Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris; Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty Gives us more palm in beauty than we have— Yea, overshines ourself.
PARIS	Sweet above thought, I love thee!
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus at one door and Troilus’ man at another door
PANDARUS	How now, where’s thy master? At my cousin Cressida’s?
MAN	No, sir, he stays for you to conduct him thither.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
PANDARUS	O here he comes.—How now, how now?
TROILUS	Sirrah, walk off. Exit Man
PANDARUS	Have you seen my cousin?
TROILUS	No, Pandarus, I stalk about her door Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to those fields Where I may wallow in the lily beds Proposed for the deserver. O gentle Pandar, From Cupid’s shoulder pluck his painted wings And fly with me to Cressid.
PANDARUS	Walk here i’th’ orchard. I’ll bring her straight.
(didascalia)	Exit
TROILUS	I am giddy. Expectation whirls me round. Th‘imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense. What will it be When that the wat’ry palates taste indeed Love’s thrice-repurèd nectar? Death, I fear me, Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine, Too subtle-potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness For 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
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 frayed with a spirit. I’ll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain! She fetches her breath as short as a new-ta’en sparrow.
(didascalia)	Exit
TROILUS	Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom. My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse, And all my powers do their bestowing lose, Like vassalage at unawares encount’ring The eye of majesty.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus, with Cressida veiled
(didascalia)	PANDARUS (to Cressida) Come, come, what need you blush? Shame’s a baby. (To Troilus) Here she is now. Swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me. (To Cressida) What, are you gone again? You must be watched ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways. An you draw backward, we’ll put you i‘th’ thills. (To Troilus) Why do you not speak to her? (To Cressida) Come, draw this curtain, and let’s see your picture. He unveils her Alas the day! How loath you are to offend daylight! An’t were dark, you’d close sooner. So, so. (To Troilus) Rub on, and kiss the mistress. (They kiss) How now, a kiss in fee farm! Build there, carpenter, the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i’th’ river. Go to, go to.
TROILUS	You have bereft me of all words, lady.
PANDARUS	Words pay no debts; give her deeds. But she’ll bereave you o‘th’ deeds too, if she call your activity in question. (They kiss) What, billing again? Here’s ‘in witness whereof the parties interchangeably’. Come in, come in. I’ll go get a fire. Exit
CRESSIDA	Will you walk in, my lord?
TROILUS	O Cressida, how often have I wished me thus.
CRESSIDA	Wished, my lord? The gods grant—O, my lordl
TROILUS	What should they grant? What makes this pretty abruption? What too-curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
CRESSIDA	More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.
TROILUS	Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly.
CRESSIDA	Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason, stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oft cures the worse.
TROILUS	O let my lady apprehend no fear. In all Cupid’s pageant there is presented no monster.
CRESSIDA	Nor nothing monstrous neither?
TROILUS	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 imposition enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady—that the will is infinite and the execution confined; that the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.
CRESSIDA	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 hares, are they not monsters?
TROILUS	Are there such? Such are not we. Praise us as we are tasted; allow us as we prove. Our head shall go bare till merit crown it. No perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present. We will not name desert before his birth, and being born his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith. Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst shall be a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest, not truer than Troilus.
CRESSIDA	Will you walk in, my lord?
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
PANDARUS	What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet?
CRESSIDA	Well, uncle, what folly I commit I dedicate to you.
PANDARUS	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.
TROILUS	(to Cressida) You know now your hostages: your uncle’s word and my firm faith.
PANDARUS	Nay, I’ll give my word for her too. Our kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed, they are constant being won. They are burrs, I can tell you: they’ll stick where they are thrown.
CRESSIDA	Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart. Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day For many weary months.
TROILUS	Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?
CRESSIDA	Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord, With the first glance that ever—pardon me: If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. I love you now, but till now not 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 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 in dumbness, in my weakness draws My soul of counsel from me. Stop my mouth.
TROILUS	And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence. He kisses her
PANDARUS	Pretty, i’ faith.
CRESSIDA	(to Troilus) My lord, I do beseech you pardon me. ’Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss. I am ashamed. O heavens, what have I done? For this time will I take my leave, my lord. TROILUS Your leave, sweet Cressid?
PANDARUS	Leave? An you take leave till tomorrow morning—
CRESSIDA	Pray you, content you.
TROILUS	What offends you, lady?
CRESSIDA	Sir, mine own company.
TROILUS	You cannot shun yourself.
CRESSIDA	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. Where is my wit? I would be gone. I speak I know not what.
TROILUS	Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely.
CRESSIDA	Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love, And 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.
TROILUS	O that I thought it could be in a woman— As, if it can, I will presume in you— To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love, To keep her constancy in plight and youth, Outliving beauty’s outward, with a mind That 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.
CRESSIDA	In that I’ll war with you.
TROILUS	O virtuous fight, When right with right wars who shall be most right. True swains in love shall in the world to come Approve their truth by Troilus. When their rhymes, Full of protest, of oath and big compare, Wants similes, truth tired with iteration— ‘As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to th’ centre’— Yet, after all comparisons of truth, As truth’s authentic author to be cited, ’As true as Troilus’ shall crown up the verse And sanctify the numbers.
CRESSIDA	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, or wolf to heifer’s calf, Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son’, Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, ‘As false as Cressid’.
PANDARUS	Go to, a bargain made. Seal it, seal it. I’ll be the witness. Here I hold your hand; here, my cousin’s. If ever you prove false one to another, since I have taken such pain to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world’s end after my name: call them all panders. Let all constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers-between panders. Say ‘Amen’.
TROILUS	Amen.
CRESSIDA	Amen.
PANDARUS	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!
(didascalia)	Exeunt Troilus and Cressida
PANDARUS	And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here Bed, chamber, pander to provide this gear. Exit

Atto 3, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Ajax, and Calchas
CALCHAS	Now, princes, for the service I have done you, Th‘advantage of the time prompts me aloud To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind That through the sight I bear in things to come I have abandoned Troy, left my profession, Incurred a traitor’s name, exposed myself From certain and possessed conveniences To doubtful fortunes, sequest’ring from me all That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition Made tame and most familiar to my nature, And here to do you service am become As new into the world, strange, unacquainted. I do beseech you, as in way of taste, To give me now a little benefit Out of those many registered in promise Which you say live to come in my behalf.
AGAMEMNON	What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? Make demand.
CALCHAS	You have a Trojan prisoner called Antenor, Yesterday took. Troy holds him very dear. Oft have you—often have you thanks therefor— Desired my Cressid in right great exchange, Whom Troy hath still denied. But this Antenor I know is such a wrest 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.
AGAMEMNON	Let Diomedes bear him, And bring us Cressid hither; Calchas shall have What he requests of us. Good Diomed, Furnish you fairly for this interchange; Withal bring word if Hector will tomorrow Be answered in his challenge. Ajax is ready.
DIOMEDES	This shall I undertake, and ’tis a burden Which I am proud to bear. Exit with Calchas
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles and Patroclus in their tent
ULYSSES	Achilles stands i‘th’ entrance of his tent. Please it our general 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, why turned 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 do good. Pride hath no other glass To show itself but pride; for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man’s fees.
AGAMEMNON	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. They pass by the tent, in turn
ACHILLES	What, comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind: I’ll fight no more ’gainst Troy.
AGAMEMNON	(to Nestor) What says Achilles? Would he aught with us?
NESTOR	(to Achilles) Would you, my lord, aught with the general?
ACHILLES	No.
NESTOR	(to Agamemnon) Nothing, my lord.
AGAMEMNON	The better.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor
(didascalia)	ACHILLES to Menelaus Good day, good day.
MENELAUS	How do you? How do you?
(didascalia)	Exit
ACHILLES	(to Patroclus) What, does the cuckold scorn me?
AJAX	How now, Patroclus?
ACHILLES	Good morrow, Ajax.
AJAX	Ha?
ACHILLES	Good morrow.
AJAX	Ay, and good next day too.
(didascalia)	Exit
ACHILLES	(to Patroclus) What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?
PATROCLUS	They pass by strangely. They were used to bend, To send their smiles before them to Achilles, To come as humbly as they use to creep To holy altars.
ACHILLES	What, am I poor of late? ‘Tis certain, greatness once fall’n out with fortune Must fall out with men too. What the declined 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, and favour: Prizes of accident as oft as merit; Which, when they fall, as being slippery standers— The love that leaned on them, as slippery too— Doth 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 methinks 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?
ULYSSES	Now, great Thetis’ son.
ACHILLES	What are you reading?
ULYSSES	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, Heat them, and they retort that heat again To the first givers.
ACHILLES	This is not strange, Ulysses. The beauty that is borne 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 is mirrored there Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all.
ULYSSES	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 th‘applause Where they’re extended—who, like an arch, reverb’rate The voice again; or, like a gate of steel Fronting the sun, receives and renders back His figure and his heat. I was much rapt 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 doth throw upon him. Ajax renowned? O heavens, what some men do, While some men leave to do. How some men creep in skittish Fortune’s hall Whiles 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 shrinking.
ACHILLES	I do believe it, For they passed by me as misers do by beggars, Neither gave to me good word nor look. What, are my deeds forgot?
ULYSSES	Time 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 mock‘ry. Take the instant way, For honour travels in a strait 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 fall’n in first rank, Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, O’errun and trampled on. Then what they do in present, Though less than yours in past, must o‘ertop yours. For Time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by th’ hand And, with his arms outstretched as he would fly, Grasps in the comer. Welcome ever smiles, And Farewell goes out sighing. O let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin— That all with one consent praise new-born gauds, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o’er-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 ’mongst the gods themselves, And drove great Mars to faction.
ACHILLES	Of this my privacy I have strong reasons.
ULYSSES	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.
ACHILLES	Ha? Known?
ULYSSES	Is that a wonder? The providence that’s in a watchful state Knows almost every grain of Pluto’s gold, Finds bottom in th’uncomprehensive deeps, Keeps place with aught, and almost like the gods Do infant 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 Polyxena. But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, When fame shall in his island 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 as your lover speak. The fool slides o’er the ice that you should break. Exit
PATROCLUS	To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you. A woman impudent and mannish 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 dew-drop from the lion’s mane Be shook to air.
ACHILLES	Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
PATROCLUS	Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.
ACHILLES	I see my reputation is at stake. My fame is shrewdly gored.
PATROCLUS	O then beware: Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves. Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger, And danger like an ague subtly taints Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
ACHILLES	Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus. I’ll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him T’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,
(didascalia)	Enter Thersites
ACHILLES	To talk with him and to behold his visage Even to my full of view.—A labour saved.
THERSITES	A wonder!
ACHILLES	What?
THERSITES	Ajax goes up and down the field, as asking for himself.
ACHILLES	How so?
THERSITES	He must fight singly tomorrow with Hector, and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying nothing.
ACHILLES	How can that be?
THERSITES	Why, a stalks up and down like a peacock—a stride and a stand; ruminates like an hostess that hath 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 this head, an’t would 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, for if Hector break not his neck i‘th’ combat he’ll break’t himself in vainglory. He knows not me. I said, ‘Good morrow, Ajax’, and he replies, ‘Thanks, Agamemnon’. What think you of this man that takes me for the General? He’s grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! A man may wear it on both sides like a leather jerkin.
ACHILLES	Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.
THERSITES	Who, I? Why, he’ll answer nobody. He professes not answering. Speaking is for beggars. He wears his tongue in’s arms. I will put on his presence. Let Patroclus make demands to me. You shall see the pageant of Ajax.
ACHILLES	To him, Patroclus. Tell him I humbly desire 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-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon; et cetera. Do this.
PATROCLUS	(to Thersites) Jove bless great Ajax!
THERSITES	H’m.
PATROCLUS	I come from the worthy Achilles—
THERSITES	Ha?
PATROCLUS	Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent—
THERSITES	H’m!
PATROCLUS	And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon.
THERSITES	Agamemnon?
PATROCLUS	Ay, my lord.
THERSITES	Ha!
PATROCLUS	What say you to’t?
THERSITES	God b’wi’ you, with all my heart.
PATROCLUS	Your answer, sir?
THERSITES	If tomorrow be a fair day, by eleven o’clock it will go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.
PATROCLUS	Your answer, sir?
THERSITES	Fare ye well, with all my heart.
ACHILLES	Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
THERSITES	No, but he’s out o’ tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not. But I am feared none, unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.
ACHILLES	Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.
THERSITES	Let me carry another to his horse, for that’s the more capable creature.
ACHILLES	My mind is troubled like a fountain stirred, And I myself see not the bottom of it.
(didascalia)	Exit with Patroclus
THERSITES	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

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter at one door Aeneas with a torch; at another Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes the Grecian, with torch-bearers
PARIS	See, hol Who is that there?
DEIPHOBUS	It is the Lord Aeneas.
AENEAS	Is the Prince there in person? Had I so good occasion to lie long As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company.
DIOMEDES	That’s my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Aeneas.
PARIS	A valiant Greek, Aeneas, take his hand. Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told how Diomed e’en a whole week by days Did haunt you in the field.
AENEAS	(to Diomedes) Health to you, 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.
DIOMEDES	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.
AENEAS	And thou shalt hunt a lion that will fly With his face backward. In humane gentleness, Welcome to Troy. Now by Anchises’ 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.
DIOMEDES	We sympathize. Jove, let Aeneas 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.
AENEAS	We know each other well.
DIOMEDES	We do, and long to know each other worse.
PARIS	This is the most despitefull‘st gentle greeting, The noblest hateful love, that e’er I heard of. What business, lord, so early?
AENEAS	I was sent for to the King; but why, I know not.
PARIS	His purpose meets you: ’twas to bring this Greek To Calchas’ house, and there to render him, For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid. Let’s have your company, or if you please
(didascalia)	Haste there before us. Aside I constantly do think—
PARIS	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.
(didascalia)	AENEAS aside That I assure you.
PARIS	Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece Than Cressid borne from Troy.
(didascalia)	PARIS aside
PARIS	There is no help. The bitter disposition of the time Will have it so.
(didascalia)	Aloud On, lord, we’ll follow you.
AENEAS	Good morrow all.
(didascalia)	Exit
PARIS	And tell me, noble Diomed—faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship- Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen most, Myself or Menelaus?
DIOMEDES	Both alike. He merits well to have her that doth seek her, Not making any scruple of her soilure, With such a hell of pain and world of charge; And you as well to keep her that defend her, Not palating the taste of her dishonour, With such a costly loss of wealth and friends. He like a puling cuckold would drink up The lees and dregs of a flat ’tamed piece; You like a lecher out of whorish loins Are pleased to breed out your inheritors. Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more, But he as he: which heavier for a whore?
PARIS	You are too bitter to your countrywoman.
DIOMEDES	She’s bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris. For every false drop in her bawdy veins A Grecian’s life hath sunk; for every scruple Of her contaminated carrion weight A 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.
PARIS	Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do: Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy. But we in silence hold this virtue well: We’ll but commend what we intend to sell.— Here lies our way. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus and Cressida
TROILUS	Dear, trouble not yourself. The morn is cold.
CRESSIDA	Then, sweet my lord, I’ll call mine uncle down. He shall unbolt the gates.
TROILUS	Trouble him not. To bed, to bed! Sleep lull those pretty eyes And give as soft attachment to thy senses As to infants empty of all thought.
CRESSIDA	Good morrow, then.
TROILUS	I prithee now, to bed.
CRESSIDA	Are you aweary of me?
TROILUS	O Cressida! But that the busy day, Waked by the lark, hath roused the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.
CRESSIDA	Night hath been too brief.
TROILUS	Beshrew the witch! With venomous wights she stays As hideously as hell, but flies the grasps of love With wings more momentary-swift than thought. You will catch cold and curse me.
CRESSIDA	Prithee, tarry. You men will never tarry. O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off, And then you would have tarried.—Hark, there’s one up.
(didascalia)	She veils herself
PANDARUS	(within) What’s all the doors open here?
TROILUS	It is your uncle.
CRESSIDA	A pestilence on him! Now will he be mocking. I shall have such a life.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
PANDARUS	How now, how now, how go maidenheads? (To Cressida) Here, you, maid! Where’s my cousin Cressid?
(didascalia)	CRESSIDA unveiling
PANDARUS	Go hang yourself. You naughty, mocking uncle! You bring me to do—and then you flout me too.
PANDARUS	To do what? To do what?—Let her say what.—What have I brought you to do?
CRESSIDA	Come, come, beshrew your heart. You’ll ne’er be good, Nor suffer others.
PINDARUS	Ha ha! Alas, poor wretch. Ah, poor capocchia, hast not slept tonight? Would he not—a naughty man—let it sleep? A bugbear take him.
CRESSIDA	(to Troilus) Did not I tell you? Would he were knocked i’th’ head.
(didascalia)	One knocks within
CRESSIDA	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.
TROILUS	Ha ha!
CRESSIDA	Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing. One knocks within How earnestly they knock! Pray you come in. I would not for half Troy have you seen here.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Troilus and Cressida
PANDARUS	Who’s there? What’s the matter? Will you beat down the door?
(didascalia)	He opens the door. Enter Aeneas
PANDARUS	How now, what’s the matter?
AENEAS	Good morrow, lord, good morrow.
PANDARUS	Who’s there? My Lord Aeneas? By my troth, I knew you not. What news with you so early?
AENEAS	Is not Prince Troilus here?
PANDARUS	Here? What should he do here?
AENEAS	Come, he is here, my lord. Do not deny him. It doth import him much to speak with me.
PANDARUS	Is he here, say you? It’s more than I know, I’ll be sworn. For my own part, I came in late. What should he do here?
AENEAS	Whoa! Nay, then. Come, come, you’ll do him wrong Ere you are ware. You’ll be so true to him To be false to him. Do not you know of him,
(didascalia)	But yet go fetch him hither. Go. Exit Pandarus
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
TROILUS	How now, what’s the matter?
AENEAS	My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, My matter is so rash. There is at hand Paris your brother and Deiphobus, The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor Delivered to us—and for him forthwith, Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, We must give up to Diomedes’ hand The Lady Cressida.
TROILUS	Is it so concluded?
AENEAS	By Priam and the general state of Troy. They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
TROILUS	How my achievements mock me. I will go meet them—and, my Lord Aeneas, We met by chance: you did not find me here.
AENEAS	Good, good, my lord: the secrecies of nature Have not more gift in taciturnity.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus and Cressida
PANDARUS	Is’t possible? No sooner got but lost. The devil take Antenor! The young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke’s neck.
CRESSIDA	How now? What’s the matter? Who was here?
PANDARUS	Ah, ah!
CRESSIDA	Why sigh you so profoundly? Where’s my lord? Gone? Tell me, sweet uncle, what’s the matter?
PANDARUS	Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above.
CRESSIDA	O the gods! What’s the matter?
PANDARUS	Pray thee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne’er been born. I knew thou wouldst be his death. O poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor!
CRESSIDA	Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees; I beseech you, what’s the matter?
PANDARUS	Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone. Thou art changed for Antenor. Thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus. ‘Twill be his death. ’Twill be his bane. He cannot bear it.
CRESSIDA	O you immortal gods! I will not go.
PANDARUS	Thou must.
CRESSIDA	I will not, uncle. I have forgot my father. I know no touch of consanguinity, No kin, no love, no blood, no soul, so near me As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine, Make Cressid’s name the very crown of falsehood If ever she leave Troilus. Time, force, and death Do to this body what extremity you can, But the strong base and building of my love Is as the very centre of the earth, Drawing all things to it. I’ll go in and weep—
PANDARUS	Do, do.
CRESSIDA	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Paris, Troilus, Aeneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes
PARIS	It is great morning, and the hour prefixed Of her delivery to this valiant Greek Comes fast upon us. Good my brother Troilus, Tell you the lady what she is to do, And haste her to the purpose.
TROILUS	Walk into her house. I’ll bring her to the Grecian presently— And to his hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus A priest, there off’ring to it his own heart.
PARIS	I know what ’tis to love, And would, as I shall pity, I could help.—
(didascalia)	Please you walk in, my lords? Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus and Cressida
PANDARUS	Be moderate, be moderate.
CRESSIDA	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
PANDARUS	Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks!
CRESSIDA	(embracing him) O Troilus, Troilus!
PANDARUS	What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace you too. ‘O heart‘, as the goodly saying is, ‘O heart, heavy heart, Why sigh’st 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?
TROILUS	Cressid, I love thee in so strained a purity That the blest gods, as angry with my fancy— More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities—take thee from me.
CRESSIDA	Have the gods envy?
PANDARUS	Ay, ay, ay, ay, ’tis too plain a case.
CRESSIDA	And is it true that I must go from Troy?
TROILUS	A hateful truth.
CRESSIDA	What, and from Troilus too?
TROILUS	From Troy and Troilus.
CRESSIDA	Is’t possible?
TROILUS	And suddenty—where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, jostles roughly by All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents Our locked embrasures, strangles our dear vows Even in the birth of our own labouring breath. We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one. Injurious Time now with a robber’s haste Crams his rich thiev’ry 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 loose adieu And scants us with a single famished kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas
AENEAS	My lord, is the lady ready?
TROILUS	(to Cressida) Hark, you are called. Some say the genius so Cries ‘Come!’ to him that instantly must die.
(didascalia)	To Pandarus Bid them have patience. She shall come
TROILUS	anon.
PANDARUS	Where are my tears? Rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root.
(didascalia)	Exit with Aeneas
CRESSIDA	I must then to the Grecians.
TROILUS	No remedy.
CRESSIDA	A woeful Cressid ’mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?
TROILUS	Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart—
CRESSIDA	I true? How now! What wicked deem is this?
TROILUS	Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us. I speak not ‘Be thou true’ as fearing thee— For I will throw my glove to Death himself That there’s no maculation in thy heart— But ‘Be thou true’ say I, to fashion in My sequent protestation: ‘Be thou true, And I will see thee’.
CRESSIDA	O you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent. But I’ll be true.
TROILUS	And I’ll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
CRESSIDA	And you this glove. When shall I see you?
TROILUS	I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels To give thee nightly visitation. But yet, be true.
CRESSIDA	O heavens! ’Be true’ again!
TROILUS	Hear why I speak it, love. The Grecian youths are full of quality, Their 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 afeard.
CRESSIDA	O heavens, you love me not!
TROILUS	Die I a villain then! In this I do not call your faith in question So mainly as my merit. I cannot sing, Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, Nor play at subtle games—fair virtues all, To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant. But I can tell that in each grace of these There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted.
CRESSIDA	Do you think I will?
TROILUS	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.
AENEAS	(within) Nay, good my lord!
TROILUS	Come, kiss, and let us part.
(didascalia)	PARIS art the door
TROILUS	Brother Troilus?
TROILUS	Good brother, come you hither, And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you.
(didascalia)	Exit Paris
CRESSIDA	My lord, will you be true?
TROILUS	Who, I? Alas, it is my vice, my fault. Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
(didascalia)	Enter Paris, Aeneas, Antenor, Deiphobus, and Diomedes
TROILUS	Fear not my truth. The moral of my wit Is ‘plain and true!’; there’s all the reach of it.— Welcome, Sir Diomed. Here is the lady Which for Antenor we deliver you. At the port, lord, I’ll give her to thy hand, And by the way possess thee what she is. Entreat her fair, and by my soul, fair Greek, If e’er thou stand at mercy of my sword, Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe As Priam is in Ilium.
DIOMEDES	Fair Lady Cressid, So please you, save the thanks this prince expects. The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
TROILUS	Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously, To shame the zeal of my petition towards 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.
DIOMEDES	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’t so’, I’ll speak it in my spirit and honour ‘No!’
TROILUS	Come, to the port.—I’ll tell thee, Diomed, This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.— Lady, give me your hand, and as we walk To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Troilus, Cressida, and Diomedes
TROILUS	A trumpet sounds
PARIS	Hark, Hector’s trumpet.
AENEAS	How have we spent this morning? The Prince must think me tardy and remiss, That swore to ride before him in the field.
PARIS	‘Tis Troilus’ fault. Come, come to field with him.
DEIPHOBUS	Let us make ready straight.
AENEAS	Yea, with a bridegroom’s fresh alacrity Let us address to tend on Hector’s heels. The glory of our Troy doth this day lie On his fair worth and single chivalry. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ajax armed, Achilles, Patroclus, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor, a trumpeter, and others
AGAMEMNON	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 appallèd air May pierce the head of the great combatant And hale him hither.
AJAX	Thou trumpet, there’s my purse. He gives him money Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe. Blow, villain, till thy spherèd bias cheek Outswell the colic of puffed Aquilon. Come, stretch thy chest and let thy eyes spout blood; Thou blow’st for Hector.
(didascalia)	The trumpet sounds
ULYSSES	No trumpet answers.
ACHILLES	’Tis but early days.
AGAMEMNON	Is not yond Diomed with Calchas’ daughter?
ULYSSES	’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.
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes and Cressida
AGAMEMNON	(to Diomedes) Is this the Lady Cressid?
DIOMEDES	Even she.
AGAMEMNON	Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady. He kisses her
NESTOR	(to Cressida) Our General doth salute you with a kiss.
ULYSSES	Yet is the kindness but particular; ’Twere better she were kissed in general.
NESTOR	And very courtly counsel. I’ll begin. He kisses her So much for Nestor.
ACHILLES	I’ll take that winter from your lips, fair lady. He kisses her Achilles bids you welcome.
MENELAUS	(to Cressida) I had good argument for kissing once.
PATROCLUS	But that’s no argument for kissing now;
(didascalia)	For thus stepping between them popped Paris in his
PATROCLUS	hardiment, And parted thus you and your argument. He kisses her
(didascalia)	ULYSSES aside
PATROCLUS	O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns! For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.
PATROCLUS	(to Cressida) The first was Menelaus’ kiss; this, mine. Patroclus kisses you. He kisses her again
MENELAUS	O this is trim.
PATROCLUS	(to Cressida) Paris and I kiss evermore for him.
MENELAUS	I’ll have my kiss, sir.—Lady, by your leave.
CRESSIDA	In kissing do you render or receive?
(didascalia)	MENELAUS
CRESSIDA	Both take and give.
CRESSIDA	I’ll make my match to live, The kiss you take is better than you give. Therefore no kiss.
MENELAUS	I’ll give you boot: I’ll give you three for one.
CRESSIDA	You are an odd man: give even or give none.
MENELAUS	An odd man, lady? Every man is odd.
CRESSIDA	No, Paris is not—for you know ’tis true That you are odd, and he is even with you.
MENELAUS	You fillip me o’th’ head.
CRESSIDA	No, I’ll be sworn.
ULYSSES	It were no match, your nail against his horn. May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?
CRESSIDA	You may.
ULYSSES	I do desire it.
CRESSIDA	Why, beg too.
ULYSSES	Why then, for Venus’ sake, give me a kiss, When Helen is a maid again, and his—
CRESSIDA	I am your debtor; claim it when ’tis due.
ULYSSES	Never’s my day, and then a kiss of you.
DIOMEDES	Lady, a word. I’ll bring you to your father.
(didascalia)	They talk apart
NESTOR	A woman of quick sense.
ULYSSES	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. O these encounterers so glib of tongue, That give accosting welcome ere 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Diomedes and Cressida
(didascalia)	Flourish
ALL	The Trojans’ trumpet.
(didascalia)	Enter all off Troy: Hector armed, Paris, Aeneas, Helenus, and attendants, among them Troilus
AGAMEMNON	Yonder comes the troop.
(didascalia)	AENEAS coming forward
AGAMEMNON	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 they be divided By any voice or order of the field? Hector bade ask.
AGAMEMNON	Which way would Hector have it?
AENEAS	He cares not; he’ll obey conditions.
(didascalia)	ACHILLES
AENEAS	’Tis done like Hector—but securely done, A little proudly, and great deal disprising The knight opposed.
AENEAS	If not Achilles, sir, What is your name?
ACHILLES	If not Achilles, nothing.
AENEAS	Therefore Achilles. But whate’er, know this: In the extremity of great and little, Valour 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 Ajax is half made of Hector’s blood, In love whereof half Hector stays at home. Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
ACHILLES	A maiden battle, then? O I perceive you.
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes
AGAMEMNON	Here is Sir Diomed.—Go, gentle knight, Stand by our Ajax. As you and Lord Aeneas Consent upon the order of their fight, So be it: either to the uttermost Or else a breath.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Ajax, Diomedes, Hector, and Aeneas
AGAMEMNON	The combatants being kin Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. ULYSSES They are opposed already.
AGAMEMNON	What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?
ULYSSES	The youngest son of Priam, a true knight: They call him Troilus. 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 judgement guide his bounty, Nor dignifies an impare 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 Aeneas, one that knows the youth Even to his inches, and with private soul Did in great Ilium thus translate him to me.
(didascalia)	Alarum
AGAMEMNON	They are in action.
NESTOR	Now, Ajax, hold thine own!
TROILUS	Hector, thou steep’st! Awake thee!
(didascalia)	His blows are well disposed. There, Ajax! Exeunt
(didascalia)	4.7 Enter Hector and Ajax fighting, and Aeneas and
(didascalia)	Diomedes interposing. Trumpets cease
DIOMEDES	You must no more.
AENEAS	Princes, enough, so please you.
AJAX	I am not warm yet. Let us fight again.
DIOMEDES	As Hector pleases.
HECTOR	Why then will I no 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 commixtion Greek and Trojan so That thou couldst say ’This hand is Grecian all, 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 father‘s,’ 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 drop thou borrowed’st from thy mother, My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword Be drained. Let me embrace thee, Ajax. By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms. Hector would have them fall upon him thus. Cousin, all honour to thee.
AJAX	I thank thee, Hector. Thou art too gentle and too free a man. I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence A great addition earned in thy death.
HECTOR	Not Neoptolemus so mirable, On whose bright crest Fame with her loud‘st oyez Cries ’This is he!’, could promise to himself A thought of added honour torn from Hector.
AENEAS	There is expectance here from both the sides What further you will do.
HECTOR	We’ll answer it: The issue is embracement.—Ajax, farewell.
AJAX	If I might in entreaties find success, As seld I have the chance, I would desire My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.
DIOMEDES	’Tis Agamemnon’s wish—and great Achilles Doth long to see unarmed the valiant Hector.
HECTOR	Aeneas, call my brother Troilus to me, And signify this loving interview To the expecters of our Trojan part.
(didascalia)	Desire them home. Exit Aeneas
HECTOR	Give me thy hand, my cousin. I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.
(didascalia)	Enter Agamemnon and the rest: Aeneas, Ulysses,
HECTOR	Menelaus, Nestor, Achilles, Patroclus, Troilus, and others
AJAX	Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
HECTOR	(to Aeneas) 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.
AGAMEMNON	(embracing him) 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 strewed with husks And formless ruin of oblivion, But in this extant moment faith and troth, Strained purely from all hollow bias-drawing, Bids thee with most divine integrity From heart of very heart, ‘Great Hector, welcome!’
HECTOR	I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.
(didascalia)	AGAMEMNON to Troilus
HECTOR	My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.
MENELAUS	Let me confirm my princely brother’s greeting. You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
(didascalia)	He embraces Hector and Troilus
HECTOR	(to Aeneas) Who must we answer?
AENEAS	The noble Menelaus.
HECTOR	O, you, my lord! By Mars his gauntlet, thanks. Mock not that I affect th’untraded oath. Your quondam wife swears still by Venus’ glove. She’s well, but bade me not commend her to you.
MENELAUS	Name her not now, sir. She’s a deadly theme.
HECTOR	O, pardon. I offend.
NESTOR	I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way Through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have seen thee As hot as Perseus spur thy Phrygian steed, And seen thee scorning forfeits and subduements, When thou hast hung th‘advancèd sword i’th’ air, Not letting it decline on the declined, That I have said unto my standers-by, ‘Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life’. And 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 grandsire And once fought with him. He was a soldier good, But—by great Mars, the captain of us all— Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee; And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. He embraces Hector
AENEAS	(to Hector) ’Tis the old Nestor.
HECTOR	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.
NESTOR	I would my arms could match thee in contention As they contend with thee in courtesy.
HECTOR	I would they could.
NESTOR	Ha! By this white beard I’d fight with thee tomorrow. Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time.
ULYSSES	I wonder now how yonder city stands When we have here her base and pillar by us?
HECTOR	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 Ilium on your Greekish embassy.
ULYSSES	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 towers whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
HECTOR	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.
ULYSSES	So to him we leave it. Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome.
(didascalia)	He embraces him
ULYSSES	After the General, I beseech you next To feast with me and see me at my tent.
(didascalia)	I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses. To Hector Thou!
ACHILLES	Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee. I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint.
HECTOR	Is this Achilles?
ACHILLES	I am Achilles.
HECTOR	Stand fair, I pray thee, let me look on thee.
ACHILLES	Behold thy fill.
HECTOR	Nay, I have done already.
ACHILLES	Thou art too brief. I will the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
HECTOR	O, like a book of sport thou‘lt read me o’er. But there’s more in me than thou understand’st. Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?
ACHILLES	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 whereout Hector’s great spirit flew? Answer me, heavens.
HECTOR	It would discredit the blest gods, proud man, To answer such a question. Stand again. Think’st thou to catch my life so pleasantly As to prenominate in nice conjecture Where thou wilt hit me dead?
ACHILLES	I tell thee, yea.
HECTOR	Wert thou the 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 stithied Mars his 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 endeavour deeds to match these words, Or may I never—
AJAX	Do not chafe thee, cousin.— And you, Achilles, let these threats alone, Till accident or purpose bring you to’t. 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.
HECTOR	(to Achilles) I pray you, let us see you in the field. We have had pelting wars since you refused The Grecians’ cause.
ACHILLES	Dost thou entreat me, Hector? Tomorrow do I meet thee, fell as death; Tonight, all friends.
HECTOR	Thy hand upon that match.
AGAMEMNON	First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent. There in the full convive you. Afterwards, As Hector’s leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat him. Beat loud the taborins, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt all but Troilus and Ulysses
TROILUS	My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
ULYSSES	At Menelaus’ tent, most princely Troilus. There Diomed doth feast with him tonight— Who neither looks on heaven nor on earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid.
TROILUS	Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon’s tent, To bring me thither?
ULYSSES	You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there That wails her absence?
TROILUS	O sir, to such as boasting show their scars A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? She was beloved, she loved; she is, and doth. But still sweet love is food for fortune’s tooth. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles and Patroclus
ACHILLES	I’ll heat his blood with Greekish wine tonight, Which with my scimitar I’ll cool tomorrow. Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
PATROCLUS	Here comes Thersites.
(didascalia)	Enter Thersites
ACHILLES	How now, thou core of envy, Thou crusty botch of nature, what’s the news?
THERSITES	Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot-worshippers, here’s a letter for thee.
ACHILLES	From whence, fragment?
THERSITES	Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. Achilles reads the letter
PATROCLUS	Who keeps the tent now?
THERSITES	The surgeon’s box or the patient’s wound.
PATROCLUS	Well said, adversity. And what need these tricks?
THERSITES	Prithee be silent, boy. I profit not by thy talk. Thou art thought to be Achilles’ male varlet.
PATROCLUS	‘Male varlet’, you rogue? What’s that?
THERSITES	Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten diseases of the south, guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o’ gravel i’th’ back, lethargies, cold palsies, and the like, take and take again such preposterous discoveries!
PATROCLUS	Why, thou damnable box of envy thou, what mean’st thou to curse thus?
THERSITES	Do I curse thee?
PATROCLUS	Why, no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no.
THERSITES	No? Why art thou then exasperate? Thou idle immaterial skein of sleave-silk, thou green sarsenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal’s purse, thou! Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such waterflies! Diminutives of nature.
PATROCLUS	Out, gall!
THERSITES	Finch egg!
ACHILLES	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 gaging me to keep An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it. Fall, Greeks; fail, fame; honour, or go or stay. My major vow lies here; this I’ll obey.— Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent. This night in banqueting must all be spent.— Away, Patroclus. Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus
THERSITES	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 curer of madmen. Here’s Agamemnon: an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he has not so much brain as ear-wax. And the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother the bull, the primitive statue and oblique memorial of cuckolds, a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother’s leg: to what form but that he is should wit larded with malice and malice farced with wit turn him to? To an ass were nothing: he is both ass and ox. To an ox were nothing: he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menetaus!—I would conspire against destiny. Ask me not what I would be if I were not Thersites, for I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menetaus.—Hey-day, sprites and fires.
(didascalia)	Enter Hector, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor,
THERSITES	Menelaus, Troilus, and Diomedes, with lights
AGAMEMNON	We go wrong, we go wrong.
AJAX	No, yonder ’tis: There, where we see the light.
HECTOR	I trouble you.
AJAX	No, not a whit.
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles
ULYSSES	Here comes himself to guide you.
ACHILLES	Welcome, brave Hector. Welcome, princes all.
AGAMEMNON	(to Hector) So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good night. Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.
HECTOR	Thanks and good night to the Greeks’ general.
MENELAUS	Good night, my lord.
HECTOR	Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus.
THERSITES	(aside) Sweet draught! ‘Sweet’, quoth a? Sweet sink, sweet sewer.
ACHILLES	Good night and welcome both at once, to those That go or tarry.
AGAMEMNON	Good night.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus
ACHILLES	Old Nestor tarries, and you too, Diomed. Keep Hector company an hour or two.
DIOMEDES	I cannot, lord. I have important business The tide whereof is now.—Good night, great Hector.
HECTOR	Give me your hand.
ULYSSES	(aside to Troilus) Follow his torch, he goes to Calchas’ tent. I’ll keep you company.
TROILUS	(aside) Sweet sir, you honour me.
HECTOR	(to Diomedes) And so good night.
ACHILLES	Come, come, enter my tent.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Diomedes, followed by Ulysses and
ACHILLES	Troilus, at one door; and Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and Nestor at another door
THERSITES	That same Diomed’s a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave. I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent when he hisses. He will spend his mouth and promise like Brabbler the hound, but when he performs astronomers foretell it: that is prodigious, there will come some change. The sun borrows of the moon when Diomed 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 his tent. I’ll after.—Nothing but lechery! All incontinent varlets! Exit

Atto 5, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes
DIOMEDES	What, are you up here? Ho! Speak!
(didascalia)	CALCHAS at the door Who calls?
DIOMEDES	Diomed. Calchas, I think. Where’s your daughter?
(didascalia)	CALCHAS at the door She comes to you.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus and Ulysses, unseen
ULYSSES	(aside) Stand where the torch may not discover us.
TROILUS	(aside) Cressid comes forth to him.
(didascalia)	Enter Cressida
DIOMEDES	How now, my charge?
CRESSIDA	Now, my sweet guardian. Hark, a word with you. She whispers to him.
(didascalia)	Enter Thersites, unseen
TROILUS	(aside) Yea, so familiar?
ULYSSES	(aside) She will sing any man at first sight.
THERSITES	(aside) And any man may sing her, if he can take her clef. She’s noted.
DIOMEDES	Will you remember?
CRESSIDA	Remember? Yes.
DIOMEDES	Nay, but do then, And let your mind be coupled with your words.
TROILUS	(aside) What should she remember?
ULYSSES	(aside) List!
CRESSIDA	Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.
THERSITES	(aside) Roguery.
DIOMEDES	Nay, then!
CRESSIDA	I’ll tell you what—
DIOMEDES	Fo, fo! Come, tell a pin. You are forsworn.
CRESSIDA	In faith, I cannot. What would you have me do?
THERSITES	(aside) A juggling trick: to be secretly open.
DIOMEDES	What did you swear you would bestow on me?
CRESSIDA	I prithee, do not hold me to mine oath. Bid me do anything but that, sweet Greek.
DIOMEDES	Good night.
TROILUS	(aside) Hold, patience!
ULYSSES	(aside) How now, Trojan?
CRESSIDA	Diomed.
DIOMEDES	No, no, good night. I’ll be your fool no more.
TROILUS	(aside) Thy better must.
CRESSIDA	Hark, one word in your ear. She whispers to him
TROILUS	(aside) O plague and madness!
ULYSSES	(aside) 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 right deadly. I beseech you go.
TROILUS	(aside) Behold, I pray you.
ULYSSES	(aside) Nay, good my lord, go off. You flow to great distraction. Come, my lord.
TROILUS	(aside) I prithee, stay.
ULYSSES	(aside) You have not patience. Come.
TROILUS	(aside) I pray you, stay. By hell and all hell’s torments, I will not speak a word.
DIOMEDES	And so good night.
CRESSIDA	Nay, but you part in anger.
TROILUS	(aside) Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth!
ULYSSES	(aside) Why, how now, lord?
TROILUS	(aside) By Jove, I will be patient.
(didascalia)	Diomedes starts to go
CRESSIDA	Guardian! Why, Greek!
DIOMEDES	Fo, fo! Adieu. You palter.
CRESSIDA	In faith, I do not. Come hither once again.
ULYSSES	(aside) You shake, my lord, at something. Will you go? You will break out.
TROILUS	(aside) She strokes his cheek.
ULYSSES	(aside) Come, come.
TROILUS	(aside) 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.
THERSITES	(aside) How the devil Luxury with his fat rump and potato finger tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry.
DIOMEDES	But will you then?
CRESSIDA	In faith, I will, la. Never trust me else.
DIOMEDES	Give me some token for the surety of it.
CRESSIDA	I’ll fetch you one. Exit
ULYSSES	(aside) You have sworn patience.
TROILUS	(aside) Fear me not, sweet lord. I will not be myself, nor have cognition Of what I feel. I am all patience.
(didascalia)	Enter Cressida with Troilus’ sleeve
THERSITES	(aside) Now the pledge! Now, now, now.
CRESSIDA	Here Diomed, keep this sleeve.
TROILUS	(aside) O beauty, where is thy faith?
ULYSSES	(aside) My lord.
TROILUS	(aside) I will be patient; outwardly I will.
CRESSIDA	You look upon that sleeve. Behold it well. He loved me—O false wench!—give’t me again. She takes it back
DIOMEDES	Whose was’t?
CRESSIDA	It is no matter, now I ha’t again. I will not meet with you tomorrow night. I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more.
THERSITES	(aside) Now she sharpens. Well said, whetstone.
DIOMEDES	I shall have it.
CRESSIDA	What, this?
DIOMEDES	Ay, that.
CRESSIDA	O all you gods! O pretty pretty pledge! Thy master now lies thinking on his bed Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove And gives memorial dainty kisses to it—
(didascalia)	DIOMEDES
CRESSIDA	As I kiss thee.
(didascalia)	he snatches the sieeve
(didascalia)	CRESSiDA Nay, do not snatch it from me.
CRESSIDA	He that takes that doth take my heart withal.
DIOMEDES	I had your heart before; this follows it.
TROILUS	(aside) I did swear patience.
CRESSIDA	You shall not have it, Diomed. Faith, you shall not. I’ll give you something else.
DIOMEDES	I will have this. Whose was it?
CRESSIDA	It is no matter.
DIOMEDES	Come, tell me whose it was?
CRESSIDA	’Twas one’s that loved me better than you will. But now you have it, take it.
DIOMEDES	Whose was it?
CRESSIDA	By all Diana’s waiting-women yond, And by herself, I will not tell you whose.
DIOMEDES	Tomorrow will I wear it on my helm, And grieve his spirit that dares, not challenge it.
TROILUS	(aside) Wert thou the devil and wor’st it on thy horn, It should be challenged.
CRESSIDA	Well, well, ‘tis done, ’tis past—and yet it is not. I will not keep my word.
DIOMEDES	Why then, farewell. Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.
CRESSIDA	You shall not go. One cannot speak a word But it straight starts you.
DIOMEDES	I do not like this fooling.
(didascalia)	TROILUS (aside)
DIOMEDES	Nor I, by Pluto—but that that likes not you Pleases me best.
DIOMEDES	What, shall I come? The hour—
CRESSIDA	Ay, come. O Jove, do come. I shall be plagued.
DIOMEDES	Farewell till then.
CRESSIDA	Good night. I prithee, come.
(didascalia)	Exit Diomedes
CRESSIDA	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
THERSITES	(aside) A proof of strength she could not publish more Unless she said, ‘My mind is now turned whore’.
ULYSSES	All’s done, my lord.
TROILUS	It is.
ULYSSES	Why stay we then?
TROILUS	To make a recordation to my soul Of every syllable that here 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 esperance so obstinately strong, That doth invert th’attest of eyes and ears, As if those organs had deceptious functions Created only to calumniate. Was Cressid here?
ULYSSES	I cannot conjure, Trojan.
TROILUS	She was not, sure.
ULYSSES	Most sure, she was.
TROILUS	Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.
ULYSSES	Nor mine, my lord. Cressid was here but now.
TROILUS	Let it not be believed, for womanhood. Think: we had mothers. Do not give advantage To stubborn critics, apt without a theme For depravation to square the general sex By Cressid’s rule. Rather, think this not Cressid.
ULYSSES	What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our mothers?
TROILUS	Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
THERSITES	(aside) Will a swagger himself out on’s own eyes?
TROILUS	This, she? No, this is Diomed’s Cressida. If beauty have a soul, this is not she. If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies, If sanctimony be the gods’ delight, If there be rule in unity itself, This is not she. O madness of discourse, That cause sets up with and against thyselfl Bifold authority, where reason can revolt Without perdition, and loss assume all reason Without revolt! This is and is not Cressid.
(didascalia)	Within my soul there doth conduce a fight
TROILUS	Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate Divides more wider than the sky and earth, And yet the spacious breadth of this division Admits no orifex for a point as subtle As Ariachne’s broken woof to enter. Instance, O instance, strong as Pluto’s gates: Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven. Instance, O 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 o’er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.
ULYSSES	May worthy Troilus e’en be half attached With that which here his passion doth express?
TROILUS	Ay, Greek, and that shall be divulged well In characters as red as Mars his heart Inflamed with Venus. Never did young man fancy With so eternal and so fixed a soul. Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressid love, So much by weight hate I her Diomed. That sleeve is mine that he’ll bear in his helm. Were it a casque composed by Vulcan’s skill, My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful spout Which shipmen do the hurricano call, Constringed in mass by the almighty sun, Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune’s ear In his descent, than shall my prompted sword Falling on Diomed.
THERSITES	(aside) He’ll tickle it for his concupy.
TROILUS	O Cressid, O false Cressid! False, false, false. Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, And they’ll seem glorious.
ULYSSES	O contain yourself. Your passion draws ears hither.
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas
AENEAS	(to Troilus) 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.
TROILUS	Have with you, Prince.—My courteous lord, adieu.— Farewell, revolted fair; and Diomed, Stand fast and wear a castle on thy head.
ULYSSES	I’ll bring you to the gates.
TROILUS	Accept distracted thanks.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Troilus, Aeneas, and Ulysses
THERSITES	Would I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like a raven. I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me anything for the intelligence of this whore. The parrot will not do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, lechery, still wars and lechery! Nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil take them! Exit

Atto 5, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Hector armed, and Andromache
ANDROMACHE	When was my lord so much ungently tempered To stop his ears against admonishment? Unarm, unarm, and do not fight today.
HECTOR	You train me to offend you. Get you in. By all the everlasting gods, I’ll go.
ANDROMACHE	My dreams will sure prove ominous to the day.
HECTOR	No more, I say.
(didascalia)	Enter Cassandra
CASSANDRA	Where is my brother Hector?
ANDROMACHE	Here, sister, armed and bloody in intent. Consort with me in loud and dear petition, Pursue we him on knees—for I have dreamed Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.
CASSANDRA	O ’tis true.
HECTOR	Ho! Bid my trumpet sound.
CASSANDRA	No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother.
HECTOR	Begone, I say. The gods have heard me swear.
CASSANDRA	The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows. They are polluted off’rings, more abhorred Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
ANDROMACHE	(to Hector) O, be persuaded. Do not count it holy 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.
CASSANDRA	It is the purpose that makes strong the vow, But vows to every purpose must not hold. Unarm, sweet Hector.
HECTOR	Hold you still, I say. Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate. Life every man holds dear, but the dear man Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus, armed
HECTOR	How now, young man, mean’st thou to fight today?
(didascalia)	ANDROMACHE aside
HECTOR	Cassandra, call my father to persuade. Exit Cassandra
HECTOR	No, faith, young Troilus. Doff thy harness, youth. I am today i’th’ 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.
TROILUS	Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you, Which better fits a lion than a man.
HECTOR	What vice is that? Good Troilus, chide me for it.
TROILUS	When many times the captive Grecian falls Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, You bid them rise and live.
HECTOR	O ’tis fair play.
TROILUS	Fool’s play, by heaven, Hector.
HECTOR	How now! How now!
TROILUS	For th’ love of all the gods, Let’s leave the hermit pity with our mother And, when we have our armours buckled on, The venomed vengeance ride upon our swords, Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.
HECTOR	Fie, savage, fie!
TROILUS	Hector, then ’tis wars.
HECTOR	Troilus, I would not have you fight today.
TROILUS	Who should withhold me? Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars Beck‘ning with fiery truncheon my retire, Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, Their eyes o’er-gallèd with recourse of tears, Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn Opposed to hinder me, should stop my way But by my ruin.
(didascalia)	Enter Priam and Cassandra
CASSANDRA	Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast. He is thy crutch: now if thou loose thy stay, Thou on him leaning and all Troy on thee, Fall all together.
PRIAM	Come, Hector, come. Go back. Thy wife hath dreamt, thy mother hath had visions, Cassandra doth foresee, and I myself Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt To tell thee that this day is ominous. Therefore come back.
HECTOR	Aeneas is afield, And I do stand engaged to many Greeks, Even in the faith of valour, to appear This morning to them.
PRIAM	Ay, but thou shalt not go.
(didascalia)	HECTOR kneeling I must not break my faith.
PRIAM	You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sire, 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.
CASSANDRA	O Priam, yield not to him.
ANDROMACHE	Do not, dear father.
HECTOR	Andromache, I am offended with you. Upon the love you bear me, get you in.
(didascalia)	Exit Andromache
TROILUS	This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl Makes all these bodements.
CASSANDRA	O farewell, dear Hector. Look how thou diest; look how thy eye turns pale; Look how thy wounds do bleed at many vents. Hark how Troy roars, how Hecuba cries out, How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth. Behold: distraction, frenzy, and amazement Like witless antics one another meet, And all cry ‘Hector, Hector’s dead, O Hector!’
TROILUS	Away, away!
CASSANDRA	Farewell. Yet soft: Hector, I take my leave. Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. Exit
HECTOR	(to Priam) You are amazed, my liege, at her exclaim. Go in and cheer the town. We’ll forth and fight, Do deeds of praise, and tell you them at night.
PRIAM	Farewell. The gods with safety stand about thee.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Priam and Hector severally. Alarum
TROILUS	They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe I come to lose my arm or win my sleeve.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
PANDARUS	Do you hear, my lord, do you hear?
TROILUS	What now?
PANDARUS	Here’s a letter come from yon poor girl.
TROILUS	Let me read. Troilus reads the letter
PANDARUS	A whoreson phthisic, a whoreson rascally phthisic 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 rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones that unless a man were cursed I cannot tell what to think on’t.—What says she there? no
TROILUS	(tearing the letter) Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart. Th’effect doth operate another way. Go, wind, to wind: there turn and change together. My love with words and errors still she feeds, But edifies another with her deeds.
PANDARUS	Why, but hear you—
TROILUS	Hence, broker-lackey! Ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 5, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter Thersites in excursions
THERSITES	Now they are clapper-clawing one another. I’ll go look on. That dissembling abominable varlet Diomed has got that same scurvy doting foolish young knave’s sleeve of Troy there in his helm. I would fain see them meet, that that same young Trojan ass that loves the whore there might send that Greekish whoremasterly villain with the sleeve back to the dissembling luxurious drab of a sleeveless errand. O‘th’ t’other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals—that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese Nestor and that same dog-fox Ulysses—is proved not worth a blackberry. They set me up in policy that mongrel cur Ajax against that dog of as bad a kind Achilles. And now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm today—whereupon the Grecians began to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion.
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes, followed by Troilus
THERSITES	Soft, here comes sleeve and t’other.
TROILUS	(to Diomedes) Fly not, for shouldst thou take the river Styx I would swim after.
DIOMEDES	Thou dost miscall retire. I do not fly, but advantageous care Withdrew me from the odds of multitude. Have at thee! They fight
THERSITES	Hold thy whore, Grecian! Now for thy whore, Trojan! Now the sleeve, now the sleeve!
(didascalia)	Exit Diomedes driving in Troilus
(didascalia)	Enter Hector behind
HECTOR	What art thou, Greek? Art thou for Hector’s match? Art thou of blood and honour?
THERSITES	No, no, I am a rascal, a scurvy railing knave, a very filthy rogue.
HECTOR	I do believe thee: live.
THERSITES	God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me—
(didascalia)	Exit Hector
THERSITES	but a plague break thy neck for frighting me. What’s become of the wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at that miracle—yet in a sort lechery eats itself. I’ll seek them.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 5, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes and Servants
DIOMEDES	Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus’ 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.
SERVANT	I go, my lord. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Agamemnon
AGAMEMNON	Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas Hath beat down Menon; bastard Margareton Hath Doreus prisoner, And stands colossus-wise waving his beam Upon the pashèd corpses of the kings Epistropus and Cedius; Polixenes is slain, Amphimacus and Thoas deadly hurt, Patroclus ta’en or slain, and Palamedes Sore hurt and bruised; the dreadful sagittary Appals our numbers. Haste we, Diomed, To reinforcement, or we perish all.
(didascalia)	Enter Nestor
(didascalia)	with Patroclus’ body
NESTOR	Go, bear Patroclus’ body to Achilles, And bid the snail-paced Ajax arm for shame.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more with the body
NESTOR	There is a thousand Hectors in the field. Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, And there lacks work; anon he’s there afoot, And there they fly or die, like scalèd schools Before the belching whale. Then is he yonder, And there the strawy Greeks, ripe 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Ulysses
ULYSSES	O courage, courage, princes! Great Achilles Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance. Patroclus’ wounds have roused his drowsy blood, Together with his mangled Myrmidons, 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 Troitus—who hath done today Mad and fantastic execution, Engaging and redeeming of himself With such a careless force and forceless care As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, Bade him win all.
(didascalia)	Enter Ajax
AJAX	Troilus, thou coward Troitus! Exit
(didascalia)	DIOMEDES Ay, there, there! Exit
NESTOR	So, so, we draw together.
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles
ACHILLES	Where is this Hector? Come, come, thou brave boy-queller, show thy face. Know what it is to meet Achilles angry. Hector! Where’s Hector? I will none but Hector.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ajax
AJAX	Troilus, thou coward Troilus! Show thy head!
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes
DIOMEDES	Troilus, I say! Where’s Troilus?
AJAX	What wouldst thou? DIOMEDES I would correct him.
AJAX	Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office Ere that correction.—Troitus, I say! What, Troilus!
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
TROILUS	O traitor Diomed! Turn thy false face, thou traitor, And pay the life thou ow’st me for my horse.
DIOMEDES	Ha, art thou there?
AJAX	I’ll fight with him alone. Stand, Diomed.
DIOMEDES	He is my prize; I will not look upon.
TROILUS	Come, both you cogging Greeks, have at you both! They fight.
(didascalia)	Enter Hector
HECTOR	Yea, Troilus? O well fought, my youngest brother!
(didascalia)	Exit Troilus driving Diomedes and Ajax in
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles behind
ACHILLES	Now do I see thee.—Ha! Have at thee, Hector.
(didascalia)	They fight. Achilles is bested
HECTOR	Pause, if thou wilt.
ACHILLES	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 shalt here of me again. Till when, go seek thy fortune. Exit
HECTOR	Fare thee well. I would have been much more a fresher man Had I expected thee.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus ain haste
HECTOR	How now, my brother?
TROILUS	Ajax hath ta‘en Aeneas. Shall it be? No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven, He shall not carry him. I’ll be ta’en too, Or bring him off. Fate, hear me what I say: I reck not though thou end my life today. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter one in sumptuous armour
HECTOR	Stand, stand, thou Greek! Thou art a goodly mark. No? Wilt thou not? I like thy armour well. I’ll frush it and unlock the rivets all,
(didascalia)	But I’ll be master of it. Exit one in armour
HECTOR	Wilt thou not, beast, abide? Why then, fly on; I’ll hunt thee for thy hide. Exit

Atto 5, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles with Myrmidons
ACHILLES	Come here about me, you my Myrmidons. 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, Empale him with your weapons round about. In fellest manner execute your arms. Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye. It is decreed Hector the great must die. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 8

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Menelaus and Paris, fighting, then Thersites
THERSITES	The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it.—Now, bull! Now, dog! ‘Loo, Paris, ’loo! Now, my double-horned Spartan! ’Loo, Paris, ’loo! The bull has the game. Ware horns, ho!
(didascalia)	Exit Menelaus driving in Paris
(didascalia)	Enter Bastard behind
BASTARD	Turn, slave, and fight.
THERSITES	What art thou?
BASTARD	A bastard son of Priam’s.
(didascalia)	THERSITES I am a bastard, too. I love bastards. I am bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in everything illegitimate. One bear will not bite 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 judgement. Farewell, bastard. Exit
BASTARD	The devil take thee, coward. Exit

Atto 5, Scena 9

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Hector dragging the one in sumptuous armour
(didascalia)	HECTOR taking off the helmet
(didascalia)	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. He disarms.
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons, surrounding
(didascalia)	Hector
ACHILLES	Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set, How ugly night comes breathing at his heels. Even with the veil and dark’ning of the sun To close the day up, Hector’s life is done.
HECTOR	I am unarmed. Forgo this vantage, Greek.
ACHILLES	Strike, fellows, strike! This is the man I seek.
(didascalia)	The Myrmidons kill Hector
ACHILLES	So, Ilium, fall thou. Now, Troy, sink down. Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.— On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain, ‘Achilles hath the mighty Hector stain!’ A retreat is sounded Hark, a retire upon our Grecian part.
(didascalia)	Another retreat is sounded
ACHILLES	A MYRMIDON The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.
ACHILLES	The dragon wing of night o’erspreads the earth And, stickler-like, the armies separates. My half-supped sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleased with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed. He sheathes his sword Come, tie his body to my horse’s tail. Along the field I will the Trojan trail.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, dragging the bodies

Atto 5, Scena 10

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A retreat is sounded. Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomedes, and the rest, marching. A shout within
AGAMEMNON	Hark, hark! What shout is that?
NESTOR	Peace, drums.
MYRMIDONS	(within) Achilles! Achilles! Hector’s slain! Achilles!
DIOMEDES	The bruit is: Hector’s slain, and by Achilles.
AJAX	If it be so, yet bragless let it be. Great Hector was a man as good as he.
AGAMEMNON	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt marching

Atto 5, Scena 11

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas, Paris, Antenor, and Deiphobus
AENEAS	Stand, ho! Yet are we masters of the field. Never go home; here starve we out the night.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
TROILUS	Hector is slain.
ALL THE OTHERS	Hector? The gods forbid.
TROILUS	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 at Troy. I say, at once: let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on.
AENEAS	My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
TROILUS	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 Hecuba? Let him that will a screech-owl aye be called Go into Troy and say their Hector’s dead. There is a word will Priam turn to stone, Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, Cold statues of the youth, and 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, I’ll through and through you! And thou great-sized coward, No space of earth shall sunder our two hates. I’ll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy’s thoughts. Strike a free march! To Troy with comfort go: Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
(didascalia)	Exeunt marching
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	A. The Quarto (below) gives a more elaborate version of Thersites’ speech at 5.1.17-21.
THERSITES	Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, loads o’ gravel in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of impostume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i’th’ palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries. B. The Quarto gives a different ending to the play (which the Folio inadvertently repeats).
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
PANDARUS	But hear you, hear you.
(didascalia)	Hence, broker-lackey. Strikes him Ignomy and shame
TROILUS	Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Pandarus
PANDARUS	A goodly medicine for my aching bones. O world, world, world!—thus is the poor agent despised. O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so desired 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 in armèd tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths: As many as be here of Pandar’s hall, Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar’s fall. Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. Brethren and sisters of the hold-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
SONNETS AND	‘A LOVER’S COMPLAINT’
SHAKESPEARE’S	Sonnets were published as a collection by Thomas Thorpe in 1609; the title-page declared that they were ‘never before imprinted’. Versions of two of them- 138 and 144—had appeared in 1599, in The Passionate Pilgrim , a collection ascribed to Shakespeare but including some poems certainly written by other authors; and in the previous year Francis Meres, in Palladis Tamia, had alluded to Shakespeare’s ‘sugared sonnets among his private friends’. The sonnet sequence had enjoyed a brief but intense vogue from the publication of Sir Philip Sidney’s Astrophil and Stella in 1591 till about 1597. Some of Shakespeare’s plays of this period reflect the fashion: in the comedy of Love’s Labour’s Lost the writing of sonnets is seen as a laughable symptom of love, and in the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet both speeches of the Chorus and the lovers’ first conversation are in sonnet form. Later plays use it, too, but it seems likely that most of Shakespeare’s sonnets were first written during this period. But there are indications that some of them were revised; the two printed in The Passionate Pilgrim differ at certain points from Thorpe’s version, and two other sonnets (2 and 106) exist in manuscript versions which also are not identical with those published in the sequence. We print these as ‘Alternative Versions’ of Sonnets 2, 106, 138, and 144. The order in which Thorpe printed the Sonnets has often been questioned, but is not entirely haphazard: all the first seventeen, and no later ones, exhort a young man to marry; all those clearly addressed to one or more men are among the first 126, and all those clearly addressed to, or concerned with, one or more women (the ‘dark lady’) follow. Some of the sonnets in the second group appear to refer to events that prompted sonnets in the first group; it seems likely that the poems were rearranged after composition. Moreover, the volume contains ‘A Lover’s Complaint’, clearly ascribed to Shakespeare, which stylistic evidence suggests was written in the early seventeenth century and which may have been intended as a companion piece. So, printing the Sonnets in Thorpe’s order, we place them according to the likely date of their revision. Textual evidence suggests that Thorpe printed from a transcript by someone other than Shakespeare. His volume bears a dedication over his own initials to ‘Mr W.H.’; we do not know whether this derives from the manuscript, and can only speculate about the dedicatee’s identity. His initials are those of Shakespeare’s only known dedicatee, Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, but in reverse order. We have even less clue as to the identity of the Sonnets’ other personae, who include a rival poet and a dark woman. Shakespeare’s Sonnets may not be autobiographical, but they are certainly unconventional: the most idealistic poems celebrating love’s mutuality are addressed by one man to another, and the poems clearly addressed to a woman revile her morals, speak ill of her appearance, and explore the poet’s self-disgust at his entanglement with her. The Sonnets include some of the finest love poems in the English language: the sequence itself presents an internal drama of great psychological complexity.
THESE.ENSUING.SONNETS.	M r .W.H. ALL.HAPPINESS.

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus, and Troilus armed
TROILUS	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 Betd—Troitus, alas, hath none.
PANDARUS	Will this gear ne’er be mended?
TROILUS	The Greeks are strong, and skilful 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 skilless as unpractised infancy.
PANDARUS	Well, I have told you enough of this. For my part, I’ll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding.
TROILUS	Have I not tarried?
PANDARUS	Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the boulting.
TROILUS	Have I not tarried?
PANDARUS	Ay, the boulting; but you must tarry the leavening.
TROILUS	Still have I tarried.
PANDARUS	Ay, to the leavening; but here’s yet in the word ‘hereafter’ the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating the oven, and the baking—nay, you must stay the cooling too, or ye may chance burn your lips.
TROILUS	Patience herself, what goddess e‘er she be, Doth lesser blench at suff’rance than I do. At Priam’s royal table do I sit And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts— So, traitor! ‘When she comes’? When is she thence?
PANDARUS	Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
TROILUS	I was about to tell thee: 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 askance, Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile. But sorrow that is couched in seeming gladness Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
PANDARUS	An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen‘s—well, go to, 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 dispraise your sister Cassandra’s wit, but—
TROILUS	O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus, When I do tell thee ‘There my hopes lie drowned’, Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie endrenched. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid’s love; thou answer’st ‘She is fair’, Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice; Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure The cygnet’s down is harsh, and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman. This thou tell’st me— As true thou tell‘st me—when I say I love her. But saying thus, instead of oil and balm Thou lay’st in every gash that love hath given me The knife that made it.
PANDARUS	I speak no more than truth.
TROILUS	Thou dost not speak so much.
PANDARUS	Faith, I’ll not meddle in it. Let her be as she is. If she be fair, ’tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.
TROILUS	Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus!
PANDARUS	I have had my labour for my travail. Ill thought on of her and ill thought on of you. Gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.
TROILUS	What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with me?
PANDARUS	Because she’s kin to me, therefore she’s not so fair as Helen. An she were not kin to me, she would be as fair o’ Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a blackamoor. ’Tis all one to me.
TROILUS	Say I she is not fair?
PANDARUS	I do not care whether you do or no. She’s a fool to 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 i’th’ matter.
TROILUS	Pandarus—
PANDARUS	Not I.
TROILUS	Sweet Pandarus—
PANDARUS	Pray you, speak no more to me. I will leave all as I found it. And there an end.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Alarum
TROILUS	Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds! Fools on both sides. Helen must needs be fair When with your blood you daily paint her thus. I cannot fight upon this argument. It is too starved a subject for my sword. But Pandarus—O gods, how do you plague me! I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar, And he’s as tetchy to be wooed to woo As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne’s love, What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl. Between our Ilium and where she resides Let it be called the wild and wand’ring flood, Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our barque.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter Aeneas
AENEAS	How now, Prince Troilus? Wherefore not afield?
TROILUS	Because not there. This woman’s answer sorts, For womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Aeneas, from the field today?
AENEAS	That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
TROILUS	By whom, Aeneas?
AENEAS	Troilus, by Menelaus.
TROILUS	Let Paris bleed, ’tis but a scar to scorn: Paris is gored with Menelaus’ horn.
(didascalia)	Alarum
AENEAS	Hark what good sport is out of town today.
TROILUS	Better at home, if ‘would I might’ were ‘may’. But to the sport abroad—are you bound thither?
AENEAS	In all swift haste.
TROILUS	Come, go we then together. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Pandaro, e Troilo in armi
TROILO	Chiamate qui il mio scudiero. Voglio disarmarmi ancora. Perché dovrei guerreggiare fuori dalle mura di Troia, io che trovo qui dentro battaglia sì crudele? Ogni Troiano che sia padrone del proprio cuore, vada a Betd—Troitus, ahimè, non ne ha alcuno.
PANDARO	Non si porrà mai rimedio a questa faccenda?
TROILO	I Greci sono forti, e alla loro forza pari è l’arte, feroci all’arte loro, e alla ferocia valorosi. Ma io son più debole della lacrima d’una donna, più mansueto del sonno, più sciocco dell’ignoranza, meno valoroso della vergine nella notte, e inesperto come infanzia senza pratica.
PANDARO	Bene, di questo ve n’ho detto abbastanza. Per parte mia, non m’impiccerò né m’intrometterò più oltre. Chi vuole la focaccia dal grano deve aspettare la macinatura.
TROILO	Non ho aspettato?
PANDARO	Sì, la macinatura; ma dovete aspettare la setacciatura.
TROILO	Non ho aspettato?
PANDARO	Sì, la setacciatura; ma dovete aspettare la lievitazione.
TROILO	Anche questo ho aspettato.
PANDARO	Sì, fino alla lievitazione; ma nella parola ‘poi’ restano ancora l’impastare, il fare la focaccia, lo scaldare il forno, e la cottura—anzi, dovete attendere anche il raffreddamento, o vi potrà accadere di scottarvi le labbra.
TROILO	La Pazienza stessa, qual dea ella sia, meno di me trasalisce nel patire. Alla regal mensa di Priamo io siedo, e quando la bella Cressida mi viene in pensiero— Ah, traditore! ‘Quando viene’? E quando mai ne parte?
PANDARO	Bene, iersera appariva più bella di quanto io l’abbia mai vista, o qualunque altra donna.
TROILO	Stavo per dirti: quando il mio cuore, come spaccato da un sospiro, voleva fendersi in due, per timore che Ettore o mio padre s’accorgessero di me, io, come quando il sole illumina di traverso, ho sepolto quel sospiro nella piega d’un sorriso. Ma il dolore che sta celato in finta allegria è come quel riso che il fato volge in subita tristezza.
PANDARO	Se i suoi capelli non fossero un poco più scuri di quelli d’Elena—bene, via, non ci sarebbe più confronto fra le due donne. Ma, per parte mia, ella è mia parente; non vorrei, come dicono, ‘lodarla’. Però avrei voluto che qualcuno l’avesse sentita parlare ieri, come l’ho sentita io. Non voglio sparlare dell’ingegno di vostra sorella Cassandra, ma—
TROILO	O Pandaro! Io ti dico, Pandaro, quando ti dico ‘Là le mie speranze giacciono annegate’, non replicare a quante braccia di profondità stiano sommerse. Ti dico che son pazzo d’amore per Cressida; tu rispondi ‘È bella’, e versi nell’aperta piaga del mio cuore i suoi occhi, i suoi capelli, la guancia, l’andatura, la voce; maneggi nel tuo discorso, oh, quella sua mano, al cui paragone ogni biancore è inchiostro che scrive il proprio biasimo, al cui morbido tocco la piuma del cigno è ruvida, e il più fine spirito del senso duro come il palmo dell’aratore. Questo tu mi dici— e con verità me lo dici—quando io dico che l’amo. Ma dicendo così, invece d’olio e di balsamo tu poni in ogni squarcio che l’amore m’ha inflitto il coltello che l’ha aperto.
PANDARO	Non dico più che la verità.
TROILO	Non ne dici tanta.
PANDARO	In fede mia, non voglio impicciarmene. Sia com’è. Se è bella, tanto meglio per lei; se non lo è, ha in mano il rimedio da sé.
TROILO	Buon Pandaro, suvvia, Pandaro!
PANDARO	Ho avuto per compenso la mia fatica. Male giudicato da lei e male giudicato da voi. Andato avanti e indietro a far da mezzano, e poche grazie per il mio travaglio.
TROILO	Come, sei in collera, Pandaro? Come, con me?
PANDARO	Perché è mia parente, dunque non è bella come Elena. Se non fosse mia parente, sarebbe bella il venerdì quanto Elena lo è la domenica. Ma che m’importa? Non m’importerebbe s’ella fosse una mora d’Africa. Per me è tutt’uno.
TROILO	Ho detto io che non è bella?
PANDARO	Non m’importa che l’abbiate detto o no. È una sciocca a restare indietro, lontana dal padre. Vada dai Greci—e così le dirò la prossima volta che la vedrò. Per parte mia, non m’impiccerò né m’intrometterò più nella faccenda.
TROILO	Pandaro—
PANDARO	Io no.
TROILO	Dolce Pandaro—
PANDARO	Vi prego, non parlatemi più. Lascerò tutto come l’ho trovato. E qui finisca.
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme
TROILO	Pace, clamori sgraziati! Pace, suoni rozzi! Folli da entrambe le parti. Elena dev’essere bella per forza, se col vostro sangue la dipingete così ogni giorno. Io non posso combattere per questa causa. È soggetto troppo scarno per la mia spada. Ma Pandaro—o dèi, come mi tormentate! Non posso giungere a Cressida se non per mezzo di Pandaro, ed egli è tanto ritroso a farsi pregare di pregare quanto ella è ostinatamente casta contro ogni corteggiamento. Dimmi, Apollo, per l’amore della tua Dafne, che cosa è Cressida, che cosa Pandaro, e che cosa noi? Il suo letto è l’India; là ella giace, una perla. Fra il nostro Ilio e il luogo ov’ella dimora sia detto il flutto selvaggio ed errabondo, noi stessi il mercante, e questo Pandaro nocchiero la nostra dubbia speranza, la nostra scorta, e la nostra barca.
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme. Entra Enea
ENEA	Ebbene, principe Troilo? Perché non in campo?
TROILO	Perché non vi sono. Questa risposta da donna s’addice, ché femmineo è l’esserne lontano. Che nuove, Enea, dal campo oggi?
ENEA	Che Paride è tornato a casa, e ferito.
TROILO	Da chi, Enea?
ENEA	Troilo, da Menelao.
TROILO	Lasciate che Paride sanguini, non è che una cicatrice da schernire: Paride è stato incornato dal corno di Menelao.
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme
ENEA	Udite che bel diporto c’è oggi fuori città.
TROILO	Meglio in casa, se ‘vorrei potere’ fosse ‘posso’. Ma al diporto là fuori—siete diretto colà?
ENEA	In tutta rapida fretta.
TROILO	Venite, andiamo dunque insieme. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter above Cressida and her servant Alexander
CRESSIDA	Who were those went by?
ALEXANDER	Queen Hecuba and Helen.
CRESSIDA	And whither go they?
ALEXANDER	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 chid Andromache and struck his armourer And, like as there were husbandry 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.
CRESSIDA	What was his cause of anger?
ALEXANDER	The noise goes this: there is among the Greeks A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him Ajax.
CRESSIDA	Good, and what of him?
ALEXANDER	They say he is a very man per se, And stands alone.
CRESSIDA	So do all men Unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs.
ALEXANDER	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 farced with discretion. There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint 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 Briareus, many hands and no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.
CRESSIDA	But how should this man that makes me smile make Hector angry?
ALEXANDER	They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.
CRESSIDA	Who comes here?
ALEXANDER	Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus above
CRESSIDA	Hector’s a gallant man.
ALEXANDER	As may be in the world, lady.
PANDARUS	What’s that? What’s that?
CRESSIDA	Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
PANDARUS	Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you talk of?—Good morrow, Alexander.—How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium?
CRESSIDA	This morning, uncle.
PANDARUS	What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she?
CRESSIDA	Hector was gone but Helen was not up?
PANDARUS	E’en so. Hector was stirring early.
CRESSIDA	That were we talking of, and of his anger.
PANDARUS	Was he angry?
CRESSIDA	So he says here.
PANDARUS	True, he was so. I know the cause too. He’ll lay about him today, I can tell them that. And there’s Troilus will not come far behind him. Let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too.
CRESSIDA	What, is he angry too?
PANDARUS	Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.
CRESSIDA	O Jupiter! There’s no comparison.
PANDARUS	What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him?
CRESSIDA	Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him.
PANDARUS	Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.
CRESSIDA	Then you say as I say, for I am sure He is not Hector.
PANDARUS	No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees.
CRESSIDA	’Tis just to each of them: he is himself.
PANDARUS	Himself? Alas, poor Troilus, I would he were.
CRESSIDA	So he is.
PANDARUS	Condition I had gone barefoot to India.
CRESSIDA	He is not Hector.
PANDARUS	Himself ? No, he’s not himself. Would a were himself! Well, the gods are above, time must friend or end. Well, Troilus, well, I would my heart were in her body. No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.
CRESSIDA	Excuse me.
PANDARUS	He is elder.
CRESSIDA	Pardon me, pardon me.
PANDARUS	Th‘other’s not come to’t. You shall tell me another tale when th’other’s come to’t. Hector shall not have his will this year.
CRESSIDA	He shall not need it if he have his own.
PANDARUS	Nor his qualities.
CRESSIDA	No matter.
PANDARUS	Nor his beauty.
CRESSIDA	’Twould not become him; his own’s better.
PANDARUS	You have no judgement, niece. Helen herself swore th‘other day that Troilus for a brown favour, for so ’tis, I must confess—not brown neither—
CRESSIDA	No, but brown.
PANDARUS	Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
CRESSIDA	To say the truth, true and not true.
PANDARUS	She praised his complexion above Paris’.
CRESSIDA	Why, Paris hath colour enough.
PANDARUS	So he has.
CRESSIDA	Then Troilus should have too much. If she praised him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief Helen’s golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose.
PANDARUS	I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris.
CRESSIDA	Then she’s a merry Greek indeed.
PANDARUS	Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th’other day into the compassed window, and you know he has not past three or four hairs on his chin—
CRESSIDA	Indeed, a tapster’s arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total. no
PANDARUS	Why, he is very young—and yet will he within three pound lift as much as his brother Hector.
CRESSIDA	Is he so young a man and so old a lifter?
PANDARUS	But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin.
CRESSIDA	Juno have mercy! How came it cloven?
PANDARUS	Why, you know, ’tis dimpled. I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.
CRESSIDA	O he smiles valiantly.
PANDARUS	Does he not?
CRESSIDA	O yes, an’t were a cloud in autumn.
PANDARUS	Why, go to then. But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus—
CRESSIDA	Troilus will stand to the proof if you’ll prove it so.
PANDARUS	Troilus? Why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.
CRESSIDA	If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head you would eat chickens i’th’ shell.
PANDARUS	I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled his chin. Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess—
CRESSIDA	Without the rack.
PANDARUS	And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.
CRESSIDA	Alas, poor chin! Many a wart is richer.
PANDARUS	But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed that her eyes ran o’er.
CRESSIDA	With millstones.
PANDARUS	And Cassandra laughed.
CRESSIDA	But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes—or did her eyes run o’er too?
PINDARUS	And Hector laughed.
CRESSIDA	At what was all this laughing?
PANDARUS	Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus’ chin.
CRESSIDA	An’t had been a green hair I should have laughed too.
PANDARUS	They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.
CRESSIDA	What was his answer?
PANDARUS	Quoth she, ‘Here’s but two-and-fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.’
CRESSIDA	This is her question.
PINDARUS	That’s true, make no question of that. ‘Two-and-fifty hairs,’ quoth he, ‘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 he, ‘pluck’t out and give it him.’ But there was such laughing, and Helen so blushed and Paris so chafed and all the rest so laughed, that it passed.
CRESSIDA	So let it now, for it has been a great while going by.
PANDARUS	Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday. Think on’t.
CRESSIDA	So I do.
PANDARUS	I’ll be sworn ’tis true. He will weep you an’t were a man born in April.
CRESSIDA	And I’ll spring up in his tears an’t were a nettle against May. A retreat is sounded
PANDARUS	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.
CRESSIDA	At your pleasure.
PANDARUS	Here, here, here’s an excellent place, here we may see most bravely. I’ll tell you them all by their names as they pass by, but mark Troilus above the rest.
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas passing by below
CRESSIDA	Speak not so loud.
PANDARUS	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Antenor passing by below
CRESSIDA	Who’s that?
PANDARUS	That’s Antenor. He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you, and he’s a man good enough. He’s one o’th’ soundest judgements in Troy 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.
CRESSIDA	Will he give you the nod?
PANDARUS	You shall see.
CRESSIDA	If he do, the rich shall have more.
(didascalia)	Enter Hector passing by below
PANDARUS	That’s Hector, that, that, look you, that. There’s a fellow!—Go thy way, Hector!—There’s a brave man, niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks. There’s a countenance. Is’t not a brave man?
CRESSIDA	O a brave man.
PANDARUS	Is a not? 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 jesting. There’s laying on, take’t off who will, as they say. There be hacks.
CRESSIDA	Be those with swords?
(didascalia)	Enter Paris passing by below
PANDARUS	Swords, anything, he cares not. An 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 ye yonder, niece. Is’t not a gallant man too? Is’t 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, hal Would I could see Troilus now. You shall see Troilus anon.
(didascalia)	Enter Helenus passing by below
CRESSIDA	Who’s that?
PANDARUS	That’s Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That’s Helenus. I think he went not forth today. That’s Helenus.
CRESSIDA	Can Helenus fight, uncle?
PANDARUS	Helenus? No—yes, he’ll fight indifferent well. I marvel where Troilus is.
(didascalia)	A Shout
PANDARUS	Hark, do you not hear the people cry ‘Troilus’? Helenus is a priest.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus passing by below
CRESSIDA	What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
PANDARUS	Where? Yonder? That’s Deiphobus.—’Tis Troilus! There’s a man, niece, h’m? Brave Troilus, the prince of chivalry!
CRESSIDA	Peace, for shame, peace.
PANDARUS	Mark him, note him. O 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 I 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.
(didascalia)	Enter common soldiers passing by below
CRESSIDA	Here comes more.
PANDARUS	Asses, fools, dolts. Chaff and bran, chaff and bran. Porridge after meat. I could live and die i‘th’ eyes of Troilus. Ne’er look, ne’er look, the eagles are gone. Crows and daws, crows and daws. I had rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece.
CRESSIDA	There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.
PANDARUS	Achilles? A drayman, a porter, a very camel.
CRESSIDA	Well, well.
PANDARUS	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 so forth, the spice and salt that season a man?
CRESSIDA	Ay, a minced man—and then to be baked with no date in the pie, for then the man’s date is out.
PANDARUS	You are such another woman! One knows not at what ward you lie.
CRESSIDA	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.
PANDARUS	Say one of your watches.
CRESSIDA	‘Nay, I’ll watch you for that’—and that’s one of the chiefest of them too. If I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow—unless it swell past hiding, and then it’s past watching.
PANDARUS	You are such another!
(didascalia)	Enter Boy
BOY	Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.
PANDARUS	Where?
BOY	At your own house.
PANDARUS	Good boy, tell him I come.
(didascalia)	Exit Boy
PANDARUS	I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.
CRESSIDA	Adieu, uncle.
PANDARUS	I’ll be with you, niece, by and by.
CRESSIDA	To bring, uncle?
PANDARUS	Ay, a token from Troilus.
CRESSIDA	By the same token, you are a bawd.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Pandarus and Alexander
CRESSIDA	Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love’s full sacrifice He offers in another’s enterprise; But more in Troilus thousandfold I see Than in the glass of Pandar’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 naught that knows not this: Men price the thing ungained more than it is. That she was never yet that ever knew Love got so sweet as when desire did sue. Therefore this maxim out of love I teach: Achievement is command; ungained, beseech. Then though my heart’s contents firm love doth bear, Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano in alto Cressida e il suo servo Alessandro
CRESSIDA	Chi erano quelli che sono passati?
ALESSANDRO	La regina Ecuba ed Elena.
CRESSIDA	E dove vanno?
ALESSANDRO	Su alla torre orientale, la cui altezza domina soggetta tutta la valle, per vedere la battaglia. Ettore, la cui pazienza è come virtù saldamente fissa, oggi è stato commosso. Ha rimbrottato Andromaca e percosso il suo armaiolo e, come se in guerra vi fosse buona economia, prima che il sole sorgesse era armato di leggero, e va al campo, dove ogni fiore come profeta piangeva ciò che prevedeva nell’ira d’Ettore.
CRESSIDA	Qual era la causa della sua collera?
ALESSANDRO	La voce corre così: v’è fra i Greci un signore di sangue troiano, nipote d’Ettore; lo chiamano Aiace.
CRESSIDA	Bene, e che c’è di lui?
ALESSANDRO	Dicono ch’egli è un uomo per sé, e sta solo.
CRESSIDA	Così fanno tutti gli uomini, a meno che siano ubriachi, malati, o senza gambe.
ALESSANDRO	Quest’uomo, signora, ha derubato molte bestie dei loro particolari attributi: è valoroso come il leone, rozzo come l’orso, lento come l’elefante—un uomo in cui la natura ha stipato tanti umori che il suo valore è schiacciato in follia, e la sua follia farcita di discrezione. Non c’è uomo che abbia una virtù di cui egli non abbia un barlume, né uomo che abbia una macchia senza ch’egli ne porti qualche segno. È malinconico senza causa e allegro a contrappelo; ha le giunture d’ogni cosa, ma ogni cosa così slogata ch’egli è un Briareo gottoso, molte mani e nessun uso, o un Argo mezzo cieco, tutt’occhi e nessuna vista.
CRESSIDA	Ma come può quest’uomo che mi fa sorridere mettere in collera Ettore?
ALESSANDRO	Dicono che ieri affrontò Ettore nella battaglia e l’abbatté, e per lo sdegno e la vergogna di ciò Ettore da allora sta digiuno e insonne.
CRESSIDA	Chi viene qui?
ALESSANDRO	Signora, vostro zio Pandaro.
(didascalia)	Entra Pandaro in alto
CRESSIDA	Ettore è un uomo prode.
ALESSANDRO	Quanto altri al mondo, signora.
PANDARO	Che c’è? Che c’è?
CRESSIDA	Buon giorno, zio Pandaro.
PANDARO	Buon giorno, cugina Cressida. Di che parlate?—Buon giorno, Alessandro.—Come state, cugina? Quando siete stata a Ilio?
CRESSIDA	Stamattina, zio.
PANDARO	Di che parlavate quando son giunto? Era Ettore armato e partito prima che venissi a Ilio? Elena non era alzata, vero?
CRESSIDA	Ettore era partito ma Elena non era alzata?
PANDARO	Proprio così. Ettore si mosse presto.
CRESSIDA	Di questo parlavamo, e della sua collera.
PANDARO	Era in collera?
CRESSIDA	Così dice costui.
PANDARO	Vero, lo era. E ne conosco anche la causa. Oggi menerà colpi all’intorno, questo glielo posso dire. E c’è Troilo che non gli resterà molto indietro. Si guardino da Troilo, anche questo glielo posso dire.
CRESSIDA	Come, è in collera anche lui?
PANDARO	Chi, Troilo? Troilo è il migliore dei due.
CRESSIDA	O Giove! Non c’è confronto.
PANDARO	Come, non fra Troilo ed Ettore? Riconoscete un uomo se lo vedete?
CRESSIDA	Sì, se l’ho già visto prima e lo conoscevo.
PANDARO	Bene, io dico che Troilo è Troilo.
CRESSIDA	Allora dite come dico io, perché son certa che non è Ettore.
PANDARO	No, né Ettore è Troilo, sotto certi aspetti.
CRESSIDA	È giusto per ciascuno dei due: ognuno è se stesso.
PANDARO	Se stesso? Ahimè, povero Troilo, vorrei che lo fosse.
CRESSIDA	E lo è.
PANDARO	A patto che, sarei andato a piedi nudi fino in India.
CRESSIDA	Non è Ettore.
PANDARO	Se stesso? No, non è se stesso. Volesse il cielo che fosse se stesso! Bene, gli dèi stanno in alto, il tempo deve soccorrere o por fine. Bene, Troilo, bene, vorrei che il mio cuore fosse nel corpo di lei. No, Ettore non è uomo migliore di Troilo.
CRESSIDA	Scusatemi.
PANDARO	È più anziano.
CRESSIDA	Perdonatemi, perdonatemi.
PANDARO	L’altro non ci è ancora arrivato. Mi racconterete un’altra storia quando l’altro ci sarà arrivato. Ettore non otterrà il suo volere quest’anno.
CRESSIDA	Non ne avrà bisogno, se avrà il suo.
PANDARO	Né le sue qualità.
CRESSIDA	Non importa.
PANDARO	Né la sua bellezza.
CRESSIDA	Non gli s’addirebbe; la sua è migliore.
PANDARO	Non avete giudizio, nipote. Elena stessa giurò l’altro giorno che Troilo, per un incarnato bruno, ché tale è, devo confessarlo—e nemmeno bruno—
CRESSIDA	No, ma bruno.
PANDARO	In fede, a dir la verità, bruno e non bruno.
CRESSIDA	A dir la verità, vero e non vero.
PANDARO	Lodò il suo incarnato sopra quello di Paride.
CRESSIDA	Ma via, Paride ha colore abbastanza.
PANDARO	E l’ha.
CRESSIDA	Allora Troilo dovrebbe averne troppo. Se lei lo lodò sopra l’altro, il suo incarnato è più acceso del suo; avendo l’uno colore abbastanza, e l’altro più acceso, è lode troppo fiammeggiante per un buon incarnato. Tanto mi sarebbe piaciuto che l’aurea lingua d’Elena avesse lodato Troilo per un naso di rame.
PANDARO	Vi giuro, credo che Elena lo ami più di Paride.
CRESSIDA	Allora è davvero una Greca allegra.
PANDARO	Anzi, ne son certo. L’altro giorno gli venne accanto nella finestra arcuata, e sapete che non ha più di tre o quattro peli sul mento—
CRESSIDA	Davvero, l’aritmetica d’un garzone d’osteria può ben presto portarne a totale i particolari. no
PANDARO	Ma è molto giovane—e tuttavia, a tre libbre di differenza, solleverà quanto suo fratello Ettore.
CRESSIDA	È un uomo così giovane e un ladro così vecchio?
PANDARO	Ma per provarvi che Elena l’ama: venne e mi pose la sua bianca mano sul mento fesso di lui.
CRESSIDA	Giunone abbia pietà! Come s’è fesso?
PANDARO	Ma via, sapete, ha una fossetta. Credo che il sorriso gli s’addica meglio che a qualunque uomo in tutta la Frigia.
CRESSIDA	Oh, sorride valorosamente.
PANDARO	Non è vero?
CRESSIDA	Oh sì, come fosse una nube d’autunno.
PANDARO	Suvvia, dunque. Ma per provarvi che Elena ama Troilo—
CRESSIDA	Troilo sosterrà la prova, se così la proverete.
PANDARO	Troilo? Ma egli la stima non più di quanto io stimi un uovo guasto.
CRESSIDA	Se amate un uovo guasto bene quanto amate una testa vuota, mangereste i pulcini nel guscio.
PANDARO	Non posso far altro che ridere al pensiero di come gli fece il solletico sul mento. Davvero, ha una mano meravigliosamente bianca, devo pur confessarlo—
CRESSIDA	Senza il cavalletto della tortura.
PANDARO	E si prende la briga di scovargli un pelo bianco sul mento.
CRESSIDA	Ahimè, povero mento! Più d’una verruca è più ricca.
PANDARO	Ma ci fu un tal ridere! La regina Ecuba rise tanto che le traboccarono gli occhi.
CRESSIDA	Con macine da mulino.
PANDARO	E Cassandra rise.
CRESSIDA	Ma sotto il paiolo dei suoi occhi c’era un fuoco più temperato—o traboccarono anche i suoi occhi?
PINDARUS	Ed Ettore rise.
CRESSIDA	Di che si rideva tanto?
PANDARO	Perbacco, del pelo bianco che Elena scovò sul mento di Troilo.
CRESSIDA	Se fosse stato un pelo verde, avrei riso anch’io.
PANDARO	Non ridevano tanto del pelo quanto della sua bella risposta.
CRESSIDA	Qual fu la sua risposta?
PANDARO	Disse lei: ‘Non hai che cinquantadue peli sul mento, e uno di essi è bianco.’
CRESSIDA	Questa è la sua domanda.
PINDARUS	È vero, non ci sia dubbio su questo. ‘Cinquantadue peli,’ disse lui, ‘e uno bianco? Quel pelo bianco è mio padre, e tutti gli altri sono i suoi figli.’ ‘Giove!’ disse lei, ‘quale di questi peli è Paride mio marito?’ ‘Quello biforcuto,’ disse lui, ‘strappalo e daglielo.’ Ma ci fu un tal ridere, e Elena arrossì tanto e Paride tanto si stizzì e tutti gli altri tanto risero, che passò ogni misura.
CRESSIDA	Così passi ora, ché è passato un bel pezzo di tempo.
PANDARO	Bene, cugina, ieri vi dissi una cosa. Pensateci.
CRESSIDA	Ci penso.
PANDARO	Lo giurerei, è vero. Piangerà per voi come un uomo nato in aprile.
CRESSIDA	E io germoglierò nelle sue lacrime come un’ortica al venire di maggio. Si suona la ritirata
PANDARO	Udite, tornano dal campo. Vogliamo stare qui in alto e vederli passare verso Ilio? Buona nipote, sì, dolce nipote Cressida.
CRESSIDA	Come vi piace.
PANDARO	Qui, qui, ecco un posto eccellente, qui potremo vedere splendidamente. Ve li dirò tutti per nome mentre passano, ma osservate Troilo più di tutti.
(didascalia)	Entra Enea passando di sotto
CRESSIDA	Non parlate così forte.
PANDARO	Quello è Enea. Non è un uomo prode? È uno dei fiori di Troia, ve lo posso dire. Ma osservate Troilo; lo vedrete or ora.
(didascalia)	Entra Antenore passando di sotto
CRESSIDA	Chi è quello?
PANDARO	Quello è Antenore. Ha un ingegno acuto, ve lo posso dire, ed è un uomo abbastanza valente. È uno dei più saldi giudizi che vi siano in Troia, chiunque altro ci sia, e un uomo di bella persona. Quando viene Troilo? Vi mostrerò Troilo or ora. Se mi vede, lo vedrete farmi un cenno del capo.
CRESSIDA	Vi farà il cenno dello sciocco?
PANDARO	Vedrete.
CRESSIDA	Se lo fa, il ricco avrà di più.
(didascalia)	Entra Ettore passando di sotto
PANDARO	Quello è Ettore, quello, quello, guardate, quello. Ecco un uomo!—Va’ pure, Ettore!—Ecco un uomo prode, nipote. O prode Ettore! Guardate come guarda. Ecco un volto. Non è un uomo prode?
CRESSIDA	Oh, un uomo prode.
PANDARO	Non è vero? Fa bene al cuore d’un uomo. Guardate che tagli ha sull’elmo. Guardate là, vedete? Guardate lì. Non c’è da scherzare. Là si mena, e se lo scrolli chi vuole, come dicono. Là ci sono tagli.
CRESSIDA	Sono fatti con le spade?
(didascalia)	Entra Paride passando di sotto
PANDARO	Spade, qualsiasi cosa, non gliene importa. Se gli venisse incontro il diavolo, per lui è tutt’uno. Per la palpebra di Dio, fa bene al cuore. Là viene Paride, là viene Paride. Guardate là, nipote. Non è anche lui un uomo prode? Non è vero? Ecco, questo è bello ora. Chi ha detto che oggi è tornato a casa ferito? Non è ferito. Ecco, questo farà bene al cuore d’Elena ora, hal Vorrei poter vedere Troilo ora. Vedrete Troilo or ora.
(didascalia)	Entra Eleno passando di sotto
CRESSIDA	Chi è quello?
PANDARO	Quello è Eleno. Mi domando dove sia Troilo. Quello è Eleno. Credo che oggi non sia uscito. Quello è Eleno.
CRESSIDA	Sa combattere Eleno, zio?
PANDARO	Eleno? No—sì, combatterà passabilmente bene. Mi domando dove sia Troilo.
(didascalia)	Un clamore
PANDARO	Udite, non sentite il popolo gridare ‘Troilo’? Eleno è un sacerdote.
(didascalia)	Entra Troilo passando di sotto
CRESSIDA	Che tipo furtivo viene là?
PANDARO	Dove? Là? Quello è Deifobo.—È Troilo! Ecco un uomo, nipote, eh? Prode Troilo, il principe della cavalleria!
CRESSIDA	Tacete, per vergogna, tacete.
PANDARO	Osservatelo, notatelo. O prode Troilo! Guardatelo bene, nipote. Guardate come la sua spada è insanguinata e l’elmo più tagliuzzato di quello d’Ettore, e come guarda e come cammina. O gioventù ammirabile! Non ha ancora visto i ventitré anni.—Va’ pure, Troilo, va’ pure!—S’io avessi una sorella che fosse una Grazia, o una figlia che fosse una dea, egli avrebbe la scelta. O uomo ammirabile! Paride? Paride è fango accanto a lui, e garantisco che Elena, per fare il cambio, darebbe un occhio in aggiunta.
(didascalia)	Entrano soldati comuni passando di sotto
CRESSIDA	Ne vengono altri.
PANDARO	Asini, sciocchi, zucconi. Pula e crusca, pula e crusca. Minestra dopo la carne. Potrei vivere e morire negli occhi di Troilo. Non guardate più, non guardate più, le aquile sono passate. Corvi e cornacchie, corvi e cornacchie. Preferirei essere un uomo come Troilo che Agamennone e tutta la Grecia.
CRESSIDA	Fra i Greci c’è Achille, uomo migliore di Troilo.
PANDARO	Achille? Un carrettiere, un facchino, un vero cammello.
CRESSIDA	Bene, bene.
PANDARO	Bene, bene? Ma via, avete un po’ di discernimento? Avete occhi? Sapete che cosa sia un uomo? Non sono la nascita, la bellezza, la buona forma, l’eloquio, la virilità, il sapere, la gentilezza, la virtù, la giovinezza, la liberalità e così via, la spezia e il sale che condiscono un uomo?
CRESSIDA	Sì, un uomo tritato—e poi da cuocersi in forno senza datteri nel pasticcio, ché allora la data dell’uomo è scaduta.
PANDARO	Siete proprio una tal donna! Non si sa in che guardia stiate.
CRESSIDA	Sulla schiena per difendere il ventre, sull’ingegno per difendere le mie astuzie, sulla segretezza per difendere la mia onestà, sulla maschera per difendere la mia bellezza, e su voi per difendere tutte queste cose—e in tutte queste guardie sto con mille vigilanze.
PANDARO	Ditene una delle vostre vigilanze.
CRESSIDA	‘No, di questo mi guarderò da voi’—e anche questa è una delle principali. Se non posso parare ciò che non vorrei fosse colpito, posso guardarmi da voi perché non raccontiate come ho preso il colpo—a meno che non gonfi tanto da non potersi nascondere, e allora non c’è più vigilanza che valga.
PANDARO	Siete proprio una tale!
(didascalia)	Entra un Paggio
PAGGIO	Signore, il mio padrone vuole parlarvi all’istante.
PANDARO	Dove?
PAGGIO	In casa vostra.
PANDARO	Bravo ragazzo, digli che vengo.
(didascalia)	Esce il Paggio
PANDARO	Temo che sia ferito. State bene, buona nipote.
CRESSIDA	Addio, zio.
PANDARO	Sarò con voi, nipote, fra poco.
CRESSIDA	Per portare, zio?
PANDARO	Sì, un pegno da Troilo.
CRESSIDA	Per lo stesso pegno, voi siete un mezzano.
(didascalia)	Escono Pandaro e Alessandro
CRESSIDA	Parole, voti, doni, lacrime, e il pieno sacrificio d’amore egli offre nell’impresa d’un altro; ma in Troilo vedo mille volte più di quanto nello specchio della lode di Pandaro possa apparire. Pur mi trattengo. Le donne sono angeli, finché corteggiate; le cose vinte son finite. L’anima della gioia sta nel farla. Nulla sa quella donna amata che non sappia questo: gli uomini prezzano la cosa non ottenuta più di quel che vale. Non ci fu mai donna che conoscesse l’amore ottenuto dolce come quando il desiderio supplicava. Perciò questa massima dall’amore io traggo e insegno: chi ha ottenuto comanda; chi non ha ottenuto, supplica. Dunque, sebbene il contento del mio cuore porti fermo amore, nulla di ciò apparirà dai miei occhi.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sennet. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulysses, Diomedes, and Menelaus, with others
AGAMEMNON	Princes, what grief hath 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, Infects the sound pine and diverts his grain Tortive and errant from his course of growth. Nor, princes, is it matter new to us That we come short of our suppose so far That after seven years’ siege yet Troy walls stand, Sith every action that hath gone before, Whereof we have record, trial did draw Bias and thwart, not answering the aim And that unbodied figure of the thought That gave’t surmised shape. Why then, you princes, Do you with cheeks abashed behold our works, And think them shames, which are indeed naught else But the protractive trials of great Jove To find persistive constancy in men? The fineness of which mettle is not found In fortune’s love—for then the bold and coward, The wise and fool, the artist and unread, The hard and soft, seem all affined and kin. But in the wind and tempest of her frown Distinction with a loud and powerful fan, Puffing at all, winnows the light away, And what hath mass or matter by itself Lies rich in virtue and unminglèd.
NESTOR	With due observance of thy godly seat, Great Agamemnon, 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 enrage The gentle Thetis, and anon behold The strong-ribbed barque through liquid mountains cut, Bounding between the two moist elements Like Perseus’ horse. Where’s then the saucy boat Whose weak untimbered sides but even now Co-rivalled 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 breese Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks And flies flee under shade, why then the thing of courage, As roused with rage, with rage doth sympathize, And with an accent tuned in selfsame key Retorts to chiding fortune.
ULYSSES	Agamemnon, Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit In whom the tempers and the minds of all Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks. Besides th’applause and approbation The which, (to Agamemnon) most mighty for thy place and sway, And thou, (to Nestor) most reverend for thy stretched-out life, I give to both your speeches—which were such As, Agamemnon, every 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 the heavens ride, knit all Greeks’ ears To his experienced tongue—yet let it please both, Thou (to Agamemnon) great, and (to Nestor) wise, to hear Ulysses speak.
AGAMEMNON	Speak, Prince of Ithaca, and be’t of less expect That matter needless, of importless burden, Divide thy lips, than we are confident When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.
ULYSSES	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 hath 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 vizarded, Th’unworthiest shows as fairly in the masque
(didascalia)	.
ULYSSES	The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre Observe degree, priority, and place, Infixture, course, proportion, season, form, Office and custom, in all line of order. And therefore is the glorious planet Sol In noble eminence enthroned and sphered Amidst the other, whose med‘cinable eye Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil And posts like the commandment of a king, Sans 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 deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture. O when degree is shaked, Which is the ladder to all high designs, The enterprise is sick. How could communities, Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities, Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, The primogenity and due of birth, Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, But by degree stand in authentic place? Take but degree away, untune that string, And hark what discord follows. Each thing meets no In mere oppugnancy. 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, an universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Must make perforce an 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 in a purpose It hath to climb. The general’s 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 lives, not in her strength.
NESTOR	Most wisely hath Ulysses here discovered The fever whereof all our power is sick.
AGAMEMNON	The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, What is the remedy?
ULYSSES	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 livelong day Breaks scurrile 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-wrested seeming He acts thy greatness in. And when he speaks ’Tis like a chime a-mending, with terms unsquared Which from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropped Would seem hyperboles. 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 Nestor, hem and stroke thy beard, As he being dressed to some oration.’ That’s done as near as the extremest ends Of parallels, as like as Vulcan and his wife. Yet god Achilles still cries, ‘Excellent! ‘Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus, 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 the rivet. And at this sport Sir Valour dies, cries, ‘O 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.
NESTOR	And in the imitation of these twain Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns With an imperial voice, many are infect. Ajax is grown self-willed and bears his head In such a rein, in full as proud a place As broad Achilles, and keeps his tent like him, Makes factious feasts, rails on our state of war Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites, 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.
ULYSSES	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 ‘bed-work’, ‘mapp’ry’, ‘closet war’. So that the ram that batters down the wall, For the great swinge and rudeness of his poise They place before his hand that made the engine, Or those that with the finesse of their souls By reason guide his execution.
NESTOR	Let this be granted, and Achilles’ horse Makes many Thetis’ sons.
(didascalia)	Tucket
AGAMEMNON	What trumpet? Look, Menelaus.
MENELAUS	From Troy.
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas and a trumpeter
AGAMEMNON	What would you fore our tent?
AENEAS	Is this great Agamemnon’s tent I pray you?
AGAMEMNON	Even this.
AENEAS	May one that is a herald and a prince Do a fair message to his kingly ears?
AGAMEMNON	With surety stronger than Achilles’ arm, Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon heart and general.
AENEAS	Fair leave and large security. How may A stranger to those most imperial looks Know them from eyes of other mortals?
AGAMEMNON	How?
AENEAS	Ay, I ask that I might waken reverence And on 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?
AGAMEMNON	(to the Greeks) This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy Are ceremonious courtiers.
AENEAS	Courtiers as 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 great Jove’s acorn Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Aeneas, Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips. The worthiness of praise distains his worth, If that the praised himself bring the praise forth. But what, repining, the enemy commends, That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends.
AGAMEMNON	Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas?
AENEAS	Ay, Greek, that is my name.
AGAMEMNON	What’s your affair, I pray you?
AENEAS	Sir, pardon, ’tis for Agamemnon’s ears.
AGAMEMNON	He hears naught privately that comes from Troy.
AENEAS	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.
AGAMEMNON	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.
AENEAS	Trumpet, blow loud. Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents, And every Greek of mettle let him know What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. The 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 resty grown. He bade me take a trumpet And to this purpose speak: ‘Kings, princes, lords, If there be one among the fair’st 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 avow 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 tomorrow with his trumpet call Midway between your tents and walls 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 and not worth The splinter of a lance.’ Even so much.
AGAMEMNON	This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas. If none of them have soul in such a kind, We left 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’ll be he.
NESTOR	(to Aeneas) Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man When Hector’s grandsire sucked. He is old now, But if there be not in our Grecian mould 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 vambrace 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.
AENEAS	Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth.
ULYSSES	Amen.
AGAMEMNON	Fair Lord Aeneas, let me touch your hand. To our pavilion shall I lead you first. 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Ulysses and Nestor
ULYSSES	Nestor!
NESTOR	What says Ulysses?
ULYSSES	I have a young Conception in my brain; be you my time To bring it to some shape.
NESTOR	What is’t?
ULYSSES	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 overbulk us all.
NESTOR	Well, and how?
ULYSSES	This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, However it is spread in general name, Relates in purpose only to Achilles.
NESTOR	The purpose is perspicuous, even as substance Whose grossness little characters 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—will with great speed of judgement, Ay with celerity, find Hector’s purpose Pointing on him.
ULYSSES	And wake him to the answer, think you?
NESTOR	Yes, ‘tis most meet. Who may you else oppose, That can from Hector bring his honour off, If not Achilles? Though’t be a sportful combat, Yet in this trial much opinion dwells, For here the Trojans taste our dear’st repute With their fin‘st 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 indices, 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 forth us all a man distilled Out of our virtues—who miscarrying, What heart from hence receives the conqu‘ring part To steel a strong opinion to themselves? Which entertained, limbs are e’en his instruments, In no less working than are swords and bows Directive by the limbs.
ULYSSES	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.
NESTOR	I see them not with my old eyes. What are they?
ULYSSES	What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, Were he not proud we all should wear with him. But he already is too insolent, And we were better parch in Afric sun Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foiled, Why then we did our main opinion crush In taint of our best man. No, make a lott’ry, And by device let blockish Ajax draw The sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselves Give him allowance as the worthier man— For that will physic the great Myrmidon, 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.
NESTOR	Now, Ulysses, 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 tarre the mastiffs on, as ’twere their bone.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano Agamennone, Nestore, Ulisse, Diomede, e Menelao, con altri
AGAMENNONE	Principi, qual dolore v’ha posto l’itterizia sulle guance? L’ampio proponimento che la speranza fa in ogni disegno intrapreso qui sulla terra manca della promessa larghezza. Intoppi e disastri crescono nelle vene delle azioni più altamente erette, come i nodi, per il confluire della linfa che s’incontra, infettano il pino sano e ne deviano la fibra, torta ed errante, dal suo corso di crescita. Né, principi, è cosa nuova per noi che tanto restiamo al di sotto della nostra previsione che dopo sette anni d’assedio le mura di Troia ancora stanno, poiché ogni azione che ci ha precorso, di cui abbiamo memoria, la prova la trasse obliqua e di traverso, non rispondendo alla mira né a quell’incorporea figura del pensiero che le diede forma supposta. Perché dunque, o principi, guardate con guance confuse le nostre opere, e le reputate vergogne, che in verità non sono altro che le prove protratte del grande Giove per trovare negli uomini persistente costanza? La finezza di tal tempra non si trova nell’amore della fortuna—ché allora l’ardito e il codardo, il saggio e lo stolto, l’artista e l’illetterato, il duro e il molle, paiono tutti affini e congiunti. Ma nel vento e nella tempesta del suo cipiglio la distinzione, con vaglio sonoro e potente, soffiando su tutto, disperde il leggero, e ciò che ha massa o materia per sé resta ricco di virtù e non commisto.
NESTORE	Col debito rispetto al tuo divino soglio, grande Agamennone, Nestore applicherà le tue ultime parole. Nella riprova della sorte sta la vera prova degli uomini. Quando il mare è liscio, quante barchette da nulla osano navigare sul suo petto paziente, facendosi strada insieme a quelle di più nobile mole! Ma faccia una volta il rissoso Borea infuriare la gentile Tetide, e tosto vedrai la barca dalle forti costole per liquide montagne fendere, balzando fra i due umidi elementi come il cavallo di Perseo. Dov’è allora la barchetta insolente i cui fianchi deboli e senza fasciame appena ora rivaleggiavano con la grandezza? O fuggita in porto, o fatta crostino per Nettuno. Proprio così si dividono l’apparenza del valore e il valore vero nelle tempeste della fortuna. Ché nel suo raggio e splendore l’armento è più molestato dal tafano che dalla tigre; ma quando il vento che spacca rende flessibili le ginocchia delle querce nodose e le mosche fuggono all’ombra, allora la creatura di coraggio, destata dalla furia, con la furia s’accorda, e con accento intonato nella medesima chiave ribatte alla fortuna che la rimbrotta.
ULISSE	Agamennone, tu, gran comandante, nervo e osso della Grecia, cuore delle nostre schiere, anima e solo spirito in cui i temperamenti e le menti di tutti dovrebbero racchiudersi, ascolta ciò che dice Ulisse. Oltre al plauso e all’approvazione che, (ad Agamennone) a te potentissimo per il tuo posto e dominio, e a te, (a Nestore) venerandissimo per la tua protratta vita, io do a entrambi i vostri discorsi—che furono tali che, Agamennone, ogni mano di Grecia dovrebbe levarli alti in bronzo, e tali ancora che, venerabile Nestore, incisi in argento, dovrebbero con vincolo d’aria, forte come l’asse su cui girano i cieli, legare gli orecchi di tutti i Greci alla sua esperta lingua—tuttavia piaccia a entrambi, a te (ad Agamennone) grande, e (a Nestore) saggio, d’udire parlare Ulisse.
AGAMENNONE	Parla, principe d’Itaca, e sia meno atteso che materia inutile, di peso senza importanza, ti divida le labbra, di quanto siamo certi che quando il fetido Tersite apre le sue mascelle di mastice udremo musica, ingegno e oracolo.
ULISSE	Troia, che ancora sta sulle sue fondamenta, sarebbe caduta e la spada del grande Ettore sarebbe stata senza padrone, se non fosse per queste ragioni: il privilegio del comando è stato trascurato. E guardate quante tende greche stanno vuote su questa pianura: tante vuote fazioni. Quando il generale non è come l’alveare al quale tutte le bottinatrici s’indirizzano, qual miele s’attende? Mascherato il grado, il più indegno figura bene quanto gli altri nella mascherata
(didascalia)	.
ULISSE	I cieli stessi, i pianeti, e questo centro osservano grado, priorità e luogo, stabilità, corso, proporzione, stagione, forma, ufficio e costume, in ogni linea d’ordine. E perciò il glorioso pianeta Sole in nobile eminenza è intronizzato e insferato fra gli altri, il cui occhio medicinale corregge i mali aspetti dei pianeti malefici e corre come il comando d’un re, senza ostacolo, ai buoni e ai cattivi. Ma quando i pianeti in mala mescolanza vagano al disordine, quali pesti e quali portenti, quale ammutinamento? Quale furia del mare, quale scuotimento della terra? Sconvolgimento nei venti, spaventi, mutamenti, orrori deviano e schiantano, lacerano e sradicano l’unità e la maritata calma degli stati affatto dalla loro sede. Oh, quando il grado è scosso, esso che è la scala d’ogni alto disegno, l’impresa è malata. Come potrebbero le comunità, i gradi nelle scuole, le confraternite nelle città, il pacifico commercio fra sponde divise, la primogenitura e il diritto di nascita, la prerogativa dell’età, corone, scettri, lauri, stare al loro autentico posto, se non per grado? Togli via solo il grado, scorda quella corda, e senti che discordia segue. Ogni cosa s’incontra no in mera opposizione. Le acque contenute solleverebbero i loro seni più alti delle sponde e farebbero una zuppa di tutto questo solido globo; la forza sarebbe signora della debolezza, e il figlio brutale colpirebbe a morte suo padre. La forza sarebbe diritto—o piuttosto, il diritto e il torto, fra il cui interminabile contrasto risiede la giustizia, perderebbero i loro nomi, e con essi anche la giustizia. Allora ogni cosa si racchiude nella potenza, la potenza nella volontà, la volontà nell’appetito; e l’appetito, lupo universale, così doppiamente secondato da volontà e potenza, farebbe per forza una preda universale, e alla fine divorerebbe se stesso. Grande Agamennone, questo caos, quando il grado è soffocato, segue lo strangolamento. Ed è questa negligenza del grado che d’un passo va indietro nel proposito che ha di salire. Il generale è disdegnato da chi gli sta un grado sotto; questi, dal seguente; quel seguente, da chi gli è di sotto. Così ogni grado, sull’esempio del primo passo che è malato del suo superiore, cresce in febbre invidiosa di pallida ed esangue emulazione. Ed è questa febbre che tiene Troia in piedi, non i suoi nervi. Per finire un racconto di lunghezza: Troia vive nella nostra debolezza, non nella sua forza.
NESTORE	Sapientissimamente Ulisse ha qui scoperto la febbre di cui tutta la nostra potenza è malata.
AGAMENNONE	Trovata la natura del morbo, Ulisse, qual è il rimedio?
ULISSE	Il grande Achille, che l’opinione incorona nervo e braccio primo del nostro esercito, avendo l’orecchio pieno della sua aerea fama si fa schifiltoso del proprio merito, e nella sua tenda sta a beffare i nostri disegni. Con lui Patroclo, su un letto d’ozio tutto il santo giorno, sciorina scurrili facezie e, con gesti ridicoli e sconci che, calunniatore, egli chiama ‘imitazione’, ci rappresenta in mascherata. Talvolta, grande Agamennone, indossa la tua altissima autorità, e come un attore pavoneggiante, il cui ingegno sta nel garretto e crede cosa ricca udire il dialogo e il suono di legno fra il suo passo teso e le tavole del palco, in tale sembianza da compatire e stiracchiata recita la tua grandezza. E quando parla è come un carillon in riparazione, con parole senza squadra che, cadute dalla lingua del ruggente Tifone, parrebbero iperboli. A questa roba muffita il grosso Achille, sdraiato sul letto schiacciato, dal profondo petto ride un sonoro applauso, grida ‘Eccellente! È Agamennone preciso. Ora fammi Nestore, tossicchia e lisciati la barba, come s’egli s’apprestasse a qualche orazione.’ E ciò è fatto tanto simile quanto gli estremi capi di due parallele, tanto somigliante quanto Vulcano e sua moglie. E tuttavia il dio Achille grida ancora: ‘Eccellente! È Nestore in persona. Ora fammelo, Patroclo, mentre s’arma per rispondere a un allarme di notte’. E allora, in verità, i languidi difetti dell’età devono essere la scena dell’allegria: tossire e sputare, e con mano tremante, brancicando la gorgiera, scuotere dentro e fuori il chiodo. E a questo spasso Messer Valore muore, grida: ‘Oh basta, Patroclo! O dammi costole d’acciaio. Mi spaccherò tutto per il piacere della mia milza.’ E in tal modo tutte le nostre capacità, doti, nature, forme, particolari e generali d’esatta grazia, imprese, piani, ordini, precauzioni, incitamenti al campo o discorsi di tregua, successo o perdita, ciò che è o ciò che non è, serve a questi due come materia per far paradossi.
NESTORE	E nell’imitazione di questi due che, come dice Ulisse, l’opinione incorona con voce imperiale, molti sono infetti. Aiace s’è fatto ostinato di sé e porta il capo con tale briglia, in posto altrettanto superbo quanto il largo Achille, e sta in tenda come lui, fa banchetti di fazione, inveisce contro il nostro stato di guerra ardito come un oracolo, e aizza Tersite, uno schiavo la cui bile conia calunnie come una zecca, a paragonarci col fango, a indebolire e screditare la nostra esposizione, per quanto fittamente essa sia cinta di pericolo.
ULISSE	Tassano la nostra prudenza e la chiamano codardia, contano la saggezza come non membro della guerra, prevengono la previdenza e non stimano atto se non quello della mano. Le parti quiete e mentali che escogitano quante mani debbano colpire quando l’opportunità le chiami, e conoscono a misura della loro attenta fatica il peso del nemico, ebbene, ciò non ha la dignità d’un dito. Chiamano questo ‘lavoro da letto’, ‘faccenda di mappe’, ‘guerra da studio’. Così che l’ariete che abbatte il muro, per il grande slancio e la rozzezza del suo peso, lo pongono innanzi alla mano che fece la macchina, o a quelli che con la finezza delle loro anime con la ragione ne guidano l’opera.
NESTORE	Si conceda questo, e il cavallo d’Achille fa molti figli di Tetide.
(didascalia)	Squillo di tromba
AGAMENNONE	Che tromba è questa? Guarda, Menelao.
MENELAO	Da Troia.
(didascalia)	Entrano Enea e un trombettiere
AGAMENNONE	Che volete davanti alla nostra tenda?
ENEA	È questa la tenda del grande Agamennone, di grazia?
AGAMENNONE	Questa appunto.
ENEA	Può uno che è araldo e principe recare un cortese messaggio ai suoi regali orecchi?
AGAMENNONE	Con garanzia più forte del braccio d’Achille, innanzi a tutti i capi greci, che con una sola voce chiamano Agamennone cuore e generale.
ENEA	Cortese permesso e ampia garanzia. Come può uno straniero a quegli sguardi imperialissimi distinguerli dagli occhi d’altri mortali?
AGAMENNONE	Come?
ENEA	Sì, lo chiedo per poter destare la riverenza e tenere pronto sulla guancia un rossore modesto come il mattino quando freddamente guarda il giovine Febo. Quale è quel dio in carica, che guida gli uomini? Quale è l’alto e possente Agamennone?
AGAMENNONE	(ai Greci) Questo Troiano ci schernisce, o gli uomini di Troia sono cortigiani cerimoniosi.
ENEA	Cortigiani liberali, affabili, disarmati, come angeli inchinati—tale è la loro fama in pace. Ma quando vogliono apparire soldati hanno fiele, buone braccia, salde giunture, spade fedeli—e la ghianda del grande Giove non è tanto piena di cuore. Ma taci, Enea, taci, Troiano; poni il dito sulle labbra. Il pregio della lode macchia il proprio pregio, se il lodato stesso la lode produce. Ma ciò che, a malincuore, il nemico loda, quel soffio la fama diffonde; quella lode, sola pura, trascende.
AGAMENNONE	Signore, voi di Troia, vi chiamate Enea?
ENEA	Sì, Greco, questo è il mio nome.
AGAMENNONE	Qual è il vostro affare, di grazia?
ENEA	Signore, perdonate, è per gli orecchi d’Agamennone.
AGAMENNONE	Egli nulla ascolta in privato che venga da Troia.
ENEA	Né io vengo da Troia per sussurrargli. Porto una tromba per destargli l’orecchio, per tendere i suoi sensi all’attenzione, e poi parlare.
AGAMENNONE	Parla franco come il vento. Non è l’ora del sonno d’Agamennone. Perché tu sappia, Troiano, ch’egli è sveglio, te lo dice egli stesso.
ENEA	Tromba, suona forte. Manda la tua voce di bronzo per tutte queste tende oziose, e ogni Greco di tempra sappia che ciò che Troia lealmente intende sarà detto ad alta voce. La tromba suona Abbiamo, grande Agamennone, qui in Troia un principe chiamato Ettore—Priamo è suo padre— il quale in questa fiacca e lungamente durata tregua s’è fatto restio. M’ordinò di prendere una tromba e di parlare a questo fine: ‘Re, principi, signori, se ve n’è uno fra i più nobili di Grecia che tenga il suo onore più alto del suo agio, che cerchi la sua lode più di quanto tema il suo periglio, che conosca il suo valore e non conosca la sua paura, che ami la sua donna più di quanto in confessione, con voti fuggitivi alle labbra di lei, dica d’amarla, e osi affermare la sua bellezza e il suo pregio in armi altre che le sue—a lui questa sfida. Ettore, alla vista di Troiani e di Greci, la sosterrà, o farà il suo meglio per sostenerla: egli ha una dama più saggia, più bella, più fedele di quante mai Greco cinse fra le braccia, e domani con la sua tromba chiamerà, a mezza via fra le vostre tende e le mura di Troia, per destare un Greco che sia fedele in amore. Se alcuno viene, Ettore l’onorerà. Se nessuno, dirà in Troia al suo ritorno che le dame greche sono arse dal sole e non valgono la scheggia d’una lancia.’ Questo è tutto.
AGAMENNONE	Questo sarà detto ai nostri innamorati, signor Enea. Se nessuno di loro ha anima di tal fatta, li abbiamo lasciati tutti a casa. Ma noi siamo soldati, e si dimostri mero rinnegato quel soldato che non intende, non ha, o non è in amore. Se dunque uno lo è, o l’ha, o intende esserlo, quello incontri Ettore. Se nessun altro, sarò io.
NESTORE	(a Enea) Parlagli di Nestore, uno che era uomo quando l’avo d’Ettore succhiava il latte. Ora è vecchio, ma se non v’è nella nostra stampa greca un uomo nobile che abbia una scintilla di fuoco per rispondere in nome del suo amore, digli da parte mia che nasconderò la mia barba d’argento in una visiera d’oro e metterò nel bracciale questo muscolo disseccato, e incontrandolo gli dirò che la mia dama era più bella di sua nonna, e casta quanto altre al mondo. La sua gioventù è in piena, io proverò questa verità con le mie tre gocce di sangue.
ENEA	Ora il cielo vieti tale scarsità di gioventù.
ULISSE	Amen.
AGAMENNONE	Nobile signor Enea, lasciate ch’io tocchi la vostra mano. Al nostro padiglione vi condurrò per primo. Achille avrà notizia di questo intento; e così ogni signore di Grecia, di tenda in tenda. Voi stesso banchetterete con noi prima d’andare, e troverete l’accoglienza d’un nobile nemico.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Ulisse e Nestore
ULISSE	Nestore!
NESTORE	Che dice Ulisse?
ULISSE	Ho un giovane concepimento nel cervello; siate voi il mio tempo per portarlo a qualche forma.
NESTORE	Che cos’è?
ULISSE	Ecco: cunei ottusi spaccano nodi duri. La superbia andata a seme che a tale maturità s’è gonfiata nel rigoglioso Achille o va ora recisa, o, sgranandosi, genererà un semenzaio di simil male che tutti ci soverchierà.
NESTORE	Bene, e come?
ULISSE	Questa sfida che il prode Ettore manda, per quanto sia diffusa a nome generale, nell’intento riguarda solo Achille.
NESTORE	L’intento è perspicuo, come una sostanza la cui mole piccoli caratteri riassumono. E, nella divulgazione, non dubitate che Achille, fosse pure il suo cervello sterile come le rive di Libia—sebbene, Apollo lo sa, sia asciutto abbastanza—con gran prontezza di giudizio, sì, con celerità, troverà che l’intento d’Ettore punta su di lui.
ULISSE	E lo desterà a rispondere, credete?
NESTORE	Sì, è convenientissimo. Chi altri potreste opporgli che possa da Ettore portar via il proprio onore, se non Achille? Sebbene sia un combattimento per gioco, in questa prova pur dimora molta reputazione, ché qui i Troiani assaggiano la nostra più cara fama col loro palato più fine. E credimi, Ulisse, la nostra stima sarà stranamente bilanciata in questa temeraria azione: ché il successo, sebbene particolare, darà un saggio di bene o di male al generale— e in tali indici, sebbene piccoli punti rispetto ai volumi che seguono, si vede la figura in fasce della gigantesca mole delle cose a venire in grande. Si suppone che chi incontra Ettore esca dalla nostra scelta, e la scelta, essendo atto comune di tutte le nostre anime, fa del merito la sua elezione, e distilla, come fosse, da noi tutti un uomo stillato dalle nostre virtù—il quale, se falla, qual cuore ne trae la parte vincente per temprarsi in sé una forte opinione? La quale accolta, le membra ne sono gli strumenti, operanti non meno di spade e archi diretti dalle membra.
ULISSE	Perdonate il mio dire: perciò conviene che Achille non incontri Ettore. Mostriamo, come mercanti, la nostra merce più scadente e pensiamo che forse si venderà. Se no, lo splendore della migliore ancora da mostrare apparirà migliore. Non consentite che mai Ettore ed Achille s’incontrino, ché in ciò sia il nostro onore sia la nostra vergogna sono seguiti da due strani cani.
NESTORE	Non li vedo coi miei vecchi occhi. Quali sono?
ULISSE	Qualunque gloria il nostro Achille tragga da Ettore, se non fosse superbo la porteremmo tutti con lui. Ma egli è già troppo insolente, e meglio ci sarebbe arrostire al sole d’Africa che nella superbia e nello scherno salato dei suoi occhi, s’egli scampasse onorevolmente a Ettore. Se fosse sconfitto, ebbene, avremmo schiacciato la nostra principale reputazione nell’onta del nostro miglior uomo. No, si faccia una lotteria, e per artificio si faccia sì che lo zotico Aiace tragga la sorte di combattere con Ettore. Fra noi stessi riconosciamogli il vanto d’uomo più degno— ché ciò medicherà il grande Mirmidone, che si cuoce nel sonoro applauso, e gli farà abbassare il cimiero, che si curva più superbo dell’azzurra Iride. Se l’ottuso e scervellato Aiace ne uscirà salvo, lo rivestiremo di lodi; se falla, andremo ancora forti dell’opinione d’avere uomini migliori. Ma colpisca o manchi, la vita del nostro progetto assume questa forma di senso: Aiace impiegato strappa le piume ad Achille.
NESTORE	Ora, Ulisse, comincio a gustare il tuo consiglio, e ne darò subito un assaggio ad Agamennone. Andiamo a lui senz’altro. Due botoli si domeranno l’un l’altro; la superbia sola deve aizzare i mastini, come fosse il loro osso.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ajax and Thersites
AJAX	Thersites.
THERSITES	Agamemnon—how if he had boils, full, all over, generally?
AJAX	Thersites.
THERSITES	And those boils did run? Say so, did not the General run then? Were not that a botchy core?
AJAX	Dog.
THERSITES	Then there would come some matter from him. I see none now.
AJAX	Thou bitch-wolf’s son, canst thou not hear? Feel then. He strikes Thersites
THERSITES	The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord!
AJAX	Speak then, thou unsifted leaven, speak! I will beat thee into handsomeness.
THERSITES	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.
(didascalia)	Ajax strikes him
THERSITES	Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red murrain o’ thy jade’s tricks.
AJAX	Toad’s stool!
(didascalia)	He strikes Thersites
AJAX	Learn me the proclamation.
THERSITES	Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus?
AJAX	The proclamation.
THERSITES	Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.
AJAX	Do not, porcupine, do not. My fingers itch.
THERSITES	I would thou didst itch from head to foot. An I had the scratching of thee, I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece.
AJAX	I say, the proclamation.
THERSITES	Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpina’s beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him.
AJAX	Mistress Thersites.
THERSITES	Thou shouldst strike him.
AJAX	Cobloaf.
THERSITES	He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.
AJAX	You whoreson cur.
(didascalia)	He strikes Thersites
THERSITES	Do! Do!
AJAX	Thou stool for a witch.
(didascalia)	He strikes Thersites
THERSITES	Ay, do, do! Thou sodden-witted lord, thou hast in thy skull no more brain than I have in mine elbows. An asnico may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant ass, thou art here but to thrash Trojans, and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou.
AJAX	You dog.
THERSITES	You scurvy lord.
AJAX	You cur.
(didascalia)	He strikes Thersites
THERSITES	Mars his idiot! Do, rudeness! Do, camel, do, do!
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles and Patroclus
ACHILLES	Why, how now, Ajax? Wherefore do ye thus? How now, Thersites? What’s the matter, man?
THERSITES	You see him there? Do you?
ACHILLES	Ay. What’s the matter?
THERSITES	Nay, look upon him.
ACHILLES	So I do. What’s the matter?
THERSITES	Nay, but regard him well.
ACHILLES	‘Well’? Why, I do so.
THERSITES	But yet you look not well upon him. For whosomever you take him to be, he is Ajax.
ACHILLES	I know that, fool.
THERSITES	Ay, but ‘that fool’ knows not himself.
AJAX	Therefore I beat thee.
THERSITES	Lo, lo, lo, lo, 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 pia mater is not worth the ninth 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.
ACHILLES	What?
THERSITES	I say, this Ajax—
(didascalia)	Ajax threatens to strike him
ACHILLES	Nay, good Ajax.
THERSITES	Has not so much wit—
(didascalia)	Ajax threatens to strike him
ACHILLES	(to Ajax) Nay, I must hold you.
THERSITES	As will stop the eye of Helen’s needle, for whom he comes to fight.
ACHILLES	Peace, fool.
THERSITES	I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not. He, there, that he, look you there.
AJAX	O thou damned cur I shall—
ACHILLES	(to Ajax) Will you set your wit to a fool’s?
THERSITES	No, I warrant you, for a fool’s will shame it.
PATROCLUS	Good words, Thersites.
ACHILLES	(to Ajax) What’s the quarrel?
AJAX	I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.
THERSITES	I serve thee not.
AJAX	Well, go to, go to.
THERSITES	I serve here voluntary.
ACHILLES	Your last service was sufferance. ‘Twas not voluntary: no man is beaten voluntary. Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress.
THERSITES	E’en so. A great deal of your wit, too, lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch an a knock out either of your brains. A were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel.
ACHILLES	What, with me too, Thersites?
THERSITES	There’s Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke you like draught oxen and make you plough up the war.
ACHILLES	What? What?
THERSITES	Yes, good sooth. To Achilles! To, Ajax, to—
AJAX	I shall cut out your tongue.
THERSITES	’Tis no matter. I shall speak as much wit as thou afterwards.
PATROCLUS	No more words, Thersites, peace.
THERSITES	I will hold my peace when Achilles’ brach bids me, shall I?
ACHILLES	There’s for you, Patroclus.
THERSITES	I will see you hanged like clodpolls ere I come any more to your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
(didascalia)	Exit
PATROCLUS	A good riddance.
ACHILLES	(to Ajax) Marry, 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 knight to arms That hath a stomach, and such a one that dare Maintain—I know not what. ’Tis trash. Farewell.
AJAX	Farewell. Who shall answer him?
ACHILLES	I know not. ‘Tis put to lott’ry. Otherwise,
(didascalia)	He knew his man. Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus
AJAX	O, meaning you? I will go learn more of it.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	2.2 Sennet. Enter King Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Helenus
PRIAM	After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: ‘Deliver Helen, and all damage else— As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed In hot digestion of this cormorant war— Shall be struck off.’ Hector, what say you to’t?
HECTOR	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, Surety secure; but modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th’ bottom of the worst. Let Helen go. Since the first sword was drawn about this question, Every tithe-soul, ’mongst 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 merit’s in that reason which denies The yielding of her up?
TROILUS	Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king So great as our dread father in a scale Of common ounces? Will you with counters sum The past-proportion of his infinite, And buckle in a waist most fathomless With spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame!
HELENUS	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 reason Because your speech hath none that tells him so?
TROILUS	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 Helenus beholds A Grecian and his sword, if he do set The very wings of reason to his heels And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star disorbed? Nay, if we talk of reason, Let’s shut our gates and sleep. Manhood and honour Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this crammed reason. Reason and respect Make livers pale and lustihood deject.
HECTOR	Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding.
TROILUS	What’s aught but as ’tis valued?
HECTOR	But value dwells not in particular will. It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein ‘tis precious of itself As in the prizer. ’Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god; And the will dotes that is inclinable To what infectiously itself affects Without some image of th’affected merit.
TROILUS	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 ‘twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgement. 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 spoiled them; nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sewer Because we now are full. It was thought meet Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks. Your breath of full consent bellied his sails; The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce And did him service. He touched the ports desired, And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness Wrinkles Apollo’s and makes stale the morning. Why keep we her? The Grecians keep 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 avouch ’twas wisdom Paris went— As you must needs, for you all cried, ‘Go, go!’; If you’ll confess he brought home noble prize— As you must needs, for you all clapped your hands And cried, ‘Inestimable!’—why do you now The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, And do a deed that never fortune did: Beggar the estimation which you prized Richer than sea and land? O theft most base, That we have stol’n what we do fear to keep! But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol’n, That in their country did them that disgrace We fear to warrant in our native place.
(didascalia)	CASSANDRA within
TROILUS	Cry, Trojans, cry!
PRIAM	What noise? What shriek is this?
TROILUS	’Tis our mad sister. I do know her voice.
(didascalia)	CASSANDRA within Cry, Trojans!
HECTOR	It is Cassandra.
(didascalia)	Enter Cassandra raving, with her hair about her ears
CASSANDRA	Cry, Trojans, cry! Lend me ten thousand eyes And I will fill them with prophetic tears.
HECTOR	Peace, sister, peace.
CASSANDRA	Virgins and boys, mid-age, and wrinkled old, Soft infancy that nothing canst but cry, Add to my clamours. Let us pay betimes A moiety of that mass of moan to come. Cry, Trojans, cry! Practise your eyes with tears. Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilium stand. Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Trojans, cry! Ah Helen, and ah woe! Cry, cry ‘Troy burns!’—or else let Helen go. Exit
HECTOR	Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains 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 in a bad cause, Can qualify the same?
TROILUS	Why, brother Hector, We may not think the justness of each act Such and no other than the event doth form it, Nor once deject the courage of our minds Because Cassandra’s mad. Her brainsick 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 Jove forbid there should be done amongst us Such things as might offend the weakest spleen To fight for and maintain.
PARIS	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 propugnation is in one man’s valour 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.
PRIAM	Paris, you speak Like one besotted on your sweet delights. You have the honey still, but these the gall. So to be valiant is no praise at all.
PARIS	Sir, I propose not merely to myself The pleasures 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, Disgrace to 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 once 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.
HECTOR	Paris and Troilus, you have both said well, But on the cause and question now in hand Have glossed 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 dues 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 ne’ertheless, My sprightly brethren, I propend to you In resolution to keep Helen still; For ’tis a cause that hath no mean dependence Upon our joint and several dignities.
TROILUS	Why, there you touched the life of our design. Were it not glory that we more affected Than the performance of our heaving spleens, I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, She is a theme of honour 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.
HECTOR	I am yours, You valiant offspring of great Priamus. I have a roisting challenge sent amongst The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks Will shriek amazement to their drowsy spirits. I was advertised their great general slept Whilst emulation in the army crept; This I presume will wake him.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Aiace e Tersite
AIACE	Tersite.
TERSITE	Agamennone—e se avesse i foruncoli, pieni, tutto addosso, in generale?
AIACE	Tersite.
TERSITE	E se quei foruncoli colassero? Dimmi, non colerebbe allora il Generale? Non sarebbe quello un torsolo purulento?
AIACE	Cane.
TERSITE	Allora ne uscirebbe qualche materia. Ora non ne vedo nessuna.
AIACE	Figlio di lupa cagna, non senti? Senti allora questo. Percuote Tersite
TERSITE	La peste di Grecia su di te, signore bastardo dal cervello di manzo!
AIACE	Parla dunque, lievito non setacciato, parla! Ti bastonerò fino a farti bello.
TERSITE	Più presto io t’insolentirò fino a farti savio e santo. Ma credo che il tuo cavallo mandi a memoria un’orazione prima che tu impari una preghiera senza libro.
(didascalia)	Aiace lo percuote
TERSITE	Sai picchiare, eh? Una rossa moria sui tuoi trucchi da ronzino.
AIACE	Fungo da rospo!
(didascalia)	Percuote Tersite
AIACE	Impara per me il proclama.
TERSITE	Credi ch’io non abbia sensibilità, che mi percuoti così?
AIACE	Il proclama.
TERSITE	Tu sei proclamato sciocco, credo.
AIACE	Non farlo, porcospino, non farlo. Mi prudono le dita.
TERSITE	Vorrei che ti prudesse da capo a piedi. E s’io avessi il compito di grattarti, farei di te la più ripugnante crosta di Grecia.
AIACE	Dico, il proclama.
TERSITE	Tu brontoli e inveisci ogni ora contro Achille, e sei tanto pieno d’invidia per la sua grandezza quanto Cerbero per la bellezza di Proserpina, sì, tanto che gli latri dietro.
AIACE	Madama Tersite.
TERSITE	Dovresti percuotere lui.
AIACE	Pagnottone.
TERSITE	Ti pesterebbe in schegge col pugno, come un marinaio rompe un biscotto.
AIACE	Cagnaccio figlio di puttana.
(didascalia)	Percuote Tersite
TERSITE	Fallo! Fallo!
AIACE	Sgabello da strega.
(didascalia)	Percuote Tersite
TERSITE	Sì, fallo, fallo! Signore dal cervello lesso, non hai nel cranio più cervello di quanto io n’abbia nei gomiti. Un asinello può farti da maestro. Asino valoroso e scabbioso, tu stai qui solo per trebbiare Troiani, e sei comprato e venduto fra la gente d’un po’ d’ingegno come uno schiavo barbaro. Se prendi l’abitudine di picchiarmi, comincerò dal tuo calcagno e dirò pollice per pollice quel che sei, cosa senza viscere, tu.
AIACE	Cane.
TERSITE	Signore scabbioso.
AIACE	Cagnaccio.
(didascalia)	Percuote Tersite
TERSITE	Idiota di Marte! Fallo, rozzezza! Fallo, cammello, fallo, fallo!
(didascalia)	Entrano Achille e Patroclo
ACHILLE	Ebbene, che c’è, Aiace? Perché fate così? Che c’è, Tersite? Che cosa succede, uomo?
TERSITE	Lo vedete lì? Sì?
ACHILLE	Sì. Che cosa succede?
TERSITE	No, guardatelo.
ACHILLE	Lo guardo. Che cosa succede?
TERSITE	No, ma osservatelo bene.
ACHILLE	‘Bene’? Ma lo faccio.
TERSITE	Eppure non lo guardate bene. Perché, per chiunque lo prendiate, egli è Aiace.
ACHILLE	Lo so, buffone.
TERSITE	Sì, ma ‘quello sciocco’ non conosce se stesso.
AIACE	Perciò ti picchio.
TERSITE	Ecco, ecco, ecco, ecco, che briciole d’ingegno emette. Le sue scappatoie hanno orecchie lunghe così. Ho ammaccato il suo cervello più di quanto lui m’abbia pestato le ossa. Compro nove passeri per un soldo, e la sua pia madre non vale la nona parte d’un passero. Questo signore, Achille—Aiace, che porta l’ingegno nella pancia e le trippe nella testa—vi dirò quel che dico di lui.
ACHILLE	Che cosa?
TERSITE	Dico, questo Aiace—
(didascalia)	Aiace minaccia di percuoterlo
ACHILLE	No, buon Aiace.
TERSITE	Non ha tanto ingegno—
(didascalia)	Aiace minaccia di percuoterlo
ACHILLE	(a Aiace) No, devo trattenervi.
TERSITE	quanto ne basti a tappare la cruna dell’ago d’Elena, per la quale viene a combattere.
ACHILLE	Taci, buffone.
TERSITE	Io vorrei pace e quiete, ma lo sciocco non vuole. Lui, là, quel lui, guardate là.
AIACE	O maledetto cagnaccio, io ti—
ACHILLE	(a Aiace) Volete misurare il vostro ingegno con quello d’un buffone?
TERSITE	No, ve lo garantisco, perché quello d’un buffone gli farebbe vergogna.
PATROCLO	Buone parole, Tersite.
ACHILLE	(a Aiace) Qual è la contesa?
AIACE	Ordinai a quel vile allocco d’andare a imparare per me il tenore del proclama, ed egli m’insolentisce.
TERSITE	Non ti servo.
AIACE	Bene, via, via.
TERSITE	Io servo qui volontario.
ACHILLE	Il vostro ultimo servizio fu patimento. Non fu volontario: nessuno è picchiato volontariamente. Aiace era qui il volontario, e voi come sotto arruolamento forzato.
TERSITE	Proprio così. Anche gran parte del vostro ingegno sta nei vostri nervi, o altrimenti ci sono bugiardi. Ettore farà una gran presa se caverà il cervello a uno di voi due. Farebbe tanto bene a schiacciare una noce muffita senza gheriglio.
ACHILLE	Come, anche con me, Tersite?
TERSITE	Ci sono Ulisse e il vecchio Nestore, il cui ingegno era ammuffito prima che i vostri avi avessero unghie sui piedi, che vi aggiogano come buoi da tiro e vi fanno arare la guerra.
ACHILLE	Che? Che?
TERSITE	Sì, in verità. Arri, Achille! Arri, Aiace, arri—
AIACE	Ti taglierò la lingua.
TERSITE	Non importa. Dopo parlerò con tanto ingegno quanto te.
PATROCLO	Basta parole, Tersite, taci.
TERSITE	Tacerò quando la cagna d’Achille me lo comanda, eh?
ACHILLE	Questa è per voi, Patroclo.
TERSITE	Vi vedrò impiccati come zucconi prima di tornare alle vostre tende. Starò dove c’è ingegno che si muove, e lascerò la fazione degli sciocchi.
(didascalia)	Esce
PATROCLO	Buon liberarsene.
ACHILLE	(a Aiace) Perbacco, questo, signore, è proclamato per tutto il nostro esercito: che Ettore, alla quinta ora del sole, domattina con una tromba fra le nostre tende e Troia chiamerà all’armi qualche cavaliere che abbia fegato, e tale che osi sostenere—non so che cosa. È spazzatura. Addio.
AIACE	Addio. Chi gli risponderà?
ACHILLE	Non lo so. È messo a sorte. Altrimenti,
(didascalia)	Egli conoscerebbe il suo uomo. Escono Achille e Patroclo
AIACE	Oh, intendendo voi? Andrò a saperne di più.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sennet. Enter King Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Helenus
PRIAM	After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: ‘Deliver Helen, and all damage else— As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed In hot digestion of this cormorant war— Shall be struck off.’ Hector, what say you to’t?
HECTOR	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, Surety secure; but modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th’ bottom of the worst. Let Helen go. Since the first sword was drawn about this question, Every tithe-soul, ’mongst 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 merit’s in that reason which denies The yielding of her up?
TROILUS	Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king So great as our dread father in a scale Of common ounces? Will you with counters sum The past-proportion of his infinite, And buckle in a waist most fathomless With spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame!
HELENUS	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 reason Because your speech hath none that tells him so?
TROILUS	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 Helenus beholds A Grecian and his sword, if he do set The very wings of reason to his heels And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star disorbed? Nay, if we talk of reason, Let’s shut our gates and sleep. Manhood and honour Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this crammed reason. Reason and respect Make livers pale and lustihood deject.
HECTOR	Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding.
TROILUS	What’s aught but as ’tis valued?
HECTOR	But value dwells not in particular will. It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein ‘tis precious of itself As in the prizer. ’Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god; And the will dotes that is inclinable To what infectiously itself affects Without some image of th’affected merit.
TROILUS	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 ‘twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgement. 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 spoiled them; nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sewer Because we now are full. It was thought meet Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks. Your breath of full consent bellied his sails; The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce And did him service. He touched the ports desired, And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness Wrinkles Apollo’s and makes stale the morning. Why keep we her? The Grecians keep 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 avouch ’twas wisdom Paris went— As you must needs, for you all cried, ‘Go, go!’; If you’ll confess he brought home noble prize— As you must needs, for you all clapped your hands And cried, ‘Inestimable!’—why do you now The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, And do a deed that never fortune did: Beggar the estimation which you prized Richer than sea and land? O theft most base, That we have stol’n what we do fear to keep! But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol’n, That in their country did them that disgrace We fear to warrant in our native place.
(didascalia)	CASSANDRA within
TROILUS	Cry, Trojans, cry!
PRIAM	What noise? What shriek is this?
TROILUS	’Tis our mad sister. I do know her voice.
(didascalia)	CASSANDRA within Cry, Trojans!
HECTOR	It is Cassandra.
(didascalia)	Enter Cassandra raving, with her hair about her ears
CASSANDRA	Cry, Trojans, cry! Lend me ten thousand eyes And I will fill them with prophetic tears.
HECTOR	Peace, sister, peace.
CASSANDRA	Virgins and boys, mid-age, and wrinkled old, Soft infancy that nothing canst but cry, Add to my clamours. Let us pay betimes A moiety of that mass of moan to come. Cry, Trojans, cry! Practise your eyes with tears. Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilium stand. Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Trojans, cry! Ah Helen, and ah woe! Cry, cry ‘Troy burns!’—or else let Helen go. Exit
HECTOR	Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains 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 in a bad cause, Can qualify the same?
TROILUS	Why, brother Hector, We may not think the justness of each act Such and no other than the event doth form it, Nor once deject the courage of our minds Because Cassandra’s mad. Her brainsick 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 Jove forbid there should be done amongst us Such things as might offend the weakest spleen To fight for and maintain.
PARIS	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 propugnation is in one man’s valour 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.
PRIAM	Paris, you speak Like one besotted on your sweet delights. You have the honey still, but these the gall. So to be valiant is no praise at all.
PARIS	Sir, I propose not merely to myself The pleasures 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, Disgrace to 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 once 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.
HECTOR	Paris and Troilus, you have both said well, But on the cause and question now in hand Have glossed 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 dues 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 ne’ertheless, My sprightly brethren, I propend to you In resolution to keep Helen still; For ’tis a cause that hath no mean dependence Upon our joint and several dignities.
TROILUS	Why, there you touched the life of our design. Were it not glory that we more affected Than the performance of our heaving spleens, I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, She is a theme of honour 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.
HECTOR	I am yours, You valiant offspring of great Priamus. I have a roisting challenge sent amongst The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks Will shriek amazement to their drowsy spirits. I was advertised their great general slept Whilst emulation in the army crept; This I presume will wake him.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano il re Priamo, Ettore, Troilo, Paride, ed Eleno
PRIAMO	Dopo tante ore, tante vite, tanti discorsi spesi, così ancora una volta dice Nestore dai Greci: ‘Consegnate Elena, e ogni altro danno— come l’onore, la perdita di tempo, la fatica, la spesa, le ferite, gli amici, e ogni altra cosa cara consumata nella calda digestione di questa guerra voracissima— sarà cancellato.’ Ettore, che ne dite?
ETTORE	Sebbene nessuno tema i Greci meno di me, per quanto tocca la mia persona, tuttavia, temuto Priamo, non v’è dama di viscere più tenere, più spugnosa nell’assorbire il senso della paura, più pronta a gridare: ‘Chi sa che ne segue?’ di quanto lo sia Ettore. La piaga della pace è la sicurezza, la sicurezza spensierata; ma il modesto dubbio è chiamato il faro dei savi, la sonda che cerca fino al fondo del peggio. Lasciate andare Elena. Da quando la prima spada fu tratta per questa questione, ogni anima di decima, fra molte migliaia di decime, è stata cara quanto Elena—intendo, delle nostre. Se abbiamo perduto tante nostre decime per custodire una cosa non nostra—né che valga per noi, portasse pure il nostro nome, il prezzo d’una decima— qual merito v’è in quella ragione che nega di renderla?
TROILO	Vergogna, vergogna, fratello mio! Pesate il valore e l’onore d’un re grande come il nostro temuto padre su una bilancia d’once comuni? Volete con gettoni sommare l’oltre-misura del suo infinito, e allacciare una cintura insondabile con palmi e pollici così minuti come paure e ragioni? Vergogna, per pudore divino!
ELENO	Non c’è da stupirsi se morde così aspro le ragioni chi n’è così vuoto. Non dovrebbe nostro padre reggere il gran peso dei suoi affari con ragione perché il vostro dire non ne ha alcuna che gliela dica?
TROILO	Voi siete per i sogni e i sonni, fratello sacerdote. Voi foderate di ‘ragione’ i vostri guanti. Ecco le vostre ragioni: sapete che un nemico vi vuol male, sapete che una spada in azione è periglio, e la ragione fugge l’oggetto d’ogni male. Chi si stupisce dunque se, quando Eleno scorge un Greco e la sua spada, egli pone le ali stesse della ragione ai suoi calcagni e fugge come Mercurio rimbrottato da Giove, o come stella sviata d’orbita? Anzi, se parliamo di ragione, chiudiamo le porte e dormiamo. Virilità e onore avrebbero cuori di lepre, se volessero ingrassare i loro pensieri con questa ragione rimpinzata. Ragione e riguardo fanno pallidi i fegati e abbattono il vigore.
ETTORE	Fratello, ella non vale ciò che costa il tenerla.
TROILO	Che è mai una cosa, se non per come la si valuta?
ETTORE	Ma il valore non dimora nella volontà particolare. Esso tiene la sua stima e la sua dignità bene tanto in ciò per cui è prezioso di per sé quanto in chi lo pregia. È pazza idolatria far il culto più grande del dio; e delira la volontà che è inclinata a ciò che essa stessa contagiosamente ama senza qualche immagine del merito amato.
TROILO	Prendo oggi moglie, e la mia scelta è condotta dalla guida della mia volontà; la mia volontà accesa dai miei occhi e orecchi, due piloti esperti fra le pericolose sponde della volontà e del giudizio. Come posso evitare— sebbene la mia volontà disgusti ciò che elesse— la moglie che scelsi? Non può esservi scappatoia per sottrarsi a questo e restar fermo nell’onore. Non rimandiamo le sete al mercante quando le abbiamo guastate; né gli avanzi delle vivande gettiamo in fogna senza riguardo perché ora siamo sazi. Si giudicò conveniente che Paride facesse qualche vendetta sui Greci. Il vostro fiato di pieno consenso gonfiò le sue vele; i mari e i venti, vecchi litiganti, fecero tregua e gli fecero servizio. Toccò i porti desiderati, e in cambio d’una vecchia zia che i Greci tenevano captiva portò una regina greca, la cui gioventù e freschezza raggrinza quelle d’Apollo e fa stantio il mattino. Perché la teniamo? I Greci tengono nostra zia. Val la pena tenerla? Ebbene, ella è una perla il cui prezzo ha varato più di mille navi e mutato re coronati in mercanti. Se affermerete che fu saggezza che Paride andasse— come dovete, ché tutti gridaste: ‘Va’, va’!’; se confesserete che portò a casa nobile preda— come dovete, ché tutti batteste le mani e gridaste: ‘Inestimabile!’—perché ora biasimate il frutto della vostra propria saggezza, e compite un atto che la fortuna mai compì: impoverite la stima che pregiaste più ricca di mare e di terra? Oh furto vilissimo, che abbiamo rubato ciò che temiamo di tenere! Ma ladri indegni d’una cosa così rubata, che nel loro paese fecero a loro quell’onta che noi temiamo di sostenere nel nostro suolo natale.
(didascalia)	CASSANDRA da dentro
TROILO	Piangete, Troiani, piangete!
PRIAMO	Che rumore? Che strido è questo?
TROILO	È la nostra pazza sorella. Riconosco la sua voce.
(didascalia)	CASSANDRA da dentro Piangete, Troiani!
ETTORE	È Cassandra.
(didascalia)	Entra Cassandra delirante, coi capelli sciolti sulle orecchie
CASSANDRA	Piangete, Troiani, piangete! Prestatemi diecimila occhi e li colmerò di profetiche lacrime.
ETTORE	Taci, sorella, taci.
CASSANDRA	Vergini e fanciulli, uomini maturi, e vecchi rugosi, tenera infanzia che nulla sai fuor che piangere, accrescete i miei clamori. Paghiamo in anticipo una parte di quella massa di gemiti a venire. Piangete, Troiani, piangete! Esercitate i vostri occhi alle lacrime. Troia non deve essere, né il bell’Ilio restare in piedi. Il nostro fratello tizzone, Paride, ci brucia tutti. Piangete, Troiani, piangete! Ah Elena, e ah sventura! Grida, grida ‘Troia brucia!’—o lasciate andare Elena. Esce
ETTORE	Ora, giovane Troilo, questi alti accenti di divinazione in nostra sorella non destano qualche tocco di rimorso? O il tuo sangue è così follemente caldo che nessun discorso di ragione, né timore di mal esito in mala causa, può temperarlo?
TROILO	Ebbene, fratello Ettore, non possiamo credere che la giustezza d’ogni atto sia tale e non altra da come l’esito la forma, né abbattere per un istante il coraggio dei nostri animi perché Cassandra è pazza. I suoi rapimenti da cervello malato non possono guastare la bontà d’una contesa che ha impegnato tutti i nostri singoli onori a renderla gloriosa. Quanto a me in privato, non ne son toccato più di tutti i figli di Priamo. E Giove vieti che si facciano fra noi cose tali che offendano il più debole animo a combattere per esse e a sostenerle.
PARIDE	Altrimenti il mondo potrebbe convincere di leggerezza tanto le mie imprese quanto i vostri consigli. Ma chiamo a testimoni gli dèi: il vostro pieno consenso diede ali alla mia inclinazione e troncò tutti i timori che accompagnano un progetto così terribile. Ché, ahimè, che possono queste mie sole braccia? Qual difesa v’è nel valore d’un uomo solo per resistere all’urto e all’inimicizia di quelli che questa contesa desterebbe? Pur protesto: s’io fossi solo a superare le difficoltà e avessi potere tanto ampio quanto ho volontà, Paride non ritratterebbe mai quel che ha fatto né verrebbe meno nell’impresa.
PRIAMO	Paride, tu parli come chi è infatuato dei suoi dolci diletti. Tu hai ancora il miele, ma costoro il fiele. Esser valoroso così non è lode alcuna.
PARIDE	Signore, non mi propongo soltanto i piaceri che tale bellezza porta con sé, ma vorrei che la macchia del suo bel rapimento fosse cancellata dal tenerla onorevolmente. Che tradimento sarebbe verso la regina predata, che disonore ai vostri grandi meriti, e che vergogna per me, renderne ora il possesso per vile costrizione? Può essere che una vena così degenere come questa metta piede una volta nei vostri generosi petti? Non v’è il più umile spirito nella nostra parte senza un cuore per osare o una spada da trarre quando si difende Elena; né alcuno tanto nobile la cui vita sia mal spesa o la morte senza fama dove Elena è il soggetto. Dunque dico: Bene possiamo combattere per lei che ben sappiamo non aver pari nei vasti spazi del mondo.
ETTORE	Paride e Troilo, entrambi avete detto bene, ma sulla causa e la questione ora in mano avete glossato solo superficialmente—non molto diversamente dai giovani, che Aristotele giudicava inetti a udire la filosofia morale. Le ragioni che addite conducono più alla calda passione del sangue intemperato che a formare una libera decisione fra il giusto e l’ingiusto; ché il piacere e la vendetta hanno orecchi più sordi delle vipere alla voce d’ogni vera decisione. La Natura esige che ogni debito sia reso ai suoi proprietari. Ora, qual debito più prossimo in tutta l’umanità di quello della moglie verso il marito? Se questa legge di natura è corrotta dalla passione, e le grandi menti, per parziale indulgenza verso le loro volontà intorpidite, le resistono, v’è in ogni nazione ben ordinata una legge per frenare quegli appetiti furiosi che sono più disobbedienti e ribelli. Se dunque Elena è moglie del re di Sparta, come si sa che è, queste leggi morali di natura e delle genti parlano alto perché sia restituita. Così persistere nel far torto non attenua il torto, ma lo rende molto più grave. L’opinione d’Ettore è questa per via di verità—e tuttavia, miei vivaci fratelli, io propendo per voi nella risoluzione di tenere ancora Elena; ché è una causa che non poco dipende dalle nostre dignità congiunte e singole.
TROILO	Ecco, là hai toccato la vita del nostro disegno. Se non fosse la gloria ciò che più amiamo più che lo sfogo dei nostri animi gonfi, non vorrei che una goccia di sangue troiano fosse più spesa in sua difesa. Ma, degno Ettore, ella è tema d’onore e di rinomanza, sprone a imprese valorose e magnanime, il cui presente coraggio può abbattere i nostri nemici, e la fama nel tempo a venire canonizzarci— ché presumo che il prode Ettore non perderebbe un vantaggio così ricco di gloria promessa, quale sorride sulla fronte di quest’azione, per la rendita del mondo intero.
ETTORE	Io son vostro, valorosa progenie del grande Priamo. Ho mandato una spavalda sfida fra gli ottusi e faziosi nobili dei Greci che striderà stupore ai loro spiriti sonnolenti. Fui avvertito che il loro gran generale dormiva mentre l’emulazione strisciava nell’esercito; questo, presumo, lo sveglierà.
(didascalia)	Fanfara. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Thersites
THERSITES	How now, Thersites? What, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me and I rail at him. O worthy satisfaction! Would it were otherwise: that I could beat him whilst he railed at me. ‘Sfoot, 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. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods; and Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little, little, less than little wit from them that they have—which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant-scarce it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp—or rather, the Neapolitan bone-ache, for that methinks is the curse dependent on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers, and devil Envy say ‘Amen’.—What ho! My lord Achilles!
(didascalia)	Enter
(didascalia)	Patroclus at the door to the tent
(didascalia)	PATROCLUS Who’s there? Thersites? Good Thersites, come in and rail. Exit
THERSITES	If I could ha’ remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst 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 thou art a fair corpse, I’ll be sworn and sworn upon’t she never shrouded any but lazars.
(didascalia)	Enter Patroclus
THERSITES	Amen.—Where’s Achilles?
PATROCLUS	What, art thou devout? Wast thou in prayer?
THERSITES	Ay. The heavens hear me!
PATROCLUS	Amen.
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles
ACHILLES	Who’s there?
PATROCLUS	Thersites, my lord.
ACHILLES	Where? Where? O where?—Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself into my table so many meals? Come: what’s Agamemnon?
THERSITES	Thy commander, Achilles.—Then tell me, Patroclus, what’s Achilles?
PATROCLUS	Thy lord, Thersites. Then tell me, I pray thee, what’s Thersites?
THERSITES	Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?
PATROCLUS	Thou mayst tell, that knowest.
ACHILLES	O tell, tell.
THERSITES	I’ll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles, Achilles is my lord, I am Patroclus’ knower, and Patroclus is a fool.
PATROCLUS	You rascal.
THERSITES	Peace, fool, I have not done.
ACHILLES	(to Patroclus) He is a privileged man.—Proceed, Thersites.
THERSITES	Agamemnon is a fool, Achilles is a fool, Thersites is a fool, and as aforesaid Patroclus is a fool.
ACHILLES	Derive this. Come.
THERSITES	Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool positive.
PATROCLUS	Why am I a fool?
THERSITES	Make that demand to the Creator. It suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes here?
(didascalia)	Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, Ajax, and Calchas
ACHILLES	Patroclus, I’ll speak with nobody.—Come in with me, Thersites. Exit
THERSITES	Here is such patchery, such juggling and such knavery. All the argument is a whore and a cuckold. A good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpigo on the subject, and war and lechery confound all. Exit
AGAMEMNON	(to Patroclus) Where is Achilles?
(didascalia)	Within his tent; but ill-disposed, my lord.
AGAMEMNON	Let it be known to him that we are here. He faced 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.
PATROCLUS	I shall so say to him.
(didascalia)	Exit
ULYSSES	We saw him at the opening of his tent. He is not sick.
(didascalia)	AJAX Yes, lion-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. To Agamemnon A word, my lord.
(didascalia)	Ajax and Agamemnon talk apart
NESTOR	What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
ULYSSES	Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
NESTOR	Who? Thersites?
ULYSSES	He.
NESTOR	Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument.
ULYSSES	No, you see, he is his argument that has his argument: Achilles.
NESTOR	All the better—their fraction is more our wish than their faction. But it was a strong council that a fool could disunite.
ULYSSES	The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie.
(didascalia)	Enter Patroclus
ULYSSES	Here comes Patroclus.
NESTOR	No Achilles with him.
ULYSSES	The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.
PATROCLUS	(to Agamemnon) 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’s sake: no An after-dinner’s breath.
AGAMEMNON	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 beheld, Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss, Yea, and like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish Are 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 judgement. And worthier than himself Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on, Disguise the holy strength of their command, And underwrite in an observing kind His humorous predominance—yea, watch His pettish lunes, 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 overhold 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.
PATROCLUS	I shall, and bring his answer presently.
AGAMEMNON	In second voice we’ll not be satisfied; We come to speak with him.—Ulysses, enter you.
(didascalia)	Exit Ulysses with Patroclus
AJAX	What is he more than another?
AGAMEMNON	No more than what he thinks he is.
AJAX	Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am?
AGAMEMNON	No question.
AJAX	Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is?
AGAMEMNON	No, noble Ajax. You are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.
AJAX	Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what it is.
AGAMEMNON	Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Ulysses
AJAX	I do hate a proud man as I hate the engendering of toads.
NESTOR	(aside) Yet he loves himself. Is’t not strange?
ULYSSES	Achilles will not to the field tomorrow.
AGAMEMNON	What’s his excuse?
ULYSSES	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.
AGAMEMNON	Why, will he not, upon our fair request, Untent his person and share the air with us?
ULYSSES	Things small as nothing, for request’s sake only, He makes important. Possessed he is with greatness, And speaks not to himself but with a pride That quarrels at self-breath. Imagined worth Holds in his blood such swoll’n and hot discourse That ‘twixt his mental and his active parts Kingdomed Achilles in commotion rages And batters ’gainst himself. What should I say? He is so plaguy proud that the death tokens of it Cry ‘No recovery’.
AGAMEMNON	Let Ajax go to him. (To Ajax) 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.
ULYSSES	O Agamemnon, let it not be so. We’ll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord That bastes his arrogance with his own seam And never suffers matter of the world
(didascalia)	Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve
ULYSSES	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 assubjugate his merit, As amply titled as Achilles’ is, By going to Achilles— That were to enlard 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’.
NESTOR	(aside to Diomedes) O this is well. He rubs the vein of him.
DIOMEDES	(aside to Nestor) And how his silence drinks up this applause.
AJAX	If I go to him, with my armed fist I’ll pash him o’er the face.
AGAMEMNON	O no, you shall not go.
AJAX	An a be proud with me, I’ll feeze his pride. Let me go to him.
ULYSSES	Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
AJAX	A paltry insolent fellow.
NESTOR	(aside) How he describes himself!
AJAX	Can he not be sociable?
ULYSSES	(aside) The raven chides blackness.
AJAX	I’ll let his humour’s blood.
AGAMEMNON	(aside) He will be the physician that should be the patient.
AJAX	An all men were o’ my mind—
ULYSSES	(aside) Wit would be out of fashion.
AJAX	A should not bear it so. A should eat swords first. Shall pride carry it?
NESTOR	(aside) An’t would, you’d carry half.
(didascalia)	AJAX A would have ten shares.
(didascalia)	ULYSSES (aside) I will knead him; I’ll make him supple.
NESTOR	He’s not yet through warm.
NESTOR	(aside) Farce him with praises. Pour in, pour in! His ambition is dry.
ULYSSES	(to Agamemnon) My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
NESTOR	(to Agamemnon) Our noble general, do not do so.
DIOMEDES	(to Agamemnon) You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
ULYSSES	Why, ‘tis this naming of him does him harm. Here is a man—but ’tis before his face. I will be silent.
NESTOR	Wherefore should you so? He is not emulous, as Achilles is.
ULYSSES	Know the whole world he is as valiant—
AJAX	A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us—would he were a Trojan!
NESTOR	What a vice were it in Ajax now—
ULYSSES	If he were proud—
DIOMEDES	Or covetous of praise—
ULYSSES	Ay, or surly borne—
DIOMEDES	Or strange, or self-affected.
ULYSSES	(to Ajax) Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure. Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck. Famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature Thrice famed beyond, beyond all erudition. But he that disciplined thine arms to fight— Let Mars divide eternity in twain, And give him half. And for thy vigour, Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, Which like a bourn, a pale, a shore 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.
AJAX	Shall I call you father?
ULYSSES	Ay, my good son.
DIOMEDES	Be ruled by him, Lord Ajax.
ULYSSES	(to Agamemnon) There is no tarrying here: the hart Achilles Keeps thicket. Please it our great general To call together all his state of war. Fresh kings are come today 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 cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
AGAMEMNON	Go we to counsel. Let Achilles sleep. Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Tersite
TERSITE	Ebbene, Tersite? Come, perduto nel labirinto della tua furia? Se la porterà così l’elefante Aiace? Lui mi picchia e io lo insolentisco. O degna soddisfazione! Fosse il contrario: che io potessi picchiarlo mentre lui m’insolentisce. Corpo d’un cane, imparerò a evocare e a suscitare diavoli, ma voglio vedere qualche frutto delle mie maligne imprecazioni. Poi c’è Achille: un raro ingegnere. Se Troia non è presa finché questi due non la mineranno, le mura staranno in piedi finché non cadranno da sé. O tu grande scagliatore di fulmini d’Olimpo, dimentica d’essere Giove, il re degli dèi; e tu, Mercurio, perdi tutta la serpentina astuzia del tuo caduceo, se non toglierete loro quel poco, poco, meno che poco cervello che hanno—che, come sa l’ignoranza stessa dalle braccia corte, è così abbondantemente scarso che con nessun raggiro riuscirebbe a liberare una mosca da un ragno senza tirar fuori i loro massicci ferri e tagliare la tela. Dopo di questo, la vendetta su tutto il campo—o piuttosto, il mal d’ossa napoletano, ché quella mi pare la maledizione che pende su chi guerreggia per una sottana. Ho detto le mie preghiere, e il diavolo Invidia dica ‘Amen’.—Ehilà! Mio signore Achille!
(didascalia)	Entra
(didascalia)	Patroclo alla porta della tenda
(didascalia)	PATROCLO Chi è là? Tersite? Buon Tersite, entra e insolentisci. Esce
TERSITE	Se mi fossi ricordato d’un falso dorato, non mi saresti sfuggito dalla contemplazione; ma non importa. Te stesso su te stesso! La comune maledizione dell’umanità, follia e ignoranza, sia tua in gran rendita! Il cielo ti guardi da un maestro, e la disciplina non ti s’avvicini! Sia il tuo sangue la tua guida fino alla tua morte! Allora, se colei che ti comporrà dirà che sei un bel cadavere, giurerò e rigiurerò che non ha mai avvolto nel sudario altri che lazzaroni.
(didascalia)	Entra Patroclo
TERSITE	Amen.—Dov’è Achille?
PATROCLO	Come, sei devoto? Eri in preghiera?
TERSITE	Sì. I cieli m’ascoltino!
PATROCLO	Amen.
(didascalia)	Entra Achille
ACHILLE	Chi è là?
PATROCLO	Tersite, mio signore.
ACHILLE	Dove? Dove? Oh dove?—Sei venuto? Ebbene, mio formaggio, mia digestione, perché non ti sei servito alla mia tavola per tanti pasti? Su: che cos’è Agamennone?
TERSITE	Il tuo comandante, Achille.—Ora dimmi, Patroclo, che cos’è Achille?
PATROCLO	Il tuo signore, Tersite. Ora dimmi, ti prego, che cos’è Tersite?
TERSITE	Colui che ti conosce, Patroclo. Ora dimmi, Patroclo, che cosa sei tu?
PATROCLO	Puoi dirlo tu, che lo sai.
ACHILLE	Oh dillo, dillo.
TERSITE	Declinerò tutta la questione. Agamennone comanda Achille, Achille è il mio signore, io son colui che conosce Patroclo, e Patroclo è uno sciocco.
PATROCLO	Furfante.
TERSITE	Taci, sciocco, non ho finito.
ACHILLE	(a Patroclo) È un uomo privilegiato.—Procedi, Tersite.
TERSITE	Agamennone è uno sciocco, Achille è uno sciocco, Tersite è uno sciocco, e come detto sopra Patroclo è uno sciocco.
ACHILLE	Derivalo. Su.
TERSITE	Agamennone è uno sciocco a pretendere di comandare Achille; Achille è uno sciocco a farsi comandare da Agamennone; Tersite è uno sciocco a servire un tale sciocco; e Patroclo è uno sciocco in senso assoluto.
PATROCLO	Perché sono uno sciocco?
TERSITE	Rivolgi la domanda al Creatore. A me basta che lo sei. Guarda, chi viene qui?
(didascalia)	Entrano Agamennone, Ulisse, Nestore, Diomede, Aiace, e Calcante
ACHILLE	Patroclo, non parlerò con nessuno.—Vieni dentro con me, Tersite. Esce
TERSITE	Qui c’è un tale rappezzamento, tali giochi di bussolotti e tale furfanteria. Tutto l’argomento è una puttana e un cornuto. Bella contesa per tirar fuori fazioni rivali e dissanguarsi a morte sopra di essa. Ora la secca tigna su quel soggetto, e la guerra e la lussuria confondano tutto. Esce
AGAMENNONE	(a Patroclo) Dov’è Achille?
(didascalia)	Nella sua tenda; ma indisposto, mio signore.
AGAMENNONE	Gli sia fatto sapere che siamo qui. Ha affrontato i nostri messi, e noi deponiamo le nostre prerogative, venendo a visitarlo. Gli sia detto, perché per caso non pensi che non osiamo sollevare la questione del nostro rango, o che non sappiamo che cosa siamo.
PATROCLO	Così gli dirò.
(didascalia)	Esce
ULISSE	L’abbiamo visto all’apertura della sua tenda. Non è malato.
(didascalia)	AIACE Sì, malato di leone: malato di cuore superbo. Potete chiamarlo ‘malinconia’ se volete favorire l’uomo, ma sulla mia testa è superbia. Ma perché? Perché? Ci mostri la causa. Ad Agamennone Una parola, mio signore.
(didascalia)	Aiace e Agamennone parlano in disparte
NESTORE	Che cosa spinge Aiace a latrargli così contro?
ULISSE	Achille gli ha sottratto con lusinghe il suo buffone.
NESTORE	Chi? Tersite?
ULISSE	Lui.
NESTORE	Allora Aiace resterà senza materia, se ha perduto il suo argomento.
ULISSE	No, vedete, il suo argomento è colui che ha il suo argomento: Achille.
NESTORE	Tanto meglio—la loro frattura è più nel nostro desiderio della loro fazione. Ma era un consiglio ben forte, quello che uno sciocco ha potuto disunire.
ULISSE	L’amicizia che la saggezza non annoda, la follia può facilmente slegare.
(didascalia)	Entra Patroclo
ULISSE	Ecco che viene Patroclo.
NESTORE	Nessun Achille con lui.
ULISSE	L’elefante ha giunture, ma nessuna per la cortesia: le sue gambe son gambe per necessità, non per flettersi.
PATROCLO	(ad Agamennone) Achille mi comanda di dire che gli duole molto se qualcosa più del vostro diporto e piacere ha mosso la vostra grandezza e questo nobile consesso a fargli visita. Spera che non sia altro che per la vostra salute e per la vostra digestione: no una passeggiata dopo pranzo.
AGAMENNONE	Udite, Patroclo. Conosciamo troppo bene queste risposte. Ma la sua scappatoia, così veloce alata di scherno, non può volar più rapida del nostro intendimento. Molti pregi egli ha, e molte le ragioni per cui glieli attribuiamo. Pur tutte le sue virtù, non virtuosamente da lui stesso considerate, cominciano ai nostri occhi a perdere il lustro, sì, e come bel frutto in un piatto insalubre rischiano di marcire non assaggiate. Andate e ditegli che veniamo a parlare con lui—e non peccherete se dite che lo giudichiamo troppo superbo e poco onesto, più grande nella presunzione di sé che nella misura del giudizio. E uomini più degni di lui qui secondano la selvaggia stranezza che ostenta, dissimulano la sacra forza del loro comando, e sottoscrivono con deferenza il suo capriccioso predominio—sì, spiano i suoi stizzosi lunari, i suoi riflussi, i suoi flussi, come se il corso e l’intera condotta di quest’azione cavalcassero la sua marea. Andate a dirgli questo, e aggiungete che se tiene il suo prezzo tanto alto non ne vorremo sapere, ma lo lasceremo, come una macchina non trasportabile, sotto questa fama: ‘Portate qui l’azione, questa non può andare in guerra.’ A un nano che si muove diamo più pregio che a un gigante dormiente. Ditegli così.
PATROCLO	Lo farò, e porterò subito la sua risposta.
AGAMENNONE	Non ci accontenteremo d’una voce di seconda mano; veniamo a parlare con lui.—Ulisse, entrate voi.
(didascalia)	Esce Ulisse con Patroclo
AIACE	Che cos’è lui più d’un altro?
AGAMENNONE	Nulla più di quel che crede d’essere.
AIACE	È tanto? Non credete che si ritenga uomo migliore di me?
AGAMENNONE	Senza dubbio.
AIACE	Sottoscrivete il suo pensiero, e dite che lo è?
AGAMENNONE	No, nobile Aiace. Voi siete altrettanto forte, altrettanto valoroso, altrettanto saggio, non meno nobile, molto più gentile, e del tutto più trattabile.
AIACE	Perché un uomo dovrebbe essere superbo? Come cresce la superbia? Io non so che cosa sia.
AGAMENNONE	Tanto più limpida è la vostra mente, Aiace, e tanto più belle le vostre virtù. Chi è superbo divora se stesso. La Superbia è il proprio specchio, la propria tromba, la propria cronaca—e tutto ciò che si loda se non nell’atto divora l’atto nella lode.
(didascalia)	Entra Ulisse
AIACE	Odio un uomo superbo come odio la generazione dei rospi.
NESTORE	(a parte) E tuttavia ama se stesso. Non è strano?
ULISSE	Achille non andrà in campo domani.
AGAMENNONE	Qual è la sua scusa?
ULISSE	Non s’appoggia a nessuna, ma segue la corrente del proprio arbitrio senza osservanza né rispetto di alcuno, in volontà tutta sua e in ammissione di sé.
AGAMENNONE	Come, non vuole, alla nostra cortese richiesta, trarre la sua persona dalla tenda e dividere l’aria con noi?
ULISSE	Cose piccole come nulla, solo perché richieste, egli le fa importanti. È posseduto dalla grandezza, e non parla a se stesso che con una superbia che litiga col proprio fiato di sé. Il merito immaginato tiene nel suo sangue discorso così gonfio e caldo che fra le sue parti mentali e le sue attive Achille, fatto regno, infuria in tumulto e s’abbatte contro se stesso. Che dirò? È così pestilenzialmente superbo che i segni di morte del male gridano ‘Nessuna guarigione’.
AGAMENNONE	Vada Aiace da lui. (A Aiace) Caro signore, andate voi a salutarlo nella sua tenda. Si dice che vi tenga in buon conto e che si lascerà condurre, alla vostra richiesta, un poco fuori di sé.
ULISSE	O Agamennone, non sia così. Consacreremo i passi che Aiace fa quando s’allontanano da Achille. Il superbo signore che unge la propria arroganza col proprio grasso e non permette mai che materia del mondo
(didascalia)	Entri nei suoi pensieri, se non tale che si volga
ULISSE	e rumini lui stesso—dovrà egli essere adorato da colui che noi teniamo un idolo più di lui? No, questo tre volte degno e ben valoroso signore non deve così svilire la sua palma, nobilmente acquisita, né per mia volontà sottomettere il suo merito, ampiamente titolato quanto quello d’Achille, andando da Achille— ciò sarebbe ingrassare la sua già grassa superbia e aggiungere carboni al Cancro quando arde nell’ospitare il grande Iperione. Questo signore andare da lui? Giove non voglia, e dica nel tuono: ‘Achille, va’ tu da lui’.
NESTORE	(a parte, a Diomede) Oh, questo va bene. Gli tocca la vena giusta.
DIOMEDE	(a parte, a Nestore) E come il suo silenzio beve tutto quest’applauso.
AIACE	Se vado da lui, col mio pugno armato gli sfracellerò la faccia.
AGAMENNONE	Oh no, non andrete.
AIACE	E se fa il superbo con me, gli concerò la superbia. Lasciatemi andare da lui.
ULISSE	Nemmeno per tutto il valore che pende dalla nostra contesa.
AIACE	Un tipo meschino e insolente.
NESTORE	(a parte) Come descrive se stesso!
AIACE	Non può essere socievole?
ULISSE	(a parte) Il corvo rimprovera il nero.
AIACE	Caverò il sangue al suo umore.
AGAMENNONE	(a parte) Vuol essere il medico chi dovrebbe essere il paziente.
AIACE	Se tutti gli uomini fossero del mio parere—
ULISSE	(a parte) L’ingegno sarebbe fuori moda.
AIACE	Non se la caverebbe così. Mangerebbe spade prima. Se la porterà la superbia?
NESTORE	(a parte) Se la portasse, tu ne porteresti metà.
(didascalia)	AIACE Ne vorrebbe dieci parti.
(didascalia)	ULISSE (a parte) Lo impasterò; lo farò morbido.
NESTORE	Non è ancora ben caldo.
NESTORE	(a parte) Farcitelo di lodi. Versate, versate! La sua ambizione è asciutta.
ULISSE	(ad Agamennone) Mio signore, vi nutrite troppo di questo malanimo.
NESTORE	(ad Agamennone) Nostro nobile generale, non fate così.
DIOMEDE	(ad Agamennone) Dovete prepararvi a combattere senza Achille.
ULISSE	Ebbene, è questo nominarlo che gli fa male. Ecco qui un uomo—ma è in sua presenza. Tacerò.
NESTORE	E perché dovreste? Egli non è invidioso, come è Achille.
ULISSE	Sappia il mondo intero ch’egli è altrettanto valoroso—
AIACE	Un cane bastardo, che tergiversa così con noi—fosse un Troiano!
NESTORE	Che vizio sarebbe ora in Aiace—
ULISSE	s’egli fosse superbo—
DIOMEDE	o avido di lode—
ULISSE	sì, o d’indole scontrosa—
DIOMEDE	o schivo, o innamorato di sé.
ULISSE	(a Aiace) Ringrazia i cieli, signore, che sei di dolce composizione. Sia lodato chi ti generò, e colei che ti diede il latte. Famoso sia il tuo maestro, e le tue doti di natura tre volte famose oltre, oltre ogni erudizione. Ma colui che ammaestrò le tue braccia a combattere— Marte divida l’eternità in due, e gliene dia la metà. E quanto al tuo vigore, Milone portatore di tori ceda il suo titolo al nerboruto Aiace. Non loderò la tua saggezza, che come confine, come palizzata, come sponda circoscrive le tue spaziose e dilatate doti. Ecco Nestore, istruito dai tempi antichi: deve essere, è, non può non essere, saggio. Ma perdonate, padre Nestore: se i vostri giorni fossero verdi come quelli d’Aiace, e il vostro cervello temperato così, non avreste eminenza su di lui, ma sareste come Aiace.
AIACE	Devo chiamarvi padre?
ULISSE	Sì, mio buon figlio.
DIOMEDE	Lasciatevi guidare da lui, signor Aiace.
ULISSE	(ad Agamennone) Non c’è da indugiare qui: il cervo Achille sta nel folto. Piaccia al nostro gran generale di convocare tutto il suo consiglio di guerra. Nuovi re sono giunti oggi a Troia; domani dovremo con tutta la nostra forza tener fermo. Ed ecco un signore: vengano cavalieri da oriente a occidente e si scelga il loro fiore, Aiace affronterà il migliore.
AGAMENNONE	Andiamo a consiglio. Lasciamo dormire Achille. Le barche leggere corrono veloci, sebbene gli scafi maggiori peschino profondo. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Music sounds within. Enter Pandarus at one door and a Servant at another door
PANDARUS	Friend? You. Pray you, a word. Do not you follow the young Lord Paris?
SERVANT	Ay, sir, when he goes before me.
PANDARUS	You depend upon him, I mean.
SERVANT	Sir, I do depend upon the Lord.
PANDARUS	You depend upon a notable gentleman; I must needs praise him.
SERVANT	The Lord be praised!
PANDARUS	You know me—do you not?
SERVANT	Faith, sir, superficially.
PANDARUS	Friend, know me better. I am the Lord Pandarus.
SERVANT	I hope I shall know your honour better.
PANDARUS	I do desire it.
SERVANT	You are in the state of grace?
PANDARUS	Grace? Not so, friend. ‘Honour’ and ‘lordship’ are my titles. What music is this?
SERVANT	I do but partly know, sir. It is music in parts.
PANDARUS	Know you the musicians?
SERVANT	Wholly, sir.
PANDARUS	Who play they to?
SERVANT	To the hearers, sir.
PANDARUS	At whose pleasure, friend?
SERVANT	At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.
PANDARUS	‘Command’ I mean, friend.
SERVANT	Who shall I command, sir?
PANDARUS	Friend, we understand not one another. I am too courtly and thou too cunning. At whose request do these men play?
SERVANT	That’s to’t indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who’s there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love’s visible soul—
PANDARUS	Who, my cousin Cressida?
SERVANT	No, sir, Helen. Could not you find out that by her attributes?
PANDARUS	It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the Lady Cressid. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus. I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seethes.
SERVANT	Sodden business! There’s a stewed phrase, indeed.
(didascalia)	Enter Paris and Helen, attended by musicians
PANDARUS	Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company. Fair desires in all fair measure fairly guide them—especially to you, fair Queen. Fair thoughts be your fair pillow.
HELEN	Dear lord, you are full of fair words.
PANDARUS	You speak your fair pleasure, sweet Queen. (To Paris) Fair prince, here is good broken music.
PARIS	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.
PANDARUS	Truly, lady, no.
HELEN	O sir.
(didascalia)	She tickles him
PANDARUS	Rude, in sooth, in good sooth very rude.
PARIS	Well said, my lord. Will you say so in fits?
PANDARUS	I have business to my lord, dear Queen.—My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word?
HELEN	Nay, this shall not hedge us out. We’ll hear you sing, certainly.
PANDARUS	Well, sweet Queen, you are pleasant with me.—But marry, thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus—
HELEN	My lord Pandarus, honey-sweet lord.
PANDARUS	Go to, sweet Queen, go tot—commends himself most affectionately to you.
HELEN	You shall not bob us out of our melody. If you do, our melancholy upon your head.
PANDARUS	Sweet Queen, sweet Queen, that’s a sweet Queen. Ay, faith—
HELEN	And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.
PANDARUS	Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it 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.
HELEN	My lord Pandarus.
PANDARUS	What says my sweet Queen, my very very sweet Queen?
PARIS	What exploit’s in hand? Where sups he tonight?
HELEN	Nay, but my lord—
PANDARUS	What says my sweet Queen? My cousin will fall out with you.
HELEN	(to Paris) You must not know where he sups.
PARIS	I’ll lay my life, with my dispenser Cressida.
PANDARUS	No, no! No such matter. You are wide. Come, your dispenser is sick.
PARIS	Well, I’ll make’s excuse.
PANDARUS	Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? No, your poor dispenser’s sick.
PARIS	‘I spy.’
(didascalia)	PANDARUS You spy? What do you spy?—To a musician
PARIS	Come, give me an instrument.—Now, sweet Queen.
HELEN	Why, this is kindly done!
PANDARUS	My niece is horrible in love with a thing you have, sweet Queen.
HELEN	She shall have it, my lord—if it be not my lord Paris.
PANDARUS	He? No, she’ll none of him. They two are twain.
HELEN	Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.
PANDARUS	Come, come, I’ll hear no more of this. I’ll sing you a song now.
HELEN	Ay, ay, prithee. Now by my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead.
(didascalia)	She strokes his forehead
PANDARUS	Ay, you may, you may.
HELEN	Let thy song be love. ‘This love will undo us all.’ O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!
PANDARUS	Love? Ay, that it shall, i’faith.
PARIS	Ay, good now, ‘Love, love, nothing but love’.
PANDARUS	In good truth, it begins so. (Sings) Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more! For O love’s bow Shoots buck and doe. The shaft confounds Not that it wounds, But tickles still the sore. These lovers cry ‘O! O!’, they die. Yet that which seems the wound to kill Doth turn ‘O! O!’ to ‘ha ha he!’ So dying love lives still. ‘O! O!’ a while, but ‘ha ha ha!’ ‘O! O!’ groans out for ‘ha ha ha!’— Heigh-ho.
HELEN	In love—ay, faith, to the very tip of the nose.
PARIS	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.
PANDARUS	Is this the generation of love: hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?
(didascalia)	Alarum
PANDARUS	Sweet lord, who’s afield today?
PARIS	Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy. I would fain have armed today, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?
HELEN	He hangs the lip at something. You know all, Lord Pandarus.
PANDARUS	Not I, honey-sweet Queen. I long to hear how they sped today.—You’ll remember your brother’s excuse?
PARIS	To a hair.
PANDARUS	Farewell, sweet Queen.
HELEN	Commend me to your niece.
PANDARUS	I will, sweet Queen. Exit
(didascalia)	Sound a retreat
PARIS	They’re come from 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.
HELEN	’Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris; Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty Gives us more palm in beauty than we have— Yea, overshines ourself.
PARIS	Sweet above thought, I love thee!
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Musica suona dentro. Entra Pandaro da una porta e un Servo da un’altra porta
PANDARO	Amico? Voi. Di grazia, una parola. Non seguite voi il giovane signor Paride?
SERVO	Sì, signore, quando mi va davanti.
PANDARO	Dipendete da lui, voglio dire.
SERVO	Signore, io dipendo dal Signore.
PANDARO	Dipendete da un notevole gentiluomo; devo proprio lodarlo.
SERVO	Sia lodato il Signore!
PANDARO	Mi conoscete—non è vero?
SERVO	In fede, signore, superficialmente.
PANDARO	Amico, conoscetemi meglio. Io sono il signor Pandaro.
SERVO	Spero di conoscere meglio vostro onore.
PANDARO	Lo desidero.
SERVO	Siete in stato di grazia?
PANDARO	Grazia? Non è così, amico. ‘Onore’ e ‘signoria’ sono i miei titoli. Che musica è questa?
SERVO	Lo so solo in parte, signore. È musica a più parti.
PANDARO	Conoscete i musicanti?
SERVO	Del tutto, signore.
PANDARO	Per chi suonano?
SERVO	Per chi ascolta, signore.
PANDARO	A piacere di chi, amico?
SERVO	Del mio, signore, e di quelli che amano la musica.
PANDARO	‘Comando’ volevo dire, amico.
SERVO	Chi devo comandare, signore?
PANDARO	Amico, non ci capiamo l’un l’altro. Io sono troppo cortigiano e tu troppo astuto. A richiesta di chi suonano questi uomini?
SERVO	Ecco che ci siamo davvero, signore. Perbacco, signore, a richiesta di Paride mio signore, che è là in persona; con lui, la mortale Venere, il sangue del cuore della bellezza, l’anima visibile dell’amore—
PANDARO	Chi, mia cugina Cressida?
SERVO	No, signore, Elena. Non l’avreste indovinato dai suoi attributi?
PANDARO	Parrebbe, amico, che tu non abbia veduto la signora Cressida. Vengo a parlare con Paride da parte del principe Troilo. Gli darò un assalto di complimenti, ché il mio affare bolle.
SERVO	Affare lesso! Ecco davvero una frase stufata.
(didascalia)	Entrano Paride ed Elena, accompagnati da musicanti
PANDARO	Bel saluto a voi, mio signore, e a tutta questa bella compagnia. Bei desideri in ogni bella misura bellamente li guidino—specialmente a voi, bella regina. Bei pensieri siano il vostro bel guanciale.
ELENA	Caro signore, siete pieno di belle parole.
PANDARO	Dite il vostro bel piacere, dolce regina. (A Paride) Bel principe, ecco della buona musica spezzata.
PARIDE	L’avete spezzata voi, cugino, e sulla mia vita la renderete intera di nuovo. La rappezzerete con un pezzo della vostra esecuzione.—Nella, è pieno d’armonia.
PANDARO	Davvero, signora, no.
ELENA	Oh, signore.
(didascalia)	Gli fa il solletico
PANDARO	Rozzo, in verità, in buona verità molto rozzo.
PARIDE	Ben detto, mio signore. Lo direte così, a strofe?
PANDARO	Ho un affare col mio signore, cara regina.—Mio signore, mi concedete una parola?
ELENA	No, questo non ci escluderà. Vi sentiremo cantare, certamente.
PANDARO	Bene, dolce regina, scherzate con me.—Ma dunque, così, mio signore: mio caro signore e stimatissimo amico, vostro fratello Troilo—
ELENA	Mio signor Pandaro, signore dolce come il miele.
PANDARO	Via, dolce regina, via tot—si raccomanda a voi affettuosissimamente.
ELENA	Non ci truffate della nostra melodia. Se lo fate, la nostra malinconia sul vostro capo.
PANDARO	Dolce regina, dolce regina, questa è una dolce regina. Sì, in fede—
ELENA	E rendere triste una dolce signora è un’offesa acida.
PANDARO	No, questo non vi servirà; no davvero, in verità, via. No, non m’importa di tali parole. No, no.—E, mio signore, egli vi prega che, se il re lo chiama a cena, voi lo scusiate.
ELENA	Mio signor Pandaro.
PANDARO	Che dice la mia dolce regina, la mia dolcissima dolcissima regina?
PARIDE	Che impresa si prepara? Dove cena stasera?
ELENA	No, ma mio signore—
PANDARO	Che dice la mia dolce regina? Mia cugina si guasterà con voi.
ELENA	(a Paride) Non dovete sapere dove cena.
PARIDE	Scommetto la vita: con la mia dispensiera Cressida.
PANDARO	No, no! Nulla di ciò. Siete fuori bersaglio. Suvvia, la vostra dispensiera è malata.
PARIDE	Bene, lo scuserò.
PANDARO	Sì, mio buon signore. Perché dovreste dire Cressida? No, la vostra povera dispensiera è malata.
PARIDE	‘Ti vedo.’
(didascalia)	PANDARO Voi vedete? Che cosa vedete?—A un musicante
PARIDE	Su, dammi uno strumento.—Ora, dolce regina.
ELENA	Ecco, questo è fatto con gentilezza!
PANDARO	Mia nipote è orribilmente innamorata d’una cosa che avete voi, dolce regina.
ELENA	L’avrà, mio signore—se non è il mio signor Paride.
PANDARO	Lui? No, non ne vuole sapere. Loro due sono divisi.
ELENA	Il ricongiungersi, dopo il disgiungersi, potrebbe farli tre.
PANDARO	Via, via, non ne voglio più sentire. Vi canterò ora una canzone.
ELENA	Sì, sì, di grazia. Ora sulla mia fede, dolce signore, hai una bella fronte.
(didascalia)	Gli accarezza la fronte
PANDARO	Sì, potete, potete.
ELENA	Sia la tua canzone l’amore. ‘Quest’amore ci rovinerà tutti.’ O Cupido, Cupido, Cupido!
PANDARO	L’amore? Sì, lo farà, in fede mia.
PARIDE	Sì, su via, ‘Amore, amore, nulla che non sia amore’.
PANDARO	In buona verità, comincia così. (Canta) Amore, amore, nulla che non sia amore, sempre amore, sempre più! Ché oh, l’arco d’amore colpisce cervo e cerva. Il dardo sconvolge non perché ferisce, ma perché stuzzica sempre la piaga. Questi amanti gridano ‘Oh! Oh!’, e muoiono. Pur ciò che sembra la ferita che uccide muta ‘Oh! Oh!’ in ‘ah ah ah!’ Così l’amore, morendo, vive ancora. ‘Oh! Oh!’ per un poco, ma poi ‘ah ah ah!’ ‘Oh! Oh!’ geme e si volge in ‘ah ah ah!’— Ehi-ohi.
ELENA	Innamorato—sì, in fede, fino alla punta del naso.
PARIDE	Non mangia altro che colombe, amore, e questo genera sangue caldo, e il sangue caldo genera pensieri caldi, e i pensieri caldi generano atti caldi, e gli atti caldi sono amore.
PANDARO	È questa la generazione dell’amore: sangue caldo, pensieri caldi, e atti caldi? Ebbene, son vipere. È l’amore una generazione di vipere?
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme
PANDARO	Dolce signore, chi è in campo oggi?
PARIDE	Ettore, Deifobo, Eleno, Antenore, e tutto il fiore della cavalleria di Troia. Avrei ben voluto armarmi oggi, ma la mia Nella non l’ha voluto. Com’è che mio fratello Troilo non è andato?
ELENA	Ha il labbro pendente per qualcosa. Voi sapete tutto, signor Pandaro.
PANDARO	Non io, regina dolce come il miele. Non aspetto che di sentire come sono andati oggi.—Vi ricorderete della scusa di vostro fratello?
PARIDE	A puntino.
PANDARO	Addio, dolce regina.
ELENA	Salutatemi vostra nipote.
PANDARO	Lo farò, dolce regina. Esce
(didascalia)	Si suoni la ritirata
PARIDE	Sono tornati dal campo. Andiamo alla sala di Priamo a salutare i guerrieri. Dolce Elena, devo pregarvi d’aiutarmi a disarmare il nostro Ettore. Le sue ostinate fibbie, toccate da queste vostre bianche dita incantatrici, obbediranno più che al filo dell’acciaio o alla forza dei nervi greci. Voi farete più di tutti i re delle isole: disarmerete il grande Ettore.
ELENA	Ci renderà orgogliose d’essergli serva, Paride; sì, ciò ch’egli riceverà da noi in omaggio ci dà più palma di bellezza di quanta ne abbiamo— sì, oscura noi stessa.
PARIDE	Dolce oltre ogni pensiero, io t’amo!
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus at one door and Troilus’ man at another door
PANDARUS	How now, where’s thy master? At my cousin Cressida’s?
MAN	No, sir, he stays for you to conduct him thither.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
PANDARUS	O here he comes.—How now, how now?
TROILUS	Sirrah, walk off. Exit Man
PANDARUS	Have you seen my cousin?
TROILUS	No, Pandarus, I stalk about her door Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to those fields Where I may wallow in the lily beds Proposed for the deserver. O gentle Pandar, From Cupid’s shoulder pluck his painted wings And fly with me to Cressid.
PANDARUS	Walk here i’th’ orchard. I’ll bring her straight.
(didascalia)	Exit
TROILUS	I am giddy. Expectation whirls me round. Th‘imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense. What will it be When that the wat’ry palates taste indeed Love’s thrice-repurèd nectar? Death, I fear me, Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine, Too subtle-potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness For 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
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 frayed with a spirit. I’ll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain! She fetches her breath as short as a new-ta’en sparrow.
(didascalia)	Exit
TROILUS	Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom. My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse, And all my powers do their bestowing lose, Like vassalage at unawares encount’ring The eye of majesty.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus, with Cressida veiled
(didascalia)	PANDARUS (to Cressida) Come, come, what need you blush? Shame’s a baby. (To Troilus) Here she is now. Swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me. (To Cressida) What, are you gone again? You must be watched ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways. An you draw backward, we’ll put you i‘th’ thills. (To Troilus) Why do you not speak to her? (To Cressida) Come, draw this curtain, and let’s see your picture. He unveils her Alas the day! How loath you are to offend daylight! An’t were dark, you’d close sooner. So, so. (To Troilus) Rub on, and kiss the mistress. (They kiss) How now, a kiss in fee farm! Build there, carpenter, the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i’th’ river. Go to, go to.
TROILUS	You have bereft me of all words, lady.
PANDARUS	Words pay no debts; give her deeds. But she’ll bereave you o‘th’ deeds too, if she call your activity in question. (They kiss) What, billing again? Here’s ‘in witness whereof the parties interchangeably’. Come in, come in. I’ll go get a fire. Exit
CRESSIDA	Will you walk in, my lord?
TROILUS	O Cressida, how often have I wished me thus.
CRESSIDA	Wished, my lord? The gods grant—O, my lordl
TROILUS	What should they grant? What makes this pretty abruption? What too-curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
CRESSIDA	More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.
TROILUS	Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly.
CRESSIDA	Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason, stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oft cures the worse.
TROILUS	O let my lady apprehend no fear. In all Cupid’s pageant there is presented no monster.
CRESSIDA	Nor nothing monstrous neither?
TROILUS	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 imposition enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady—that the will is infinite and the execution confined; that the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.
CRESSIDA	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 hares, are they not monsters?
TROILUS	Are there such? Such are not we. Praise us as we are tasted; allow us as we prove. Our head shall go bare till merit crown it. No perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present. We will not name desert before his birth, and being born his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith. Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst shall be a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest, not truer than Troilus.
CRESSIDA	Will you walk in, my lord?
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
PANDARUS	What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet?
CRESSIDA	Well, uncle, what folly I commit I dedicate to you.
PANDARUS	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.
TROILUS	(to Cressida) You know now your hostages: your uncle’s word and my firm faith.
PANDARUS	Nay, I’ll give my word for her too. Our kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed, they are constant being won. They are burrs, I can tell you: they’ll stick where they are thrown.
CRESSIDA	Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart. Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day For many weary months.
TROILUS	Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?
CRESSIDA	Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord, With the first glance that ever—pardon me: If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. I love you now, but till now not 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 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 in dumbness, in my weakness draws My soul of counsel from me. Stop my mouth.
TROILUS	And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence. He kisses her
PANDARUS	Pretty, i’ faith.
CRESSIDA	(to Troilus) My lord, I do beseech you pardon me. ’Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss. I am ashamed. O heavens, what have I done? For this time will I take my leave, my lord. TROILUS Your leave, sweet Cressid?
PANDARUS	Leave? An you take leave till tomorrow morning—
CRESSIDA	Pray you, content you.
TROILUS	What offends you, lady?
CRESSIDA	Sir, mine own company.
TROILUS	You cannot shun yourself.
CRESSIDA	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. Where is my wit? I would be gone. I speak I know not what.
TROILUS	Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely.
CRESSIDA	Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love, And 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.
TROILUS	O that I thought it could be in a woman— As, if it can, I will presume in you— To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love, To keep her constancy in plight and youth, Outliving beauty’s outward, with a mind That 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.
CRESSIDA	In that I’ll war with you.
TROILUS	O virtuous fight, When right with right wars who shall be most right. True swains in love shall in the world to come Approve their truth by Troilus. When their rhymes, Full of protest, of oath and big compare, Wants similes, truth tired with iteration— ‘As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to th’ centre’— Yet, after all comparisons of truth, As truth’s authentic author to be cited, ’As true as Troilus’ shall crown up the verse And sanctify the numbers.
CRESSIDA	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, or wolf to heifer’s calf, Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son’, Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, ‘As false as Cressid’.
PANDARUS	Go to, a bargain made. Seal it, seal it. I’ll be the witness. Here I hold your hand; here, my cousin’s. If ever you prove false one to another, since I have taken such pain to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world’s end after my name: call them all panders. Let all constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers-between panders. Say ‘Amen’.
TROILUS	Amen.
CRESSIDA	Amen.
PANDARUS	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!
(didascalia)	Exeunt Troilus and Cressida
PANDARUS	And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here Bed, chamber, pander to provide this gear. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Pandaro da una porta e il servo di Troilo da un’altra porta
PANDARO	Ebbene, dov’è il tuo padrone? In casa di mia cugina Cressida?
SERVO	No, signore, aspetta che voi lo conduciate colà.
(didascalia)	Entra Troilo
PANDARO	Oh, ecco che viene.—Ebbene, ebbene?
TROILO	Tu, vattene. Esce il Servo
PANDARO	Avete veduto mia cugina?
TROILO	No, Pandaro, io m’aggiro intorno alla sua porta come un’anima straniera sulle rive dello Stige in attesa del traghetto. Oh, sii tu il mio Caronte, e dammi rapido passaggio a quei campi dove possa voltolarmi nei letti di giglio destinati a chi li merita. O gentile Pandaro, strappa dalla spalla di Cupido le sue ali dipinte e vola con me a Cressida.
PANDARO	Passeggiate qui nel frutteto. La porterò subito.
(didascalia)	Esce
TROILO	Ho il capo che gira. L’attesa mi fa vortice attorno. Il gusto immaginato è così dolce che m’incanta i sensi. Che sarà quando i palati acquolinosi gusteranno davvero il nettare tre volte raffinato dell’amore? La morte, temo, distruzione per deliquio, o qualche gioia troppo fine, troppo sottilmente potente, intonata troppo acuta in dolcezza per la capacità delle mie più rozze facoltà. Molto lo temo, e temo inoltre che perderò ogni distinzione nelle mie gioie, come fa una battaglia quando caricano a mucchi sul nemico in fuga.
(didascalia)	Entra Pandaro
PANDARO	Si sta preparando. Verrà subito. Ora dovete esser spiritoso. Arrossisce tanto, e tira il fiato così corto come se fosse spaventata da uno spettro. Vado a prenderla. È la più graziosa birbante! Tira il respiro corto come un passero appena catturato.
(didascalia)	Esce
TROILO	Proprio tale passione stringe il mio petto. Il cuore mi batte più fitto d’un polso febbrile, e tutte le mie facoltà perdono il loro governo, come vassalli che all’improvviso incontrano l’occhio della maestà.
(didascalia)	Entra Pandaro, con Cressida velata
(didascalia)	PANDARO (a Cressida) Su, su, che bisogno hai d’arrossire? La vergogna è una bimba. (A Troilo) Eccola qui ora. Giuratele ora i giuramenti che avete giurato a me. (A Cressida) Come, te ne vai di nuovo? Bisogna tenerti in veglia prima che ti si addomestichi, eh? Vieni avanti, vieni avanti. E se tiri indietro, ti metteremo nelle stanghe. (A Troilo) Perché non le parlate? (A Cressida) Su, tira questo velo, e vediamo il tuo ritratto. Le toglie il velo Ahi, che giornata! Come vi ripugna offendere la luce del giorno! Se fosse buio, vi accostereste più presto. Così, così. (A Troilo) Sfregate avanti, e baciate la padrona. (Si baciano) Ecco qua, un bacio in enfiteusi! Costruisci lì, carpentiere, l’aria è dolce. Anzi, vi batterete a cuore aperto prima ch’io vi separi. Il falco quanto il terzuolo, per tutte le anatre del fiume. Via, via.
TROILO	M’avete privato d’ogni parola, signora.
PANDARO	Le parole non pagano debiti; datele fatti. Ma vi priverà anche dei fatti, se metterà in questione la vostra attività. (Si baciano) Come, di nuovo a beccarsi? Ecco l’‘in testimonianza di che le parti reciprocamente’. Entrate, entrate. Vado ad accendere il fuoco. Esce
CRESSIDA	Volete entrare, mio signore?
TROILO	O Cressida, quante volte mi son desiderato così.
CRESSIDA	Desiderato, mio signore? Gli dèi concedano—Oh, mio signorl
TROILO	Che dovrebbero concedere? Che cosa causa questa graziosa interruzione? Qual feccia troppo curiosa scorge la mia dolce signora nella fontana del nostro amore?
CRESSIDA	Più feccia che acqua, se le mie paure hanno occhi.
TROILO	Le paure fanno diavoli dei cherubini; non vedono mai il vero.
CRESSIDA	La paura cieca, guidata dalla ragione che vede, trova passo più sicuro della ragione cieca, che inciampa senza paura. Temere il peggio spesso guarisce il peggiore.
TROILO	Oh, non concepisca paura la mia signora. In tutta la mascherata di Cupido non si presenta alcun mostro.
CRESSIDA	E nemmeno nulla di mostruoso?
TROILO	Nulla se non le nostre imprese, quando giuriamo di piangere mari, di vivere nel fuoco, di mangiar rocce, di domar tigri, credendo più difficile per la nostra donna escogitare imposizioni bastanti che per noi sopportare qualunque difficoltà imposta. Questa è la mostruosità nell’amore, signora—che la volontà è infinita e l’esecuzione confinata; che il desiderio è senza confini e l’atto schiavo del limite.
CRESSIDA	Dicono che tutti gli amanti giurano più prestazioni di quante ne siano capaci, e pure serbano una capacità che mai adempiono: promettendo più della perfezione di dieci, e sborsando meno della decima parte d’uno. Quelli che hanno la voce dei leoni e l’atto delle lepri, non sono mostri?
TROILO	Ce ne sono di tali? Tali non siamo noi. Lodateci come siamo assaggiati; concedeteci quel che dimostriamo. Il nostro capo andrà nudo finché il merito non lo incoroni. Nessuna perfezione futura avrà lode nel presente. Non nomineremo il merito prima della sua nascita, e nato che sia il suo titolo sarà umile. Poche parole per una bella fede. Troilo sarà tale verso Cressida che il peggio che l’invidia possa dire sarà una beffa per la sua verità; e ciò che la verità può dire di più vero, non più vero di Troilo.
CRESSIDA	Volete entrare, mio signore?
(didascalia)	Entra Pandaro
PANDARO	Come, ancora ad arrossire? Non avete ancora finito di parlare?
CRESSIDA	Bene, zio, qualunque follia io commetta, la dedico a voi.
PANDARO	Ti ringrazio di questo. Se il mio signore ti fa un maschio, lo darai a me. Sii fedele al mio signore. Se lui vacilla, rimprovera me.
TROILO	(a Cressida) Ora conoscete i vostri pegni: la parola di vostro zio e la mia ferma fede.
PANDARO	Anzi, darò la mia parola anche per lei. I nostri parenti, sebbene siano lunghi a farsi corteggiare, sono costanti una volta conquistati. Sono lappole, ve lo posso dire: s’attaccano dove sono gettate.
CRESSIDA	L’ardire mi viene ora, e mi porta coraggio. Principe Troilo, v’ho amato notte e giorno per molti mesi penosi.
TROILO	Perché la mia Cressida fu allora così difficile da conquistare?
CRESSIDA	Difficile a parer conquistata; ma fui conquistata, mio signore, col primo sguardo che mai—perdonatemi: se confesso troppo, farete il tiranno. V’amo ora, ma fino ad ora non tanto che non potessi dominarlo. In fede, mento: i miei pensieri erano come bimbi sfrenati, cresciuti troppo testardi per la loro madre. Vedete, noi sciocche! Perché ho ciarlato? Chi sarà fedele a noi, quando siamo così poco segrete con noi stesse? Ma sebbene v’amassi bene, non vi corteggiai— e pure, in buona fede, mi volevo uomo, o che noi donne avessimo il privilegio degli uomini di parlare per prime. Dolce, ordinatemi di tacere, ché in questo rapimento dirò certamente ciò di cui mi pentirò. Vedete, vedete, il vostro silenzio, astuto nel mutismo, nella mia debolezza mi trae l’anima del segreto. Chiudetemi la bocca.
TROILO	E lo farò, sebbene dolce musica ne esca. La bacia
PANDARO	Graziosa, in fede mia.
CRESSIDA	(a Troilo) Mio signore, vi supplico di perdonarmi. Non era mia intenzione mendicare così un bacio. Mi vergogno. O cieli, che ho fatto? Per questa volta prendo congedo, mio signore. TROILO Il vostro congedo, dolce Cressida?
PANDARO	Congedo? Se prendete congedo fino a domattina—
CRESSIDA	Vi prego, acquietatevi.
TROILO	Che vi offende, signora?
CRESSIDA	Signore, la mia propria compagnia.
TROILO	Non potete sfuggire a voi stessa.
CRESSIDA	Lasciatemi andare a provarci. Ho una specie di me che risiede con voi— ma un me snaturato, che abbandonerà se stesso per essere lo zimbello d’un altro. Dov’è il mio senno? Vorrei andarmene. Parlo non so che.
TROILO	Bene sanno quel che dicono coloro che parlano così saviamente.
CRESSIDA	Forse, mio signore, mostro più astuzia che amore, e caddi così tondamente in un’ampia confessione per pescare i vostri pensieri. Ma voi siete savio, o altrimenti non amate—ché esser savio e amare eccede il potere dell’uomo: quello dimora presso gli dèi.
TROILO	Oh, s’io credessi che potesse esservi in una donna— e, se può esservi, lo presumerò in voi— d’alimentare in eterno la sua lampada e le fiamme d’amore, di mantenere la sua costanza in vigore e giovinezza, sopravvivendo all’esterno della bellezza, con una mente che si rinnova più veloce di quanto il sangue decada; o che la persuasione potesse così convincermi che la mia integrità e fedeltà verso voi potessero esser affrontate dal pari e dal peso di tale vagliata purezza in amore. Come sarei allora esaltato! Ma ahimè, io sono fedele quanto la semplicità della verità, e più semplice dell’infanzia della verità.
CRESSIDA	In questo guerreggerò con voi.
TROILO	O virtuoso combattimento, quando il giusto col giusto contende chi sarà più giusto. I fedeli amanti in amore nel mondo a venire proveranno la loro fedeltà con Troilo. Quando le loro rime, piene di proteste, di giuramenti e di grandi paragoni, mancheranno di similitudini, la verità stanca di ripetersi— ‘fedele come l’acciaio, come la pianta alla luna, come il sole al giorno, come la tortora al compagno, come il ferro al diamante, come la terra al centro’— pure, dopo tutti i paragoni di fedeltà, da citarsi come autentico autore della verità, ‘fedele come Troilo’ coronerà il verso e santificherà i metri.
CRESSIDA	Profeta possiate essere! S’io sarò falsa, o devierò d’un capello dalla verità, quando il tempo sarà vecchio e si sarà dimenticato di sé, quando le gocce d’acqua avranno consumato le pietre di Troia e il cieco oblio avrà inghiottito le città, e potenti stati, senza più segno, saran ridotti a polveroso nulla, allora la memoria, di falsa in falsa, fra le fanciulle infedeli in amore, rimproveri la mia falsità. Quando avranno detto: ‘falsa come l’aria, come l’acqua, il vento o la terra sabbiosa, come la volpe all’agnello, o il lupo al vitello della giovenca, il leopardo alla cerva, o la matrigna al figliastro’, sì, dicano, per trafiggere il cuore della falsità: ‘falsa come Cressida’.
PANDARO	Via, il patto è fatto. Sigillatelo, sigillatelo. Io sarò il testimone. Qui tengo la vostra mano; qui, quella di mia cugina. Se mai sarete falsi l’uno con l’altra, poiché mi son dato tanta pena per unirvi, tutti i pietosi mezzani siano chiamati fino alla fine del mondo col mio nome: chiamateli tutti pandari. Tutti gli uomini costanti siano Troili, tutte le donne false Cresside, e tutti i sensali pandari. Dite ‘Amen’.
TROILO	Amen.
CRESSIDA	Amen.
PANDARO	Amen. Sul che vi mostrerò una camera con un letto—e quel letto, perché non parli dei vostri graziosi incontri, schiacciatelo a morte. Via!
(didascalia)	Escono Troilo e Cressida
PANDARO	E Cupido conceda a tutte le fanciulle qui mute letto, camera, mezzano a fornir tal faccenda. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Ajax, and Calchas
CALCHAS	Now, princes, for the service I have done you, Th‘advantage of the time prompts me aloud To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind That through the sight I bear in things to come I have abandoned Troy, left my profession, Incurred a traitor’s name, exposed myself From certain and possessed conveniences To doubtful fortunes, sequest’ring from me all That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition Made tame and most familiar to my nature, And here to do you service am become As new into the world, strange, unacquainted. I do beseech you, as in way of taste, To give me now a little benefit Out of those many registered in promise Which you say live to come in my behalf.
AGAMEMNON	What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? Make demand.
CALCHAS	You have a Trojan prisoner called Antenor, Yesterday took. Troy holds him very dear. Oft have you—often have you thanks therefor— Desired my Cressid in right great exchange, Whom Troy hath still denied. But this Antenor I know is such a wrest 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.
AGAMEMNON	Let Diomedes bear him, And bring us Cressid hither; Calchas shall have What he requests of us. Good Diomed, Furnish you fairly for this interchange; Withal bring word if Hector will tomorrow Be answered in his challenge. Ajax is ready.
DIOMEDES	This shall I undertake, and ’tis a burden Which I am proud to bear. Exit with Calchas
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles and Patroclus in their tent
ULYSSES	Achilles stands i‘th’ entrance of his tent. Please it our general 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, why turned 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 do good. Pride hath no other glass To show itself but pride; for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man’s fees.
AGAMEMNON	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. They pass by the tent, in turn
ACHILLES	What, comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind: I’ll fight no more ’gainst Troy.
AGAMEMNON	(to Nestor) What says Achilles? Would he aught with us?
NESTOR	(to Achilles) Would you, my lord, aught with the general?
ACHILLES	No.
NESTOR	(to Agamemnon) Nothing, my lord.
AGAMEMNON	The better.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor
(didascalia)	ACHILLES to Menelaus Good day, good day.
MENELAUS	How do you? How do you?
(didascalia)	Exit
ACHILLES	(to Patroclus) What, does the cuckold scorn me?
AJAX	How now, Patroclus?
ACHILLES	Good morrow, Ajax.
AJAX	Ha?
ACHILLES	Good morrow.
AJAX	Ay, and good next day too.
(didascalia)	Exit
ACHILLES	(to Patroclus) What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?
PATROCLUS	They pass by strangely. They were used to bend, To send their smiles before them to Achilles, To come as humbly as they use to creep To holy altars.
ACHILLES	What, am I poor of late? ‘Tis certain, greatness once fall’n out with fortune Must fall out with men too. What the declined 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, and favour: Prizes of accident as oft as merit; Which, when they fall, as being slippery standers— The love that leaned on them, as slippery too— Doth 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 methinks 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?
ULYSSES	Now, great Thetis’ son.
ACHILLES	What are you reading?
ULYSSES	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, Heat them, and they retort that heat again To the first givers.
ACHILLES	This is not strange, Ulysses. The beauty that is borne 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 is mirrored there Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all.
ULYSSES	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 th‘applause Where they’re extended—who, like an arch, reverb’rate The voice again; or, like a gate of steel Fronting the sun, receives and renders back His figure and his heat. I was much rapt 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 doth throw upon him. Ajax renowned? O heavens, what some men do, While some men leave to do. How some men creep in skittish Fortune’s hall Whiles 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 shrinking.
ACHILLES	I do believe it, For they passed by me as misers do by beggars, Neither gave to me good word nor look. What, are my deeds forgot?
ULYSSES	Time 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 mock‘ry. Take the instant way, For honour travels in a strait 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 fall’n in first rank, Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, O’errun and trampled on. Then what they do in present, Though less than yours in past, must o‘ertop yours. For Time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by th’ hand And, with his arms outstretched as he would fly, Grasps in the comer. Welcome ever smiles, And Farewell goes out sighing. O let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin— That all with one consent praise new-born gauds, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o’er-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 ’mongst the gods themselves, And drove great Mars to faction.
ACHILLES	Of this my privacy I have strong reasons.
ULYSSES	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.
ACHILLES	Ha? Known?
ULYSSES	Is that a wonder? The providence that’s in a watchful state Knows almost every grain of Pluto’s gold, Finds bottom in th’uncomprehensive deeps, Keeps place with aught, and almost like the gods Do infant 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 Polyxena. But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, When fame shall in his island 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 as your lover speak. The fool slides o’er the ice that you should break. Exit
PATROCLUS	To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you. A woman impudent and mannish 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 dew-drop from the lion’s mane Be shook to air.
ACHILLES	Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
PATROCLUS	Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.
ACHILLES	I see my reputation is at stake. My fame is shrewdly gored.
PATROCLUS	O then beware: Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves. Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger, And danger like an ague subtly taints Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
ACHILLES	Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus. I’ll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him T’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,
(didascalia)	Enter Thersites
ACHILLES	To talk with him and to behold his visage Even to my full of view.—A labour saved.
THERSITES	A wonder!
ACHILLES	What?
THERSITES	Ajax goes up and down the field, as asking for himself.
ACHILLES	How so?
THERSITES	He must fight singly tomorrow with Hector, and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying nothing.
ACHILLES	How can that be?
THERSITES	Why, a stalks up and down like a peacock—a stride and a stand; ruminates like an hostess that hath 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 this head, an’t would 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, for if Hector break not his neck i‘th’ combat he’ll break’t himself in vainglory. He knows not me. I said, ‘Good morrow, Ajax’, and he replies, ‘Thanks, Agamemnon’. What think you of this man that takes me for the General? He’s grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! A man may wear it on both sides like a leather jerkin.
ACHILLES	Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.
THERSITES	Who, I? Why, he’ll answer nobody. He professes not answering. Speaking is for beggars. He wears his tongue in’s arms. I will put on his presence. Let Patroclus make demands to me. You shall see the pageant of Ajax.
ACHILLES	To him, Patroclus. Tell him I humbly desire 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-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon; et cetera. Do this.
PATROCLUS	(to Thersites) Jove bless great Ajax!
THERSITES	H’m.
PATROCLUS	I come from the worthy Achilles—
THERSITES	Ha?
PATROCLUS	Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent—
THERSITES	H’m!
PATROCLUS	And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon.
THERSITES	Agamemnon?
PATROCLUS	Ay, my lord.
THERSITES	Ha!
PATROCLUS	What say you to’t?
THERSITES	God b’wi’ you, with all my heart.
PATROCLUS	Your answer, sir?
THERSITES	If tomorrow be a fair day, by eleven o’clock it will go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.
PATROCLUS	Your answer, sir?
THERSITES	Fare ye well, with all my heart.
ACHILLES	Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
THERSITES	No, but he’s out o’ tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not. But I am feared none, unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.
ACHILLES	Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.
THERSITES	Let me carry another to his horse, for that’s the more capable creature.
ACHILLES	My mind is troubled like a fountain stirred, And I myself see not the bottom of it.
(didascalia)	Exit with Patroclus
THERSITES	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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Fanfara. Entrano Ulisse, Diomede, Nestore, Agamennone, Menelao, Aiace, e Calcante
CALCANTE	Ora, principi, per il servizio che v’ho reso, l’occasione del tempo m’induce ad alta voce a chiedere ricompensa. Vi torni alla mente che per la vista ch’io porto nelle cose a venire ho abbandonato Troia, lasciato il mio ufficio, incorso nel nome di traditore, e mi son esposto, da agi certi e posseduti, a fortune dubbie, sequestrandomi tutto ciò che il tempo, la conoscenza, l’uso e la condizione avevano reso mansueto e familiarissimo alla mia natura; e qui, per servirvi, son divenuto come nuovo al mondo, straniero, senza conoscenze. Vi supplico, a modo di saggio, di darmi ora un piccolo beneficio fra quei molti registrati in promessa che voi dite viventi a venire in mio favore.
AGAMENNONE	Che vuoi da noi, Troiano? Fa’ la tua domanda.
CALCANTE	Avete un prigioniero troiano chiamato Antenore, preso ieri. Troia lo tiene molto caro. Spesso avete—spesso ne abbiate grazie— desiderato la mia Cressida in ben grande scambio, che Troia ha sempre negata. Ma questo Antenore io so che è tale chiave nei loro affari che tutte le loro trattative dovranno allentarsi, mancando la sua guida, e quasi ci daranno un principe di sangue, un figlio di Priamo, in cambio di lui. Sia mandato, grandi principi, ed egli comprerà mia figlia, e la sua presenza cancellerà del tutto ogni servizio ch’io ho reso con fatica assai gradita.
AGAMENNONE	Diomede lo conduca, e ci porti qui Cressida; Calcante avrà ciò che chiede da noi. Buon Diomede, preparatevi degnamente per questo scambio; e portate insieme notizia se Ettore vorrà domani aver risposta alla sua sfida. Aiace è pronto.
DIOMEDE	Questo lo prenderò su di me, ed è un peso ch’io son fiero di portare. Esce con Calcante
(didascalia)	Entrano Achille e Patroclo nella loro tenda
ULISSE	Achille sta all’ingresso della sua tenda. Piaccia al nostro generale passargli accanto da estraneo, come se fosse dimenticato; e, principi tutti, posate su di lui uno sguardo negligente e distratto. Io verrò ultimo. È probabile che mi domandi perché occhi così poco plaudenti si volgano, perché rivolti su di lui. Se così, ho una derisione medicinale da porre fra la vostra estraneità e la sua superbia, che la sua stessa volontà avrà desiderio di bere. Può far bene. La Superbia non ha altro specchio per mostrarsi che la superbia; ché ginocchia flessibili nutrono l’arroganza e sono i tributi dell’uomo superbo.
AGAMENNONE	Eseguiremo il vostro disegno e assumeremo una forma d’estraneità passando oltre. Così faccia ogni signore, e o non lo salutino o lo salutino con disdegno, che lo scuoterà più del non esser guardato affatto. Io farò strada. Passano davanti alla tenda, uno dopo l’altro
ACHILLE	Come, viene il generale a parlare con me? Conoscete la mia intenzione: non combatterò più contro Troia.
AGAMENNONE	(a Nestore) Che dice Achille? Vuol qualcosa da noi?
NESTORE	(a Achille) Volete, mio signore, qualcosa dal generale?
ACHILLE	No.
NESTORE	(ad Agamennone) Nulla, mio signore.
AGAMENNONE	Tanto meglio.
(didascalia)	Escono Agamennone e Nestore
(didascalia)	ACHILLE a Menelao Buon giorno, buon giorno.
MENELAO	Come state? Come state?
(didascalia)	Esce
ACHILLE	(a Patroclo) Come, il cornuto mi schernisce?
AIACE	Ebbene, Patroclo?
ACHILLE	Buon giorno, Aiace.
AIACE	Eh?
ACHILLE	Buon giorno.
AIACE	Sì, e buon giorno anche il giorno dopo.
(didascalia)	Esce
ACHILLE	(a Patroclo) Che intendono costoro? Non conoscono Achille?
PATROCLO	Passano oltre da estranei. Solevano inchinarsi, mandare i loro sorrisi innanzi a sé verso Achille, venire umili come si suole strisciare verso i santi altari.
ACHILLE	Come, son io divenuto povero da poco? È certo, la grandezza, una volta in lite con la fortuna, dev’essere in lite anche con gli uomini. Ciò che il decaduto è egli lo leggerà negli occhi degli altri tanto presto quanto lo sentirà nella propria caduta; ché gli uomini, come farfalle, non mostrano le ali farinose che all’estate, e nessun uomo, per il solo essere uomo, ha alcun onore, ma onore per quegli onori che gli sono esterni—come rango, ricchezze e favore: premi del caso quanto del merito; i quali, quando cadono, essendo sostegni sdrucciolevoli— e l’amore che vi si appoggiava, altrettanto sdrucciolevole— l’uno trascina giù l’altro, e insieme muoiono nella caduta. Ma con me non è così. La fortuna e io siamo amici. Io godo in pieno tutto quel che possedevo, tranne gli sguardi di questi uomini—che, mi pare, scoprano in me qualcosa non degna d’un così ricco guardare come spesso m’han dato. Ecco Ulisse; gli interromperò la lettura. Ebbene, Ulisse?
ULISSE	Ebbene, gran figlio di Tetide.
ACHILLE	Che state leggendo?
ULISSE	Uno strano tale qui mi scrive che l’uomo, per quanto largamente dotato, per quanto ricco d’aver, fuori o dentro di sé, non può vantarsi d’avere quel che ha, né sente ciò che possiede, se non per riflesso— come quando le sue virtù, brillando sugli altri, li riscaldano, ed essi ritorcono quel calore ai primi donatori.
ACHILLE	Questo non è strano, Ulisse. La bellezza che si porta qui nel volto chi la porta non la conosce, ma essa si raccomanda agli occhi altrui. Né l’occhio stesso, quel purissimo spirito del senso, vede se stesso, non uscendo da sé; ma occhio contrapposto a occhio si salutano l’uno con la forma dell’altro. Ché la vista non torna a se stessa finché non ha viaggiato e non è specchiata là dove possa vedersi. Questo non è strano per nulla.
ULISSE	Non m’arresto sulla proposizione— è cosa nota—ma sull’intento dell’autore; il quale nel suo svolgimento prova espressamente che nessun uomo è signore di nulla, sebbene in lui e di lui vi sia molto, finché non comunichi le sue doti agli altri. Né da sé le conosce per qualcosa finché non le veda formate nell’applauso in cui si estendono—il quale, come un arco, ripercuote di nuovo la voce; o, come una porta d’acciaio rivolta al sole, riceve e rimanda la sua figura e il suo calore. Ero molto rapito in questo, e qui subito concepii l’ignoto Aiace. Cieli, che uomo è quello! Un vero cavallo, che ha non sa che cosa. Natura, che cose vi sono, abiettissime nella considerazione e care nell’uso. E che cose, ancora, carissime nella stima e povere di valore. Ora vedremo domani un atto che il puro caso gli getta addosso. Aiace famoso? O cieli, quel che certi uomini fanno, mentre altri tralasciano di fare. Come certi strisciano nella sala della capricciosa Fortuna mentre altri fanno gli idioti sotto i suoi occhi; come un uomo rode la superbia d’un altro mentre la superbia digiuna nella sua sfrenatezza. A vedere questi signori greci! Ebbene, già ora battono la spalla al goffo Aiace, come se il suo piede fosse sul petto del prode Ettore e la grande Troia si ritraesse.
ACHILLE	Lo credo, ché mi son passati accanto come gli avari accanto ai mendichi, né m’han dato buona parola né sguardo. Come, sono dimenticate le mie imprese?
ULISSE	Il Tempo ha, mio signore, una bisaccia sulla schiena, in cui mette elemosine per l’oblio, mostro di gran mole d’ingratitudini. Quegli avanzi sono le buone azioni passate, che sono divorate tanto presto quanto son fatte, dimenticate appena compiute. La perseveranza, mio caro signore, tiene lucido l’onore. Aver fatto è pendere affatto fuori moda, come una cotta rugginosa in monumentale derisione. Prendi la via immediata, ché l’onore viaggia in una gola così stretta che vi si passa uno solo alla volta. Tieni dunque il sentiero, ché l’emulazione ha mille figli che a uno a uno inseguono: se cedi il passo, o t’apparti dalla via diritta, come marea entrata tutti passano oltre e ti lasciano ultimo; o, come nobile cavallo caduto in prima fila, resti lì a far selciato per l’abietta retroguardia, travolto e calpestato. Allora quel che fanno nel presente, sebbene minore del tuo passato, dovrà sovrastare il tuo. Ché il Tempo è come un ospite alla moda, che stringe appena la mano all’ospite che parte e, con le braccia protese come volesse volare, afferra chi arriva. Il Benvenuto sempre sorride, e l’Addio se ne va sospirando. Oh, non cerchi la virtù ricompensa per ciò che fu; ché la bellezza, l’ingegno, l’alta nascita, il vigore delle ossa, il merito nel servizio, l’amore, l’amicizia, la carità, son tutti soggetti all’invidioso e calunniatore tempo. Un tocco di natura fa parente il mondo intero— sì che tutti d’un solo consenso lodano i gingilli appena nati, sebbene siano fatti e modellati di cose passate, e danno alla polvere un poco dorata più lode che all’oro coperto di polvere. L’occhio presente loda l’oggetto presente. Non ti stupire dunque, tu uomo grande e compiuto, che tutti i Greci comincino ad adorare Aiace, poiché le cose in movimento prendono l’occhio più presto di quel che non si muove. Il clamore fu un tempo per te, e ancora potrebbe esserlo, e ancora può esserlo di nuovo, se non volessi seppellirti vivo e chiudere in astuccio la tua fama nella tua tenda, le cui glorie in questi campi, non molto addietro, suscitarono missioni d’emulazione fra gli dèi stessi, e spinsero il grande Marte a prender parte.
ACHILLE	Di questo mio ritiro ho forti ragioni.
ULISSE	Ma contro il vostro ritiro le ragioni son più potenti ed eroiche. Si sa, Achille, che siete innamorato d’una delle figlie di Priamo.
ACHILLE	Eh? Si sa?
ULISSE	È una meraviglia? La provvidenza che è in uno stato vigile conosce quasi ogni grano dell’oro di Plutone, trova il fondo negli abissi incomprensibili, sta al passo con tutto, e quasi come gli dèi svela i pensieri infanti nelle loro mute cune. V’è un mistero, col quale il racconto non osò mai intromettersi, nell’anima dello stato, che ha un’operazione più divina di quanto fiato o penna possa esprimere. Tutto il commercio che avete avuto con Troia è nostro tanto perfettamente quanto vostro, mio signore; e molto meglio s’addirebbe ad Achille abbattere Ettore che Polissena. Ma dovrà dolere al giovane Pirro ora a casa, quando la fama nella sua isola suonerà la tromba e tutte le fanciulle greche danzando canteranno: ‘La sorella del grande Ettore la conquistò Achille, ma il nostro grande Aiace prodemente abbatté lui’. Addio, mio signore. Io parlo come vostro amico. Lo sciocco scivola sul ghiaccio che voi dovreste rompere. Esce
PATROCLO	A questo scopo, Achille, v’ho esortato. Una donna impudente e divenuta virile non è più detestata d’un uomo effeminato in tempo d’azione. Io sto condannato per questo. Credono che il mio poco appetito per la guerra e il vostro grande amore per me vi trattengano così. Dolce, destatevi, e il debole lascivo Cupido scioglierà dal vostro collo il suo amoroso abbraccio e come goccia di rugiada dalla criniera del leone sarà scosso nell’aria.
ACHILLE	Combatterà Aiace con Ettore?
PATROCLO	Sì, e forse ne riceverà molto onore.
ACHILLE	Vedo che la mia fama è in gioco. Il mio nome è malamente ferito.
PATROCLO	Oh, allora badate: guariscono male le ferite che gli uomini si dànno da sé. L’omettere ciò ch’è necessario sigilla una patente a un bianco di pericolo, e il pericolo, come una febbre, sottilmente infetta proprio quando ce ne stiamo oziosi al sole.
ACHILLE	Va’ a chiamar qui Tersite, dolce Patroclo. Manderò lo sciocco a Aiace, e lo pregherò d’invitare i signori troiani dopo il combattimento a vederci qui disarmati. Ho una brama di donna, un appetito di cui son malato, di vedere il grande Ettore nelle sue vesti di pace,
(didascalia)	Entra Tersite
ACHILLE	di parlare con lui e di contemplarne il volto fino a saziarmene la vista.—Fatica risparmiata.
TERSITE	Una meraviglia!
ACHILLE	Quale?
TERSITE	Aiace va su e giù per il campo, come se cercasse se stesso.
ACHILLE	E come?
TERSITE	Deve combattere domani a singolare con Ettore, ed è così profeticamente orgoglioso d’una bastonatura eroica che delira senza dire nulla.
ACHILLE	Come può essere?
TERSITE	Ebbene, va a spasso su e giù come un pavone—un passo e una posa; rumina come un’ostessa che non ha altra aritmetica che il proprio cervello per segnare il conto; si morde il labbro con aria politica, come per dire ‘Ci sarebbe ingegno in questa testa, se volesse uscire’—e infatti c’è; ma vi giace freddo come il fuoco nella pietra focaia, che non si mostra senza percussione. L’uomo è rovinato per sempre, ché se Ettore non gli rompe il collo nel combattimento, se lo romperà da sé per vanagloria. Non mi riconosce. Gli dissi: ‘Buon giorno, Aiace’, e lui risponde: ‘Grazie, Agamennone’. Che ne pensate d’un uomo che mi prende per il Generale? È diventato un vero pesce di terra, senza linguaggio, un mostro. Peste dell’opinione! Uno può portarla da entrambi i lati come un giubbetto di cuoio.
ACHILLE	Devi essere il mio ambasciatore presso di lui, Tersite.
TERSITE	Chi, io? Ma egli non risponde a nessuno. Professa il non rispondere. Il parlare è per i mendichi. Porta la lingua nelle braccia. Assumerò la sua persona. Patroclo mi rivolga domande. Vedrete la mascherata di Aiace.
ACHILLE	A lui, Patroclo. Digli che umilmente desidero che il valoroso Aiace inviti il valorosissimo Ettore a venire disarmato alla mia tenda, e che procuri un salvacondotto per la sua persona dal magnanimo e illustrissimo sei-o-sette-volte-onorato capitano generale dell’esercito greco, Agamennone; et cetera. Fa’ questo.
PATROCLO	(a Tersite) Giove benedica il grande Aiace!
TERSITE	Hm.
PATROCLO	Vengo dal degno Achille—
TERSITE	Eh?
PATROCLO	il quale umilissimamente vi prega d’invitare Ettore alla sua tenda—
TERSITE	Hm!
PATROCLO	E di procurare un salvacondotto da Agamennone.
TERSITE	Agamennone?
PATROCLO	Sì, mio signore.
TERSITE	Ah!
PATROCLO	Che ne dite?
TERSITE	Dio sia con voi, con tutto il cuore.
PATROCLO	La vostra risposta, signore?
TERSITE	Se domani sarà un bel giorno, entro le undici all’orologio andrà in un modo o nell’altro. Comunque sia, mi pagherà prima d’avermi.
PATROCLO	La vostra risposta, signore?
TERSITE	State bene, con tutto il cuore.
ACHILLE	Ma via, non è su questo tono, vero?
TERSITE	No, ma è scordato in questo modo. Che musica ci sarà in lui quando Ettore gli avrà cavato le cervella, non lo so. Ma temo nessuna, a meno che il violinista Apollo non prenda i suoi nervi per farne corde.
ACHILLE	Su, gli porterai subito una lettera.
TERSITE	Fatemene portare un’altra al suo cavallo, ché quella è la creatura più capace.
ACHILLE	La mia mente è turbata come una fonte agitata, e io stesso non ne vedo il fondo.
(didascalia)	Esce con Patroclo
TERSITE	Volesse il cielo che la fonte della vostra mente tornasse limpida, ché vi potessi abbeverare un asino. Preferirei essere una zecca in una pecora che una tale valorosa ignoranza. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter at one door Aeneas with a torch; at another Paris, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes the Grecian, with torch-bearers
PARIS	See, hol Who is that there?
DEIPHOBUS	It is the Lord Aeneas.
AENEAS	Is the Prince there in person? Had I so good occasion to lie long As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company.
DIOMEDES	That’s my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Aeneas.
PARIS	A valiant Greek, Aeneas, take his hand. Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told how Diomed e’en a whole week by days Did haunt you in the field.
AENEAS	(to Diomedes) Health to you, 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.
DIOMEDES	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.
AENEAS	And thou shalt hunt a lion that will fly With his face backward. In humane gentleness, Welcome to Troy. Now by Anchises’ 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.
DIOMEDES	We sympathize. Jove, let Aeneas 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.
AENEAS	We know each other well.
DIOMEDES	We do, and long to know each other worse.
PARIS	This is the most despitefull‘st gentle greeting, The noblest hateful love, that e’er I heard of. What business, lord, so early?
AENEAS	I was sent for to the King; but why, I know not.
PARIS	His purpose meets you: ’twas to bring this Greek To Calchas’ house, and there to render him, For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid. Let’s have your company, or if you please
(didascalia)	Haste there before us. Aside I constantly do think—
PARIS	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.
(didascalia)	AENEAS aside That I assure you.
PARIS	Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece Than Cressid borne from Troy.
(didascalia)	PARIS aside
PARIS	There is no help. The bitter disposition of the time Will have it so.
(didascalia)	Aloud On, lord, we’ll follow you.
AENEAS	Good morrow all.
(didascalia)	Exit
PARIS	And tell me, noble Diomed—faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship- Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen most, Myself or Menelaus?
DIOMEDES	Both alike. He merits well to have her that doth seek her, Not making any scruple of her soilure, With such a hell of pain and world of charge; And you as well to keep her that defend her, Not palating the taste of her dishonour, With such a costly loss of wealth and friends. He like a puling cuckold would drink up The lees and dregs of a flat ’tamed piece; You like a lecher out of whorish loins Are pleased to breed out your inheritors. Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more, But he as he: which heavier for a whore?
PARIS	You are too bitter to your countrywoman.
DIOMEDES	She’s bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris. For every false drop in her bawdy veins A Grecian’s life hath sunk; for every scruple Of her contaminated carrion weight A 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.
PARIS	Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do: Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy. But we in silence hold this virtue well: We’ll but commend what we intend to sell.— Here lies our way. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra da una porta Enea con una torcia; da un’altra Paride, Deifobo, Antenore, e Diomede il Greco, con portatori di torce
PARIDE	Guardate, ehil Chi è quello là?
DEIFOBO	È il signor Enea.
ENEA	È il Principe là in persona? Se avessi buona occasione d’indugiare a letto come voi, principe Paride, nulla se non affari celesti ruberebbe alla mia compagna di letto la mia compagnia.
DIOMEDE	Questo è anche il mio parere. Buon giorno, signor Enea.
PARIDE	Un valoroso Greco, Enea, prendetegli la mano. Ne fa testimonianza il corso del vostro discorso, in cui raccontaste come Diomede per una settimana intera, giorno per giorno, vi diede la caccia sul campo.
ENEA	(a Diomede) Salute a voi, valoroso signore, per tutta la durata della gentile tregua. Ma quando v’incontrerò in armi, sfida così nera quanto il cuore possa pensare o il coraggio eseguire.
DIOMEDE	L’una e l’altra cosa Diomede abbraccia. I nostri sangui sono ora in calma; e fin che dura, salute. Ma quando la contesa e l’occasione s’incontreranno, per Giove farò il cacciatore della tua vita con tutta la mia forza, il mio inseguimento e la mia astuzia.
ENEA	E tu darai la caccia a un leone che fuggirà col volto rivolto indietro. In umana gentilezza, benvenuto a Troia. Ora, per la vita d’Anchise, benvenuto davvero) Per la mano di Venere giuro che nessun uomo vivo può amare in tal modo, più eccellentemente, la cosa che intende uccidere.
DIOMEDE	Ci troviamo concordi. Giove, viva Enea— se il suo destino non è gloria della mia spada— mille interi corsi del sole; ma, per il mio onore emulo, muoia con ogni giuntura una ferita—e questo, domani.
ENEA	Ci conosciamo bene l’un l’altro.
DIOMEDE	È vero, e non aspettiamo che di conoscerci peggio.
PARIDE	Questo è il più dispettoso gentile saluto, il più nobile odioso amore, di cui mai udii. Quale affare, signore, così di buon’ora?
ENEA	Fui chiamato dal re; ma perché, non lo so.
PARIDE	Il suo intento vi viene incontro: era di condurre questo Greco alla casa di Calcante, e là consegnargli, in cambio d’Antenore liberato, la bella Cressida. Venite con noi, o se vi piace
(didascalia)	affrettatevi là prima di noi. A parte Costantemente penso—
PARIDE	o piuttosto, chiamate il mio pensiero certa conoscenza— che mio fratello Troilo alloggia là stanotte. Destatelo e avvisatelo del nostro avvicinarsi, con tutta la natura del perché. Temo che saremo assai malvenuti.
(didascalia)	ENEA a parte Di questo vi assicuro.
PARIDE	Troilo preferirebbe che Troia fosse portata in Grecia che Cressida portata via da Troia.
(didascalia)	PARIDE a parte
PARIDE	Non c’è rimedio. L’amara disposizione del tempo vuole così.
(didascalia)	Ad alta voce Avanti, signore, vi seguiremo.
ENEA	Buon giorno a tutti.
(didascalia)	Esce
PARIDE	E dimmi, nobile Diomede—in fede, dimmi il vero, proprio nell’anima della sana buona amicizia- chi, a tuo giudizio, merita più la bella Elena, io o Menelao?
DIOMEDE	Entrambi allo stesso modo. Ben merita d’averla chi la cerca, senza farsi scrupolo della sua macchia, con tale inferno di pena e mondo di spesa; e voi bene altrettanto a tenerla, voi che la difendete, senza sentire al palato il gusto del suo disonore, con così costosa perdita di ricchezze e d’amici. Egli, come un cornuto piagnucoloso, tracannerebbe la broda e la feccia d’un pezzo svaporato e domato; voi, come un libertino, da lombi di puttana vi compiacete di generare i vostri eredi. Pesati entrambi i meriti, ciascuno pesa né meno né più, ma l’uno come l’altro: chi più grave, per una puttana?
PARIDE	Siete troppo amaro con la vostra compatriota.
DIOMEDE	Ella è amara col suo paese. Ascoltatemi, Paride. Per ogni goccia falsa nelle sue vene lascive è affondata la vita d’un Greco; per ogni scrupolo del suo contaminato peso di carogna un Troiano è stato ucciso. Da quando sa parlare non ha dato fiato a tante buone parole quanti Greci e Troiani, per lei, hanno patito la morte.
PARIDE	Bel Diomede, voi fate come i mercanti: sparlate della cosa che desiderate comprare. Ma noi in silenzio teniamo bene questa virtù: loderemo soltanto ciò che intendiamo vendere.— Qui è la nostra via. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus and Cressida
TROILUS	Dear, trouble not yourself. The morn is cold.
CRESSIDA	Then, sweet my lord, I’ll call mine uncle down. He shall unbolt the gates.
TROILUS	Trouble him not. To bed, to bed! Sleep lull those pretty eyes And give as soft attachment to thy senses As to infants empty of all thought.
CRESSIDA	Good morrow, then.
TROILUS	I prithee now, to bed.
CRESSIDA	Are you aweary of me?
TROILUS	O Cressida! But that the busy day, Waked by the lark, hath roused the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee.
CRESSIDA	Night hath been too brief.
TROILUS	Beshrew the witch! With venomous wights she stays As hideously as hell, but flies the grasps of love With wings more momentary-swift than thought. You will catch cold and curse me.
CRESSIDA	Prithee, tarry. You men will never tarry. O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off, And then you would have tarried.—Hark, there’s one up.
(didascalia)	She veils herself
PANDARUS	(within) What’s all the doors open here?
TROILUS	It is your uncle.
CRESSIDA	A pestilence on him! Now will he be mocking. I shall have such a life.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
PANDARUS	How now, how now, how go maidenheads? (To Cressida) Here, you, maid! Where’s my cousin Cressid?
(didascalia)	CRESSIDA unveiling
PANDARUS	Go hang yourself. You naughty, mocking uncle! You bring me to do—and then you flout me too.
PANDARUS	To do what? To do what?—Let her say what.—What have I brought you to do?
CRESSIDA	Come, come, beshrew your heart. You’ll ne’er be good, Nor suffer others.
PINDARUS	Ha ha! Alas, poor wretch. Ah, poor capocchia, hast not slept tonight? Would he not—a naughty man—let it sleep? A bugbear take him.
CRESSIDA	(to Troilus) Did not I tell you? Would he were knocked i’th’ head.
(didascalia)	One knocks within
CRESSIDA	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.
TROILUS	Ha ha!
CRESSIDA	Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing. One knocks within How earnestly they knock! Pray you come in. I would not for half Troy have you seen here.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Troilus and Cressida
PANDARUS	Who’s there? What’s the matter? Will you beat down the door?
(didascalia)	He opens the door. Enter Aeneas
PANDARUS	How now, what’s the matter?
AENEAS	Good morrow, lord, good morrow.
PANDARUS	Who’s there? My Lord Aeneas? By my troth, I knew you not. What news with you so early?
AENEAS	Is not Prince Troilus here?
PANDARUS	Here? What should he do here?
AENEAS	Come, he is here, my lord. Do not deny him. It doth import him much to speak with me.
PANDARUS	Is he here, say you? It’s more than I know, I’ll be sworn. For my own part, I came in late. What should he do here?
AENEAS	Whoa! Nay, then. Come, come, you’ll do him wrong Ere you are ware. You’ll be so true to him To be false to him. Do not you know of him,
(didascalia)	But yet go fetch him hither. Go. Exit Pandarus
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
TROILUS	How now, what’s the matter?
AENEAS	My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, My matter is so rash. There is at hand Paris your brother and Deiphobus, The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor Delivered to us—and for him forthwith, Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, We must give up to Diomedes’ hand The Lady Cressida.
TROILUS	Is it so concluded?
AENEAS	By Priam and the general state of Troy. They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
TROILUS	How my achievements mock me. I will go meet them—and, my Lord Aeneas, We met by chance: you did not find me here.
AENEAS	Good, good, my lord: the secrecies of nature Have not more gift in taciturnity.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Troilo e Cressida
TROILO	Cara, non v’incomodate. Il mattino è freddo.
CRESSIDA	Allora, dolce mio signore, chiamerò giù mio zio. Egli tirerà i chiavistelli dei portoni.
TROILO	Non l’incomodate. A letto, a letto! Il Sonno culli quei belli occhi e dia ai tuoi sensi un abbandono tanto soave quanto ai bimbi vuoti d’ogni pensiero.
CRESSIDA	Buon giorno, allora.
TROILO	Ti prego ora, a letto.
CRESSIDA	Siete stanco di me?
TROILO	O Cressida! Se non fosse che l’operoso giorno, svegliato dall’allodola, ha destato i corvi sfacciati, e la notte sognante non nasconderà più le nostre gioie, non mi staccherei da te.
CRESSIDA	La Notte è stata troppo breve.
TROILO	Maledetta la strega! Con gli esseri velenosi indugia orribile come l’inferno, ma fugge le strette dell’amore con ali più istantaneamente rapide del pensiero. Prenderai freddo e mi maledirai.
CRESSIDA	Ti prego, resta. Voi uomini non restate mai. O sciocca Cressida! Avrei potuto tenermi ancora in ritegno, e allora tu saresti restato.—Udite, c’è qualcuno alzato.
(didascalia)	Si vela
PANDARO	(da dentro) Come, tutte le porte aperte qui?
TROILO	È vostro zio.
CRESSIDA	Una pestilenza su di lui! Ora si metterà a beffare. Che vita mi toccherà.
(didascalia)	Entra Pandaro
PANDARO	Ebbene, ebbene, come vanno le verginità? (A Cressida) Ehi, tu, ragazza! Dov’è mia cugina Cressida?
(didascalia)	CRESSIDA togliendosi il velo
PANDARO	Andate a impiccarvi. Zio cattivo e beffardo! Voi m’inducete a fare—e poi mi scornate anche.
PANDARO	A fare che? A fare che?—Che dica lei che cosa.—A che cosa v’ho indotta?
CRESSIDA	Via, via, maledetto il vostro cuore. Non sarete mai buono, né lo permetterete agli altri.
PINDARUS	Ah ah! Ahimè, povera sventurata. Ah, povera capocchia, non hai dormito stanotte? Non t’ha voluta—cattivo uomo—lasciar dormire? Se lo porti via un babau.
CRESSIDA	(a Troilo) Non ve l’avevo detto? Vorrei che gli spaccassero la testa.
(didascalia)	Si batte dentro
CRESSIDA	Chi è alla porta?—Buon zio, andate a vedere.— Mio signore, rientrate nella mia camera. Sorridete e mi beffate, come se intendessi malizia.
TROILO	Ah ah!
CRESSIDA	Via, v’ingannate, non penso a nulla di ciò. Si batte dentro Con che insistenza battono! Vi prego, entrate. Non vorrei per mezza Troia che vi si vedesse qui.
(didascalia)	Escono Troilo e Cressida
PANDARO	Chi è là? Che c’è? Volete sfondare la porta?
(didascalia)	Apre la porta. Entra Enea
PANDARO	Ebbene, che c’è?
ENEA	Buon giorno, signore, buon giorno.
PANDARO	Chi è là? Il mio signor Enea? Sulla mia fede, non vi riconoscevo. Che nuove portate così di buon’ora?
ENEA	Non è qui il principe Troilo?
PANDARO	Qui? Che dovrebbe farci qui?
ENEA	Suvvia, è qui, mio signore. Non negatelo. Molto gl’importa parlare con me.
PANDARO	È qui, dite? È più di quanto io sappia, lo giurerei. Per parte mia, son rientrato tardi. Che dovrebbe farci qui?
ENEA	Oh là! No, dunque. Via, via, gli farete torto prima d’accorgervene. Gli sarete fedele tanto da essergli infedele. Non sappiate nulla di lui,
(didascalia)	ma andate pure a chiamarlo qui. Andate. Esce Pandaro
(didascalia)	Entra Troilo
TROILO	Ebbene, che c’è?
ENEA	Mio signore, ho appena il tempo di salutarvi, tanto è precipitosa la mia faccenda. Sono qui presso Paride vostro fratello e Deifobo, il greco Diomede, e il nostro Antenore consegnato a noi—e per lui, subito, prima del primo sacrificio, entro quest’ora, dobbiamo cedere alla mano di Diomede la signora Cressida.
TROILO	È così concluso?
ENEA	Da Priamo e dal consiglio generale di Troia. Sono qui presso, e pronti a eseguirlo.
TROILO	Come le mie conquiste mi scherniscono. Andrò a incontrarli—e, mio signor Enea, c’incontrammo per caso: voi non mi trovaste qui.
ENEA	Bene, bene, mio signore: i segreti della natura non hanno maggior dono di taciturnità.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus and Cressida
PANDARUS	Is’t possible? No sooner got but lost. The devil take Antenor! The young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke’s neck.
CRESSIDA	How now? What’s the matter? Who was here?
PANDARUS	Ah, ah!
CRESSIDA	Why sigh you so profoundly? Where’s my lord? Gone? Tell me, sweet uncle, what’s the matter?
PANDARUS	Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above.
CRESSIDA	O the gods! What’s the matter?
PANDARUS	Pray thee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne’er been born. I knew thou wouldst be his death. O poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor!
CRESSIDA	Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees; I beseech you, what’s the matter?
PANDARUS	Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone. Thou art changed for Antenor. Thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus. ‘Twill be his death. ’Twill be his bane. He cannot bear it.
CRESSIDA	O you immortal gods! I will not go.
PANDARUS	Thou must.
CRESSIDA	I will not, uncle. I have forgot my father. I know no touch of consanguinity, No kin, no love, no blood, no soul, so near me As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine, Make Cressid’s name the very crown of falsehood If ever she leave Troilus. Time, force, and death Do to this body what extremity you can, But the strong base and building of my love Is as the very centre of the earth, Drawing all things to it. I’ll go in and weep—
PANDARUS	Do, do.
CRESSIDA	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Pandaro e Cressida
PANDARO	È possibile? Appena ottenuta, ed ecco perduta. Il diavolo si porti Antenore! Il giovane principe diverrà pazzo. La peste su Antenore! Vorrei che gli avessero rotto il collo.
CRESSIDA	Ebbene? Che c’è? Chi era qui?
PANDARO	Ah, ah!
CRESSIDA	Perché sospirate così profondamente? Dov’è il mio signore? Partito? Dimmi, dolce zio, che c’è?
PANDARO	Vorrei essere tanto profondo sotto terra quanto sono sopra.
CRESSIDA	O dèi! Che c’è?
PANDARO	Ti prego, rientra. Volesse il cielo che non fossi mai nata. Sapevo che sarebbi stata la sua morte. O povero gentiluomo! La peste su Antenore!
CRESSIDA	Buon zio, vi supplico in ginocchio; vi supplico, che c’è?
PANDARO	Devi andare, ragazza, devi andare. Sei scambiata con Antenore. Devi andare da tuo padre, e allontanarti da Troilo. Sarà la sua morte. Sarà la sua rovina. Non lo può sopportare.
CRESSIDA	O dèi immortali! Non andrò.
PANDARO	Devi.
CRESSIDA	Non andrò, zio. Ho dimenticato mio padre. Non conosco alcun tocco di consanguineità, nessun parente, nessun amore, nessun sangue, nessuna anima tanto vicina a me quanto il dolce Troilo. O dèi divini, fate del nome di Cressida la corona stessa della falsità s’ella mai lascerà Troilo. Tempo, violenza, e morte, fate a questo corpo ogni estremo che potete, ma la salda base e l’edificio del mio amore è come il centro stesso della terra, che attira a sé tutte le cose. Rientrerò a piangere—
PANDARO	Fa’, fa’.
CRESSIDA	a strapparmi i lucenti capelli, a graffiarmi le guance lodate, a spezzare con i singhiozzi la mia voce chiara, e a rompermi il cuore gridando ‘Troilo’. Non partirò da Troia.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Paris, Troilus, Aeneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes
PARIS	It is great morning, and the hour prefixed Of her delivery to this valiant Greek Comes fast upon us. Good my brother Troilus, Tell you the lady what she is to do, And haste her to the purpose.
TROILUS	Walk into her house. I’ll bring her to the Grecian presently— And to his hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus A priest, there off’ring to it his own heart.
PARIS	I know what ’tis to love, And would, as I shall pity, I could help.—
(didascalia)	Please you walk in, my lords? Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Paride, Troilo, Enea, Deifobo, Antenore, e Diomede
PARIDE	È giorno pieno, e l’ora prefissa della sua consegna a questo valoroso Greco ci viene addosso rapida. Mio buon fratello Troilo, dite voi alla signora ciò che deve fare, e affrettatela al proposito.
TROILO	Entrate nella sua casa. La condurrò subito al Greco— e quando la consegnerò alla sua mano, pensa che sia un altare, e tuo fratello Troilo un sacerdote, che vi offre il proprio cuore.
PARIDE	Io so che cosa sia amare, e vorrei, come ne avrò pietà, poter dare aiuto.—
(didascalia)	Vi piaccia entrare, miei signori? Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus and Cressida
PANDARUS	Be moderate, be moderate.
CRESSIDA	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
PANDARUS	Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks!
CRESSIDA	(embracing him) O Troilus, Troilus!
PANDARUS	What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace you too. ‘O heart‘, as the goodly saying is, ‘O heart, heavy heart, Why sigh’st 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?
TROILUS	Cressid, I love thee in so strained a purity That the blest gods, as angry with my fancy— More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities—take thee from me.
CRESSIDA	Have the gods envy?
PANDARUS	Ay, ay, ay, ay, ’tis too plain a case.
CRESSIDA	And is it true that I must go from Troy?
TROILUS	A hateful truth.
CRESSIDA	What, and from Troilus too?
TROILUS	From Troy and Troilus.
CRESSIDA	Is’t possible?
TROILUS	And suddenty—where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, jostles roughly by All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents Our locked embrasures, strangles our dear vows Even in the birth of our own labouring breath. We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one. Injurious Time now with a robber’s haste Crams his rich thiev’ry 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 loose adieu And scants us with a single famished kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas
AENEAS	My lord, is the lady ready?
TROILUS	(to Cressida) Hark, you are called. Some say the genius so Cries ‘Come!’ to him that instantly must die.
(didascalia)	To Pandarus Bid them have patience. She shall come
TROILUS	anon.
PANDARUS	Where are my tears? Rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root.
(didascalia)	Exit with Aeneas
CRESSIDA	I must then to the Grecians.
TROILUS	No remedy.
CRESSIDA	A woeful Cressid ’mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?
TROILUS	Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart—
CRESSIDA	I true? How now! What wicked deem is this?
TROILUS	Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us. I speak not ‘Be thou true’ as fearing thee— For I will throw my glove to Death himself That there’s no maculation in thy heart— But ‘Be thou true’ say I, to fashion in My sequent protestation: ‘Be thou true, And I will see thee’.
CRESSIDA	O you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent. But I’ll be true.
TROILUS	And I’ll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
CRESSIDA	And you this glove. When shall I see you?
TROILUS	I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels To give thee nightly visitation. But yet, be true.
CRESSIDA	O heavens! ’Be true’ again!
TROILUS	Hear why I speak it, love. The Grecian youths are full of quality, Their 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 afeard.
CRESSIDA	O heavens, you love me not!
TROILUS	Die I a villain then! In this I do not call your faith in question So mainly as my merit. I cannot sing, Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, Nor play at subtle games—fair virtues all, To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant. But I can tell that in each grace of these There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted.
CRESSIDA	Do you think I will?
TROILUS	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.
AENEAS	(within) Nay, good my lord!
TROILUS	Come, kiss, and let us part.
(didascalia)	PARIS art the door
TROILUS	Brother Troilus?
TROILUS	Good brother, come you hither, And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you.
(didascalia)	Exit Paris
CRESSIDA	My lord, will you be true?
TROILUS	Who, I? Alas, it is my vice, my fault. Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
(didascalia)	Enter Paris, Aeneas, Antenor, Deiphobus, and Diomedes
TROILUS	Fear not my truth. The moral of my wit Is ‘plain and true!’; there’s all the reach of it.— Welcome, Sir Diomed. Here is the lady Which for Antenor we deliver you. At the port, lord, I’ll give her to thy hand, And by the way possess thee what she is. Entreat her fair, and by my soul, fair Greek, If e’er thou stand at mercy of my sword, Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe As Priam is in Ilium.
DIOMEDES	Fair Lady Cressid, So please you, save the thanks this prince expects. The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
TROILUS	Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously, To shame the zeal of my petition towards 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.
DIOMEDES	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’t so’, I’ll speak it in my spirit and honour ‘No!’
TROILUS	Come, to the port.—I’ll tell thee, Diomed, This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.— Lady, give me your hand, and as we walk To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Troilus, Cressida, and Diomedes
TROILUS	A trumpet sounds
PARIS	Hark, Hector’s trumpet.
AENEAS	How have we spent this morning? The Prince must think me tardy and remiss, That swore to ride before him in the field.
PARIS	‘Tis Troilus’ fault. Come, come to field with him.
DEIPHOBUS	Let us make ready straight.
AENEAS	Yea, with a bridegroom’s fresh alacrity Let us address to tend on Hector’s heels. The glory of our Troy doth this day lie On his fair worth and single chivalry. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Pandaro e Cressida
PANDARO	Siate moderata, siate moderata.
CRESSIDA	Perché mi parlate di moderazione? Il dolore che gusto è puro, pieno, perfetto, e si fa violento in un senso tanto forte quanto quello che lo causa. Come posso moderarlo? Se potessi temporeggiare col mio affetto o stemperarlo per un palato debole e più freddo, simile attenuazione potrei dare al mio dolore. Il mio amore non ammette scoria che lo tempri; né il mio dolore, in una perdita così preziosa.
(didascalia)	Entra Troilo
PANDARO	Qui, qui, ecco che viene. Ah, dolci anatrelle!
CRESSIDA	(abbracciandolo) O Troilo, Troilo!
PANDARO	Che paio di spettacoli è questo! Lasciate ch’io abbracci anche voi. ‘O cuore’, come dice il bel detto, ‘O cuore, cuore grave, perché sospiri senza spezzarti?’ dove egli risponde ancora ‘Perché non puoi alleviare la tua pena né con l’amicizia né col parlare.’ Non ci fu mai rima più vera. Non buttiamo via nulla, ché potremmo vivere fino ad aver bisogno d’un tal verso. Lo vediamo, lo vediamo. Ebbene, agnellini?
TROILO	Cressida, io t’amo con purezza così filtrata che i beati dèi, come sdegnati del mio affetto— più splendente di zelo della devozione che labbra fredde soffiano alle loro deità—ti togliono a me.
CRESSIDA	Hanno invidia gli dèi?
PANDARO	Sì, sì, sì, sì, è un caso troppo chiaro.
CRESSIDA	Ed è vero che devo partire da Troia?
TROILO	Un’odiosa verità.
CRESSIDA	Come, e anche da Troilo?
TROILO	Da Troia e da Troilo.
CRESSIDA	È possibile?
TROILO	E subitamente—dove l’ingiuria del caso respinge il commiato, urta via ruvidamente ogni tempo d’indugio, rozzamente froda le nostre labbra d’ogni ricongiungimento, con violenza impedisce i nostri stretti abbracci, strangola i nostri cari voti proprio nel nascere del nostro affannoso respiro. Noi due, che con tante migliaia di sospiri ci comprammo l’un l’altra, dobbiamo poveramente venderci con la rozza brevità e lo sfogo d’uno solo. L’ingiurioso Tempo ora, con fretta di ladro, stipa il suo ricco furto, non sa come. Tanti addii quante sono le stelle in cielo, con distinto respiro e baci a ciascuno assegnati, li accozza in un addio slegato e ci lesina un solo bacio affamato, guastato dal sale di lacrime rotte.
(didascalia)	Entra Enea
ENEA	Mio signore, è pronta la signora?
TROILO	(a Cressida) Udite, siete chiamata. Alcuni dicono che così il genio grida ‘Vieni!’ a chi deve morire all’istante.
(didascalia)	A Pandaro Di’ loro d’aver pazienza. Verrà
TROILO	or ora.
PANDARO	Dove sono le mie lacrime? Piovi, per placare questo vento, o il mio cuore sarà sradicato dal soffio.
(didascalia)	Esce con Enea
CRESSIDA	Devo dunque andare dai Greci.
TROILO	Nessun rimedio.
CRESSIDA	Una dolente Cressida fra gli allegri Greci! Quando ci rivedremo?
TROILO	Ascoltami, amore mio: sii solo fedele di cuore—
CRESSIDA	Io fedele? Ebbene! Che malvagio sospetto è questo?
TROILO	No, dobbiamo usare gentilmente le rimostranze, ché essa si sta separando da noi. Non dico ‘Sii fedele’ perché ti tema— ché getterei il mio guanto alla Morte stessa a provare che non v’è macchia nel tuo cuore— ma dico ‘Sii fedele’ per introdurvi la mia protesta seguente: ‘Sii fedele, e io ti rivedrò’.
CRESSIDA	Oh, sarete esposto, mio signore, a pericoli tanto infiniti quanto imminenti. Ma io sarò fedele.
TROILO	E io mi farò amico del pericolo. Porta questa manica.
CRESSIDA	E voi questo guanto. Quando vi vedrò?
TROILO	Corromperò le sentinelle greche per farti visita ogni notte. Ma pure, sii fedele.
CRESSIDA	O cieli! Ancora ‘sii fedele’!
TROILO	Ascolta perché lo dico, amore. I giovani greci son pieni di qualità, il loro amare ben composto, ricco di doni di natura fluenti, e traboccante d’arti e d’esercizio. Quanto possa la novità, e le doti unite alla persona, ahimè, una specie di pia gelosia— che vi supplico di chiamare un peccato virtuoso— mi fa paura.
CRESSIDA	O cieli, voi non m’amate!
TROILO	Ch’io muoia scellerato, allora! In questo non metto in questione la vostra fede tanto quanto il mio merito. Io non so cantare, né danzare l’alta lavolta, né addolcire il discorso, né giocare a giochi sottili—belle virtù tutte, alle quali i Greci sono prontissimi e disposti. Ma io posso dire che in ciascuna di queste grazie s’annida un diavolo silenzioso e muto-eloquente che tenta con grande astuzia. Ma tu non lasciarti tentare.
CRESSIDA	Credete che lo farò?
TROILO	No, ma può farsi qualcosa che non vogliamo, e a volte siamo diavoli a noi stessi, quando vogliamo tentare la fragilità delle nostre facoltà, presumendo della loro mutevole potenza.
ENEA	(da dentro) Su, mio buon signore!
TROILO	Vieni, baciami, e separiamoci.
(didascalia)	PARIDE alla porta
TROILO	Fratello Troilo?
TROILO	Buon fratello, venite qui, e portate con voi Enea e il Greco.
(didascalia)	Esce Paride
CRESSIDA	Mio signore, sarete fedele?
TROILO	Chi, io? Ahimè, è il mio vizio, la mia colpa. Mentre altri pescano con astuzia grande fama, io con grande verità pesco mera semplicità; mentre alcuni con arte indorano le loro corone di rame, con verità e semplicità io porto la mia nuda.
(didascalia)	Entrano Paride, Enea, Antenore, Deifobo, e Diomede
TROILO	Non temere la mia fedeltà. La morale del mio ingegno è ‘semplice e vero!’; tutta qui è la sua portata.— Benvenuto, messer Diomede. Ecco la signora che in cambio d’Antenore vi consegniamo. Alla porta, signore, la darò nella tua mano, e per via ti farò sapere chi ella è. Trattala bene, e per la mia anima, bel Greco, se mai starai alla mercé della mia spada, nomina Cressida, e la tua vita sarà tanto sicura quanto Priamo in Ilio.
DIOMEDE	Bella signora Cressida, con vostra licenza, risparmiate i ringraziamenti che questo principe s’attende. Lo splendore nel vostro occhio, il cielo nella vostra guancia, perorano il vostro buon trattamento; e di Diomede sarete padrona, e lo comanderete interamente.
TROILO	Greco, tu non mi tratti cortesemente, svergognando lo zelo della mia preghiera verso te col lodarla. Ti dico, signore di Grecia, ella vola tanto più alta delle tue lodi quanto tu sei indegno d’esser chiamato suo servo. Ti comando di trattarla bene, per il mio comando stesso; ché, per il tremendo Plutone, se non lo farai, sebbene la gran mole d’Achille ti faccia guardia ti taglierò la gola.
DIOMEDE	Oh, non v’adirate, principe Troilo. Sia mio privilegio, per il mio ufficio e messaggio, d’essere libero parlatore. Quando sarò via di qui risponderò al mio piacere. E sappiate, signore, che nulla farò per comando. Secondo il suo proprio merito sarà pregiata; ma poiché voi dite ‘Sia così’, io lo dico nel mio spirito e nel mio onore: ‘No!’
TROILO	Su, alla porta.—Ti dico, Diomede, questa bravata ti farà spesso nascondere il capo.— Signora, datemi la mano, e mentre camminiamo volgiamo a noi stessi il nostro necessario discorso.
(didascalia)	Escono Troilo, Cressida, e Diomede
TROILO	Una tromba suona
PARIDE	Udite, la tromba d’Ettore.
ENEA	Come abbiamo speso questa mattina? Il Principe mi crederà tardo e negligente, io che giurai di cavalcare innanzi a lui sul campo.
PARIDE	È colpa di Troilo. Su, venite al campo con lui.
DEIFOBO	Prepariamoci subito.
ENEA	Sì, con la fresca alacrità d’uno sposo accingiamoci a seguire i calcagni d’Ettore. La gloria della nostra Troia oggi riposa sul suo bel valore e sulla sua sola cavalleria. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ajax armed, Achilles, Patroclus, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor, a trumpeter, and others
AGAMEMNON	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 appallèd air May pierce the head of the great combatant And hale him hither.
AJAX	Thou trumpet, there’s my purse. He gives him money Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe. Blow, villain, till thy spherèd bias cheek Outswell the colic of puffed Aquilon. Come, stretch thy chest and let thy eyes spout blood; Thou blow’st for Hector.
(didascalia)	The trumpet sounds
ULYSSES	No trumpet answers.
ACHILLES	’Tis but early days.
AGAMEMNON	Is not yond Diomed with Calchas’ daughter?
ULYSSES	’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.
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes and Cressida
AGAMEMNON	(to Diomedes) Is this the Lady Cressid?
DIOMEDES	Even she.
AGAMEMNON	Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady. He kisses her
NESTOR	(to Cressida) Our General doth salute you with a kiss.
ULYSSES	Yet is the kindness but particular; ’Twere better she were kissed in general.
NESTOR	And very courtly counsel. I’ll begin. He kisses her So much for Nestor.
ACHILLES	I’ll take that winter from your lips, fair lady. He kisses her Achilles bids you welcome.
MENELAUS	(to Cressida) I had good argument for kissing once.
PATROCLUS	But that’s no argument for kissing now;
(didascalia)	For thus stepping between them popped Paris in his
PATROCLUS	hardiment, And parted thus you and your argument. He kisses her
(didascalia)	ULYSSES aside
PATROCLUS	O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns! For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.
PATROCLUS	(to Cressida) The first was Menelaus’ kiss; this, mine. Patroclus kisses you. He kisses her again
MENELAUS	O this is trim.
PATROCLUS	(to Cressida) Paris and I kiss evermore for him.
MENELAUS	I’ll have my kiss, sir.—Lady, by your leave.
CRESSIDA	In kissing do you render or receive?
(didascalia)	MENELAUS
CRESSIDA	Both take and give.
CRESSIDA	I’ll make my match to live, The kiss you take is better than you give. Therefore no kiss.
MENELAUS	I’ll give you boot: I’ll give you three for one.
CRESSIDA	You are an odd man: give even or give none.
MENELAUS	An odd man, lady? Every man is odd.
CRESSIDA	No, Paris is not—for you know ’tis true That you are odd, and he is even with you.
MENELAUS	You fillip me o’th’ head.
CRESSIDA	No, I’ll be sworn.
ULYSSES	It were no match, your nail against his horn. May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?
CRESSIDA	You may.
ULYSSES	I do desire it.
CRESSIDA	Why, beg too.
ULYSSES	Why then, for Venus’ sake, give me a kiss, When Helen is a maid again, and his—
CRESSIDA	I am your debtor; claim it when ’tis due.
ULYSSES	Never’s my day, and then a kiss of you.
DIOMEDES	Lady, a word. I’ll bring you to your father.
(didascalia)	They talk apart
NESTOR	A woman of quick sense.
ULYSSES	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. O these encounterers so glib of tongue, That give accosting welcome ere 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Diomedes and Cressida
(didascalia)	Flourish
ALL	The Trojans’ trumpet.
(didascalia)	Enter all off Troy: Hector armed, Paris, Aeneas, Helenus, and attendants, among them Troilus
AGAMEMNON	Yonder comes the troop.
(didascalia)	AENEAS coming forward
AGAMEMNON	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 they be divided By any voice or order of the field? Hector bade ask.
AGAMEMNON	Which way would Hector have it?
AENEAS	He cares not; he’ll obey conditions.
(didascalia)	ACHILLES
AENEAS	’Tis done like Hector—but securely done, A little proudly, and great deal disprising The knight opposed.
AENEAS	If not Achilles, sir, What is your name?
ACHILLES	If not Achilles, nothing.
AENEAS	Therefore Achilles. But whate’er, know this: In the extremity of great and little, Valour 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 Ajax is half made of Hector’s blood, In love whereof half Hector stays at home. Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.
ACHILLES	A maiden battle, then? O I perceive you.
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes
AGAMEMNON	Here is Sir Diomed.—Go, gentle knight, Stand by our Ajax. As you and Lord Aeneas Consent upon the order of their fight, So be it: either to the uttermost Or else a breath.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Ajax, Diomedes, Hector, and Aeneas
AGAMEMNON	The combatants being kin Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. ULYSSES They are opposed already.
AGAMEMNON	What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?
ULYSSES	The youngest son of Priam, a true knight: They call him Troilus. 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 judgement guide his bounty, Nor dignifies an impare 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 Aeneas, one that knows the youth Even to his inches, and with private soul Did in great Ilium thus translate him to me.
(didascalia)	Alarum
AGAMEMNON	They are in action.
NESTOR	Now, Ajax, hold thine own!
TROILUS	Hector, thou steep’st! Awake thee!
(didascalia)	His blows are well disposed. There, Ajax! Exeunt
(didascalia)	4.7 Enter Hector and Ajax fighting, and Aeneas and
(didascalia)	Diomedes interposing. Trumpets cease
DIOMEDES	You must no more.
AENEAS	Princes, enough, so please you.
AJAX	I am not warm yet. Let us fight again.
DIOMEDES	As Hector pleases.
HECTOR	Why then will I no 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 commixtion Greek and Trojan so That thou couldst say ’This hand is Grecian all, 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 father‘s,’ 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 drop thou borrowed’st from thy mother, My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword Be drained. Let me embrace thee, Ajax. By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms. Hector would have them fall upon him thus. Cousin, all honour to thee.
AJAX	I thank thee, Hector. Thou art too gentle and too free a man. I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence A great addition earned in thy death.
HECTOR	Not Neoptolemus so mirable, On whose bright crest Fame with her loud‘st oyez Cries ’This is he!’, could promise to himself A thought of added honour torn from Hector.
AENEAS	There is expectance here from both the sides What further you will do.
HECTOR	We’ll answer it: The issue is embracement.—Ajax, farewell.
AJAX	If I might in entreaties find success, As seld I have the chance, I would desire My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.
DIOMEDES	’Tis Agamemnon’s wish—and great Achilles Doth long to see unarmed the valiant Hector.
HECTOR	Aeneas, call my brother Troilus to me, And signify this loving interview To the expecters of our Trojan part.
(didascalia)	Desire them home. Exit Aeneas
HECTOR	Give me thy hand, my cousin. I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.
(didascalia)	Enter Agamemnon and the rest: Aeneas, Ulysses,
HECTOR	Menelaus, Nestor, Achilles, Patroclus, Troilus, and others
AJAX	Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
HECTOR	(to Aeneas) 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.
AGAMEMNON	(embracing him) 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 strewed with husks And formless ruin of oblivion, But in this extant moment faith and troth, Strained purely from all hollow bias-drawing, Bids thee with most divine integrity From heart of very heart, ‘Great Hector, welcome!’
HECTOR	I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.
(didascalia)	AGAMEMNON to Troilus
HECTOR	My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.
MENELAUS	Let me confirm my princely brother’s greeting. You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
(didascalia)	He embraces Hector and Troilus
HECTOR	(to Aeneas) Who must we answer?
AENEAS	The noble Menelaus.
HECTOR	O, you, my lord! By Mars his gauntlet, thanks. Mock not that I affect th’untraded oath. Your quondam wife swears still by Venus’ glove. She’s well, but bade me not commend her to you.
MENELAUS	Name her not now, sir. She’s a deadly theme.
HECTOR	O, pardon. I offend.
NESTOR	I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way Through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have seen thee As hot as Perseus spur thy Phrygian steed, And seen thee scorning forfeits and subduements, When thou hast hung th‘advancèd sword i’th’ air, Not letting it decline on the declined, That I have said unto my standers-by, ‘Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life’. And 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 grandsire And once fought with him. He was a soldier good, But—by great Mars, the captain of us all— Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee; And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. He embraces Hector
AENEAS	(to Hector) ’Tis the old Nestor.
HECTOR	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.
NESTOR	I would my arms could match thee in contention As they contend with thee in courtesy.
HECTOR	I would they could.
NESTOR	Ha! By this white beard I’d fight with thee tomorrow. Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time.
ULYSSES	I wonder now how yonder city stands When we have here her base and pillar by us?
HECTOR	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 Ilium on your Greekish embassy.
ULYSSES	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 towers whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
HECTOR	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.
ULYSSES	So to him we leave it. Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome.
(didascalia)	He embraces him
ULYSSES	After the General, I beseech you next To feast with me and see me at my tent.
(didascalia)	I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses. To Hector Thou!
ACHILLES	Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee. I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint.
HECTOR	Is this Achilles?
ACHILLES	I am Achilles.
HECTOR	Stand fair, I pray thee, let me look on thee.
ACHILLES	Behold thy fill.
HECTOR	Nay, I have done already.
ACHILLES	Thou art too brief. I will the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
HECTOR	O, like a book of sport thou‘lt read me o’er. But there’s more in me than thou understand’st. Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?
ACHILLES	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 whereout Hector’s great spirit flew? Answer me, heavens.
HECTOR	It would discredit the blest gods, proud man, To answer such a question. Stand again. Think’st thou to catch my life so pleasantly As to prenominate in nice conjecture Where thou wilt hit me dead?
ACHILLES	I tell thee, yea.
HECTOR	Wert thou the 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 stithied Mars his 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 endeavour deeds to match these words, Or may I never—
AJAX	Do not chafe thee, cousin.— And you, Achilles, let these threats alone, Till accident or purpose bring you to’t. 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.
HECTOR	(to Achilles) I pray you, let us see you in the field. We have had pelting wars since you refused The Grecians’ cause.
ACHILLES	Dost thou entreat me, Hector? Tomorrow do I meet thee, fell as death; Tonight, all friends.
HECTOR	Thy hand upon that match.
AGAMEMNON	First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent. There in the full convive you. Afterwards, As Hector’s leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat him. Beat loud the taborins, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt all but Troilus and Ulysses
TROILUS	My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
ULYSSES	At Menelaus’ tent, most princely Troilus. There Diomed doth feast with him tonight— Who neither looks on heaven nor on earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid.
TROILUS	Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon’s tent, To bring me thither?
ULYSSES	You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there That wails her absence?
TROILUS	O sir, to such as boasting show their scars A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? She was beloved, she loved; she is, and doth. But still sweet love is food for fortune’s tooth. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Aiace armato, Achille, Patroclo, Agamennone, Menelao, Ulisse, Nestore, un trombettiere, e altri
AGAMENNONE	Qui tu stai in armi fresco e bello, anticipando il tempo con coraggio impaziente. Da’ con la tua tromba una nota alta a Troia, tu terribile Aiace, sì che l’aria spaventata possa trafiggere il capo del grande combattente e trascinarlo qui.
AIACE	Tu, trombettiere, ecco la mia borsa. Gli dà del denaro Ora schianta i tuoi polmoni e spacca la tua canna di bronzo. Soffia, furfante, finché la tua guancia gonfia e sferica non superi la colica del gonfio Aquilone. Su, tendi il petto e lascia che i tuoi occhi schizzino sangue; tu soffi per Ettore.
(didascalia)	La tromba suona
ULISSE	Nessuna tromba risponde.
ACHILLE	È ancora presto.
AGAMENNONE	Non è quello là Diomede con la figlia di Calcante?
ULISSE	È lui. Riconosco il modo del suo passo. Si alza sulla punta: quel suo spirito nell’aspirazione lo solleva da terra.
(didascalia)	Entrano Diomede e Cressida
AGAMENNONE	(a Diomede) È questa la signora Cressida?
DIOMEDE	Lei appunto.
AGAMENNONE	Carissima benvenuta fra i Greci, dolce signora. La bacia
NESTORE	(a Cressida) Il nostro Generale vi saluta con un bacio.
ULISSE	Pur la cortesia è solo particolare; meglio sarebbe che fosse baciata in generale.
NESTORE	E consiglio molto cortigiano. Comincerò io. La bacia Questo per Nestore.
ACHILLE	Toglierò quell’inverno dalle vostre labbra, bella signora. La bacia Achille vi dà il benvenuto.
MENELAO	(a Cressida) Un tempo avevo buon argomento per baciare.
PATROCLO	Ma quello non è argomento per baciare ora;
(didascalia)	ché mettendosi così in mezzo a loro saltò dentro Paride col suo
PATROCLO	ardimento, e separò così voi e il vostro argomento. La bacia
(didascalia)	ULISSE a parte
PATROCLO	O fiele mortale, e tema di tutti i nostri scherni! per cui perdiamo la testa a dorare le sue corna.
PATROCLO	(a Cressida) Il primo fu il bacio di Menelao; questo, il mio. Patroclo vi bacia. La bacia di nuovo
MENELAO	Oh, questo è bello.
PATROCLO	(a Cressida) Paride e io baciamo sempre per lui.
MENELAO	Voglio il mio bacio, signore.—Signora, con vostra licenza.
CRESSIDA	Nel baciare, date o ricevete?
(didascalia)	MENELAO
CRESSIDA	Prendo e do entrambi.
CRESSIDA	Scommetterò la vita: il bacio che prendete è migliore di quel che date. Perciò nessun bacio.
MENELAO	Vi darò la giunta: ve ne darò tre per uno.
CRESSIDA	Voi siete un uomo dispari: datene un numero pari o nessuno.
MENELAO	Un uomo dispari, signora? Ogni uomo è dispari.
CRESSIDA	No, Paride non lo è—ché sapete che è vero che voi siete dispari, ed egli è pari con voi.
MENELAO	Mi date un colpetto sulla testa.
CRESSIDA	No, lo giurerei.
ULISSE	Non sarebbe partita pari, la vostra unghia contro il suo corno. Posso, dolce signora, chiedervi in elemosina un bacio?
CRESSIDA	Potete.
ULISSE	Lo desidero.
CRESSIDA	Ebbene, chiedetelo pure in elemosina.
ULISSE	Allora, per amor di Venere, datemi un bacio quando Elena sarà vergine di nuovo, e sua—
CRESSIDA	Vi son debitrice; reclamatelo quando sarà dovuto.
ULISSE	Il mio giorno è il Mai, e allora un bacio da voi.
DIOMEDE	Signora, una parola. Vi condurrò a vostro padre.
(didascalia)	Parlano in disparte
NESTORE	Una donna di senso pronto.
ULISSE	Vergogna, vergogna su di lei! V’è linguaggio nel suo occhio, nella guancia, nel labbro; anzi, il suo piede parla. I suoi spiriti lascivi guardano fuori da ogni giuntura e movenza del suo corpo. Oh, queste donne d’incontri, così sciolte di lingua, che dànno il benvenuto all’accostarsi prima che venga, e spalancano le tavole dei loro pensieri a ogni lettore malizioso, mettetele in conto come sozze prede dell’occasione e figlie del mestiere.
(didascalia)	Escono Diomede e Cressida
(didascalia)	Fanfara
TUTTI	La tromba dei Troiani.
(didascalia)	Entrano tutti quelli di Troia: Ettore armato, Paride, Enea, Eleno, e seguaci, fra loro Troilo
AGAMENNONE	Là viene la schiera.
(didascalia)	ENEA facendosi avanti
AGAMENNONE	Salute a voi tutti, consesso di Grecia! Che si farà a colui al quale la vittoria comanda? O intendete che un vincitore sia dichiarato? Volete che i cavalieri si perseguano l’un l’altro fino al limite d’ogni estremo, o saranno separati da qualche voce o ordine del campo? Ettore mi comandò di chiedere.
AGAMENNONE	In che modo lo vuole Ettore?
ENEA	Non gliene importa; obbedirà alle condizioni.
(didascalia)	ACHILLE
ENEA	È fatto da Ettore—ma fatto con troppa sicurezza, un poco superbamente, e assai disprezzando il cavaliere avversario.
ENEA	Se non Achille, signore, qual è il vostro nome?
ACHILLE	Se non Achille, nulla.
ENEA	Dunque Achille. Ma chiunque siate, sappiate questo: negli estremi del grande e del piccolo, il valore e la superbia si superano in Ettore, l’uno quasi infinito come il tutto, l’altra vuota come il nulla. Pesatelo bene, e ciò che sembra superbia è cortesia. Questo Aiace è fatto per metà del sangue d’Ettore, per amore del quale metà d’Ettore resta a casa. Mezzo cuore, mezza mano, mezzo Ettore viene a cercare questo cavaliere mescolato, mezzo Troiano e mezzo Greco.
ACHILLE	Una battaglia verginale, allora? Oh, vi capisco.
(didascalia)	Entra Diomede
AGAMENNONE	Ecco messer Diomede.—Andate, gentile cavaliere, state accanto al nostro Aiace. Come voi e il signor Enea convenite sull’ordine del loro combattimento, così sia: o fino all’estremo o solo per una prova di fiato.
(didascalia)	Escono Aiace, Diomede, Ettore, ed Enea
AGAMENNONE	L’esser parenti i combattenti smorza a metà la loro lotta prima che i colpi comincino. ULISSE Sono già l’uno contro l’altro.
AGAMENNONE	Che Troiano è quello che ha l’aria così grave?
ULISSE	Il più giovane figlio di Priamo, un vero cavaliere: lo chiamano Troilo. Non ancor maturo, pur incomparabilmente fermo di parola, che parla in fatti e non fa fatti con la lingua; non presto provocato, né, provocato, presto calmato; il suo cuore e la sua mano entrambi aperti ed entrambi liberali. Ché ciò che ha lo dà; ciò che pensa lo mostra; pur non dà finché il giudizio non guidi la sua liberalità, né onora col fiato un pensiero indegno. Virile come Ettore, ma più pericoloso, ché Ettore, nella vampa della sua ira, cede davanti a oggetti indifesi, ma egli nel calore dell’azione è più vindice dell’amore geloso. Lo chiamano Troilo, e su di lui erigono una seconda speranza costruita bene quanto Ettore. Così dice Enea, uno che conosce il giovane fin nei suoi pollici, e con animo confidente me lo tradusse così nella grande Ilio.
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme
AGAMENNONE	Sono in azione.
NESTORE	Ora, Aiace, tieni il tuo posto!
TROILO	Ettore, tu dormi! Svegliati!
(didascalia)	I suoi colpi sono ben assestati. Là, Aiace! Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Hector and Ajax fighting, and Aeneas and
(didascalia)	Diomedes interposing. Trumpets cease
DIOMEDES	You must no more.
AENEAS	Princes, enough, so please you.
AJAX	I am not warm yet. Let us fight again.
DIOMEDES	As Hector pleases.
HECTOR	Why then will I no 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 commixtion Greek and Trojan so That thou couldst say ’This hand is Grecian all, 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 father‘s,’ 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 drop thou borrowed’st from thy mother, My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword Be drained. Let me embrace thee, Ajax. By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms. Hector would have them fall upon him thus. Cousin, all honour to thee.
AJAX	I thank thee, Hector. Thou art too gentle and too free a man. I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence A great addition earned in thy death.
HECTOR	Not Neoptolemus so mirable, On whose bright crest Fame with her loud‘st oyez Cries ’This is he!’, could promise to himself A thought of added honour torn from Hector.
AENEAS	There is expectance here from both the sides What further you will do.
HECTOR	We’ll answer it: The issue is embracement.—Ajax, farewell.
AJAX	If I might in entreaties find success, As seld I have the chance, I would desire My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.
DIOMEDES	’Tis Agamemnon’s wish—and great Achilles Doth long to see unarmed the valiant Hector.
HECTOR	Aeneas, call my brother Troilus to me, And signify this loving interview To the expecters of our Trojan part.
(didascalia)	Desire them home. Exit Aeneas
HECTOR	Give me thy hand, my cousin. I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.
(didascalia)	Enter Agamemnon and the rest: Aeneas, Ulysses,
HECTOR	Menelaus, Nestor, Achilles, Patroclus, Troilus, and others
AJAX	Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
HECTOR	(to Aeneas) 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.
AGAMEMNON	(embracing him) 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 strewed with husks And formless ruin of oblivion, But in this extant moment faith and troth, Strained purely from all hollow bias-drawing, Bids thee with most divine integrity From heart of very heart, ‘Great Hector, welcome!’
HECTOR	I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.
(didascalia)	AGAMEMNON to Troilus
HECTOR	My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.
MENELAUS	Let me confirm my princely brother’s greeting. You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
(didascalia)	He embraces Hector and Troilus
HECTOR	(to Aeneas) Who must we answer?
AENEAS	The noble Menelaus.
HECTOR	O, you, my lord! By Mars his gauntlet, thanks. Mock not that I affect th’untraded oath. Your quondam wife swears still by Venus’ glove. She’s well, but bade me not commend her to you.
MENELAUS	Name her not now, sir. She’s a deadly theme.
HECTOR	O, pardon. I offend.
NESTOR	I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way Through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have seen thee As hot as Perseus spur thy Phrygian steed, And seen thee scorning forfeits and subduements, When thou hast hung th‘advancèd sword i’th’ air, Not letting it decline on the declined, That I have said unto my standers-by, ‘Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life’. And 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 grandsire And once fought with him. He was a soldier good, But—by great Mars, the captain of us all— Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee; And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. He embraces Hector
AENEAS	(to Hector) ’Tis the old Nestor.
HECTOR	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.
NESTOR	I would my arms could match thee in contention As they contend with thee in courtesy.
HECTOR	I would they could.
NESTOR	Ha! By this white beard I’d fight with thee tomorrow. Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time.
ULYSSES	I wonder now how yonder city stands When we have here her base and pillar by us?
HECTOR	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 Ilium on your Greekish embassy.
ULYSSES	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 towers whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
HECTOR	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.
ULYSSES	So to him we leave it. Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome.
(didascalia)	He embraces him
ULYSSES	After the General, I beseech you next To feast with me and see me at my tent.
(didascalia)	I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses. To Hector Thou!
ACHILLES	Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee. I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint.
HECTOR	Is this Achilles?
ACHILLES	I am Achilles.
HECTOR	Stand fair, I pray thee, let me look on thee.
ACHILLES	Behold thy fill.
HECTOR	Nay, I have done already.
ACHILLES	Thou art too brief. I will the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
HECTOR	O, like a book of sport thou‘lt read me o’er. But there’s more in me than thou understand’st. Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?
ACHILLES	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 whereout Hector’s great spirit flew? Answer me, heavens.
HECTOR	It would discredit the blest gods, proud man, To answer such a question. Stand again. Think’st thou to catch my life so pleasantly As to prenominate in nice conjecture Where thou wilt hit me dead?
ACHILLES	I tell thee, yea.
HECTOR	Wert thou the 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 stithied Mars his 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 endeavour deeds to match these words, Or may I never—
AJAX	Do not chafe thee, cousin.— And you, Achilles, let these threats alone, Till accident or purpose bring you to’t. 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.
HECTOR	(to Achilles) I pray you, let us see you in the field. We have had pelting wars since you refused The Grecians’ cause.
ACHILLES	Dost thou entreat me, Hector? Tomorrow do I meet thee, fell as death; Tonight, all friends.
HECTOR	Thy hand upon that match.
AGAMEMNON	First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent. There in the full convive you. Afterwards, As Hector’s leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat him. Beat loud the taborins, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt all but Troilus and Ulysses
TROILUS	My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
ULYSSES	At Menelaus’ tent, most princely Troilus. There Diomed doth feast with him tonight— Who neither looks on heaven nor on earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid.
TROILUS	Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon’s tent, To bring me thither?
ULYSSES	You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there That wails her absence?
TROILUS	O sir, to such as boasting show their scars A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? She was beloved, she loved; she is, and doth. But still sweet love is food for fortune’s tooth. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Ettore e Aiace combattendo, ed Enea e
(didascalia)	Diomede che s’interpongono. Le trombe cessano
DIOMEDE	Non dovete più.
ENEA	Principi, basta, se vi piace.
AIACE	Non sono ancora riscaldato. Combattiamo di nuovo.
DIOMEDE	Come piace a Ettore.
ETTORE	Allora io non voglio più.— Tu sei, gran signore, il figlio della sorella di mio padre, cugino primo del seme del grande Priamo. L’obbligo del nostro sangue vieta una sanguinosa emulazione fra noi due. Fosse la tua mescolanza di Greco e di Troiano tale che tu potessi dire ‘Questa mano è tutta greca, e questa è troiana; i nervi di questa gamba tutti greci, e questa tutta di Troia; il sangue di mia madre corre sulla guancia destra, e questa sinistra racchiude quello di mio padre,’ per Giove onnipotente non porteresti via da me un membro greco in cui la mia spada non avesse impresso il segno della nostra rancida faida. Ma i giusti dèi vietano che una sola goccia che prendesti in prestito da tua madre, mia sacra zia, sia dalla mia mortale spada prosciugata. Lascia ch’io t’abbracci, Aiace. Per colui che tuona, tu hai braccia gagliarde. Ettore vuole che gli cadano addosso così. Cugino, ogni onore a te.
AIACE	Ti ringrazio, Ettore. Tu sei uomo troppo gentile e troppo generoso. Venni per ucciderti, cugino, e per portar via un gran titolo guadagnato nella tua morte.
ETTORE	Nemmeno Neottolemo, così mirabile, sul cui lucente cimiero la Fama col suo più forte ‘udite’ grida ‘Questo è lui!’, potrebbe promettere a se stesso un pensiero d’onore aggiunto, strappato a Ettore.
ENEA	Da entrambe le parti qui s’attende che altro farete.
ETTORE	Risponderemo: l’esito è un abbraccio.—Aiace, addio.
AIACE	Se nelle preghiere potessi trovar successo, come raramente me ne càpita l’occasione, inviterei il mio famoso cugino alle nostre tende greche.
DIOMEDE	È il desiderio d’Agamennone—e il grande Achille brama vedere disarmato il valoroso Ettore.
ETTORE	Enea, chiamami mio fratello Troilo, e annuncia questo amichevole incontro a coloro che attendono da parte troiana.
(didascalia)	Pregali di tornare a casa. Esce Enea
ETTORE	Dammi la mano, cugino mio. Andrò a mangiare con te, e vedrò i vostri cavalieri.
(didascalia)	Entrano Agamennone e gli altri: Enea, Ulisse,
ETTORE	Menelao, Nestore, Achille, Patroclo, Troilo, e altri
AIACE	Il grande Agamennone viene a incontrarci qui.
ETTORE	(a Enea) I più degni fra loro, dimmeli nome per nome. Ma quanto ad Achille, i miei occhi indagatori lo troveranno dalla sua ampia e imponente statura.
AGAMENNONE	(abbracciandolo) Degno delle armi, benvenuto quanto può esserlo per uno che vorrebbe liberarsi di tale nemico. Ma questo non è un benvenuto. Intendi più chiaramente: ciò che è passato e ciò che è a venire è sparso di gusci e d’informe rovina d’oblio, ma in questo istante presente la fede e la lealtà, filtrate pure da ogni vuota parzialità, ti dicono con divinissima integrità, dal cuore del cuore stesso: ‘Grande Ettore, benvenuto!’
ETTORE	Ti ringrazio, imperiosissimo Agamennone.
(didascalia)	AGAMENNONE a Troilo
ETTORE	Mio ben famoso signore di Troia, non meno a voi.
MENELAO	Lasciate ch’io confermi il saluto del mio regale fratello. Voi coppia di fratelli guerrieri, benvenuti qui.
(didascalia)	Abbraccia Ettore e Troilo
ETTORE	(a Enea) A chi dobbiamo rispondere?
ENEA	Il nobile Menelao.
ETTORE	Oh, voi, mio signore! Per il guanto di Marte, grazie. Non beffate s’io amo il giuramento insolito. La vostra già moglie giura ancora per il guanto di Venere. Sta bene, ma non m’incaricò di raccomandarla a voi.
MENELAO	Non nominatela ora, signore. È un tema mortale.
ETTORE	Oh, perdonate. Offendo.
NESTORE	Io t’ho veduto spesso, prode Troiano, che, faticando per il destino, aprivi crudele varco fra le file della gioventù greca, e t’ho veduto ardente come Perseo spronare il tuo destriero frigio, e t’ho veduto disdegnare riscatti e sottomissioni, quando tenevi sospesa in aria la spada levata, non lasciandola calare sui caduti, sì che dissi a quelli che mi stavano accanto: ‘Ecco, Giove è là, che dispensa vita’. E t’ho veduto fermarti e riprender fiato, quando un cerchio di Greci t’aveva accerchiato, come un atleta olimpico nella lotta. Questo ho veduto; ma questo tuo volto, sempre chiuso nell’acciaio, non lo vidi mai fino ad ora. Conobbi tuo avo e una volta combattei con lui. Era un buon soldato, ma—per il grande Marte, capitano di noi tutti— mai come te. Lascia che un vecchio t’abbracci; e, degno guerriero, benvenuto alle nostre tende. Abbraccia Ettore
ENEA	(a Ettore) È il vecchio Nestore.
ETTORE	Lascia ch’io t’abbracci, buona vecchia cronaca, che tanto a lungo hai camminato mano nella mano col tempo. Reverendissimo Nestore, son lieto di stringerti.
NESTORE	Vorrei che le mie braccia potessero gareggiare con te nella lotta come gareggiano con te nella cortesia.
ETTORE	Vorrei che potessero.
NESTORE	Ah! Per questa barba bianca combatterei con te domani. Bene, benvenuto, benvenuto! Ho conosciuto quel tempo.
ULISSE	Mi meraviglio ora come quella città là stia in piedi, quando abbiamo qui accanto a noi la sua base e la sua colonna.
ETTORE	Conosco bene il vostro volto, signor Ulisse. Ah, signore, molti Greci e Troiani son morti da quando vidi per la prima volta voi e Diomede in Ilio nella vostra ambasceria greca.
ULISSE	Signore, allora vi predissi ciò che ne sarebbe seguito. La mia profezia non è ancora a metà del suo cammino; ché quelle mura che baldanzose fronteggiano la vostra città, quelle torri le cui cime lascive baciano le nubi, dovranno baciare i propri piedi.
ETTORE	Non devo credervi. Là stanno ancora, e modestamente credo che la caduta d’ogni pietra frigia costerà una goccia di sangue greco. La fine incorona tutto, e quel vecchio comune arbitro, il Tempo, un giorno vi porrà fine.
ULISSE	Dunque a lui la lasciamo. Gentilissimo e valorosissimo Ettore, benvenuto.
(didascalia)	Lo abbraccia
ULISSE	Dopo il Generale, vi supplico, siate poi mio convitato e visitatemi nella mia tenda.
(didascalia)	Ti precederò, signor Ulisse. A Ettore Tu!
ACHILLE	Ora, Ettore, ho pasciuto i miei occhi di te. Con esatta vista t’ho scrutato, Ettore, e t’ho annotato giuntura per giuntura.
ETTORE	È questo Achille?
ACHILLE	Io sono Achille.
ETTORE	Sta’ in piena luce, ti prego, lascia ch’io ti guardi.
ACHILLE	Guarda a sazietà.
ETTORE	No, ho già finito.
ACHILLE	Sei troppo breve. Una seconda volta, come volessi comprarti, ti esaminerò membro per membro.
ETTORE	Oh, come un libro di caccia mi leggerai tutto. Ma in me c’è più di quanto tu comprenda. Perché mi opprimi così col tuo occhio?
ACHILLE	Ditemi, o cieli, in quale parte del suo corpo lo distruggerò—se là, o là, o là— ch’io possa dare un nome alla ferita nel suo luogo, e render distinta la breccia stessa da cui volò via il grande spirito d’Ettore? Rispondetemi, cieli.
ETTORE	Disonorerebbe i beati dèi, uomo superbo, rispondere a tale domanda. Stammi di nuovo davanti. Credi di prendermi la vita così piacevolmente da pronominare in sottile congettura dove mi colpirai a morte?
ACHILLE	Ti dico che sì.
ETTORE	Fossi tu l’oracolo a dirmelo, non ti crederei. D’ora in poi guardati bene. Ché io non t’ucciderò là, né là, né là, ma, per la fucina che forgiò l’elmo di Marte, t’ucciderò in ogni parte, sì, e ancora e ancora.— Voi sapientissimi Greci, perdonatemi questa vanteria: la sua insolenza trae follia dalle mie labbra. Ma mi sforzerò d’imprese pari a queste parole, o ch’io mai—
AIACE	Non t’accalorare, cugino.— E voi, Achille, lasciate stare queste minacce, finché il caso o il proposito non vi conducano al fatto. Potete aver ogni giorno Ettore a sazietà, se avete fegato. Il consiglio generale, temo, a stento può pregarvi d’essere in lite con lui.
ETTORE	(a Achille) Vi prego, fatevi vedere sul campo. Abbiamo avuto guerre da poco da quando rifiutaste la causa dei Greci.
ACHILLE	Mi preghi tu, Ettore? Domani t’incontrerò, crudele come la morte; stanotte, tutti amici.
ETTORE	La tua mano su questo patto.
AGAMENNONE	Prima, voi tutti pari di Grecia, andate alla mia tenda. Là banchettate in pieno. Poi, come l’agio d’Ettore e le vostre liberalità concorreranno insieme, invitatelo ciascuno per sé. Battete forte i tamburi, suonino le trombe, ché questo gran soldato conosca il suo benvenuto.
(didascalia)	Fanfara. Escono tutti tranne Troilo e Ulisse
TROILO	Mio signor Ulisse, ditemi, vi supplico, in che luogo del campo dimora Calcante?
ULISSE	Alla tenda di Menelao, principissimo Troilo. Là Diomede banchetta con lui stanotte— egli che non guarda né cielo né terra, ma volge ogni sguardo e ogni inclinazione d’occhio amoroso alla bella Cressida.
TROILO	Vi sarò, dolce signore, tanto obbligato se, dopo che ci separeremo dalla tenda d’Agamennone, mi condurrete colà?
ULISSE	Comandatemi, signore. Ma altrettanto gentilmente ditemi: di quale onore era questa Cressida in Troia? Non aveva là un amante che pianga la sua assenza?
TROILO	Oh signore, a chi vantandosi mostra le proprie cicatrici è dovuta una beffa. Volete proseguire, mio signore? Era amata, amava; è amata, e ama. Ma il dolce amore è sempre cibo per il dente della fortuna. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles and Patroclus
ACHILLES	I’ll heat his blood with Greekish wine tonight, Which with my scimitar I’ll cool tomorrow. Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
PATROCLUS	Here comes Thersites.
(didascalia)	Enter Thersites
ACHILLES	How now, thou core of envy, Thou crusty botch of nature, what’s the news?
THERSITES	Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot-worshippers, here’s a letter for thee.
ACHILLES	From whence, fragment?
THERSITES	Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. Achilles reads the letter
PATROCLUS	Who keeps the tent now?
THERSITES	The surgeon’s box or the patient’s wound.
PATROCLUS	Well said, adversity. And what need these tricks?
THERSITES	Prithee be silent, boy. I profit not by thy talk. Thou art thought to be Achilles’ male varlet.
PATROCLUS	‘Male varlet’, you rogue? What’s that?
THERSITES	Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten diseases of the south, guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o’ gravel i’th’ back, lethargies, cold palsies, and the like, take and take again such preposterous discoveries!
PATROCLUS	Why, thou damnable box of envy thou, what mean’st thou to curse thus?
THERSITES	Do I curse thee?
PATROCLUS	Why, no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no.
THERSITES	No? Why art thou then exasperate? Thou idle immaterial skein of sleave-silk, thou green sarsenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal’s purse, thou! Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such waterflies! Diminutives of nature.
PATROCLUS	Out, gall!
THERSITES	Finch egg!
ACHILLES	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 gaging me to keep An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it. Fall, Greeks; fail, fame; honour, or go or stay. My major vow lies here; this I’ll obey.— Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent. This night in banqueting must all be spent.— Away, Patroclus. Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus
THERSITES	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 curer of madmen. Here’s Agamemnon: an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he has not so much brain as ear-wax. And the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother the bull, the primitive statue and oblique memorial of cuckolds, a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother’s leg: to what form but that he is should wit larded with malice and malice farced with wit turn him to? To an ass were nothing: he is both ass and ox. To an ox were nothing: he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menetaus!—I would conspire against destiny. Ask me not what I would be if I were not Thersites, for I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menetaus.—Hey-day, sprites and fires.
(didascalia)	Enter Hector, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor,
THERSITES	Menelaus, Troilus, and Diomedes, with lights
AGAMEMNON	We go wrong, we go wrong.
AJAX	No, yonder ’tis: There, where we see the light.
HECTOR	I trouble you.
AJAX	No, not a whit.
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles
ULYSSES	Here comes himself to guide you.
ACHILLES	Welcome, brave Hector. Welcome, princes all.
AGAMEMNON	(to Hector) So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good night. Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.
HECTOR	Thanks and good night to the Greeks’ general.
MENELAUS	Good night, my lord.
HECTOR	Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus.
THERSITES	(aside) Sweet draught! ‘Sweet’, quoth a? Sweet sink, sweet sewer.
ACHILLES	Good night and welcome both at once, to those That go or tarry.
AGAMEMNON	Good night.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus
ACHILLES	Old Nestor tarries, and you too, Diomed. Keep Hector company an hour or two.
DIOMEDES	I cannot, lord. I have important business The tide whereof is now.—Good night, great Hector.
HECTOR	Give me your hand.
ULYSSES	(aside to Troilus) Follow his torch, he goes to Calchas’ tent. I’ll keep you company.
TROILUS	(aside) Sweet sir, you honour me.
HECTOR	(to Diomedes) And so good night.
ACHILLES	Come, come, enter my tent.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Diomedes, followed by Ulysses and
ACHILLES	Troilus, at one door; and Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and Nestor at another door
THERSITES	That same Diomed’s a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave. I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent when he hisses. He will spend his mouth and promise like Brabbler the hound, but when he performs astronomers foretell it: that is prodigious, there will come some change. The sun borrows of the moon when Diomed 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 his tent. I’ll after.—Nothing but lechery! All incontinent varlets! Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Achille e Patroclo
ACHILLE	Gli scalderò il sangue stanotte con vino greco, che domani gli raffredderò con la mia scimitarra. Patroclo, banchettiamolo al massimo.
PATROCLO	Ecco che viene Tersite.
(didascalia)	Entra Tersite
ACHILLE	Ebbene, tu torsolo d’invidia, tu crostosa pustola della natura, che nuove ci sono?
TERSITE	Ebbene, tu ritratto di quel che sembri, e idolo d’adoratori idioti, ecco una lettera per te.
ACHILLE	Da dove, frammento?
TERSITE	Ebbene, tu piatto colmo di scemo, da Troia. Achille legge la lettera
PATROCLO	Chi tiene la tenda ora?
TERSITE	L’astuccio del chirurgo o la ferita del paziente.
PATROCLO	Ben detto, avversità. E che bisogno c’è di questi giochetti?
TERSITE	Ti prego, taci, ragazzo. Non traggo profitto dal tuo discorso. Ti si crede il servitore maschio d’Achille.
PATROCLO	‘Servitore maschio’, furfante? Che roba è?
TERSITE	Ebbene, la sua puttana in maschio. Ora le putride malattie del sud, le coliche, le ernie, i catarri, i carichi di renella nella schiena, le letargie, le paralisi fredde, e simili, prendano e riprendano tali scoperte a rovescio!
PATROCLO	Ma tu, maledetta scatola d’invidia che sei, che intendi con questo maledire?
TERSITE	Maledico te?
PATROCLO	No, no, tu botte in rovina, tu cagnaccio bastardo senza forma, no.
TERSITE	No? E perché allora sei esasperato? Tu ozioso e immateriale gomitolo di seta sfilacciata, tu benda di taffettà verde per un occhio malato, tu fiocco della borsa d’un prodigo, tu! Ah, come il povero mondo è infestato di tali mosche d’acqua! Diminutivi della natura.
PATROCLO	Via, fiele!
TERSITE	Uovo di fringuello!
ACHILLE	Mio dolce Patroclo, sono del tutto sviato dal mio grande proposito nella battaglia di domani. Ecco una lettera dalla regina Ecuba, un pegno da sua figlia, il mio bell’amore, che entrambe m’accusano, e m’impegnano a mantenere un giuramento che ho fatto. Non lo romperò. Cadete, Greci; svanisci, fama; onore, vattene o resta. Il mio voto maggiore sta qui; a questo obbedirò.— Su, su, Tersite, aiuta ad addobbare la mia tenda. Questa notte dev’esser tutta spesa in banchetti.— Via, Patroclo. Escono Achille e Patroclo
TERSITE	Con troppo sangue e troppo poco cervello questi due possono impazzire, ma se impazziscono con troppo cervello e troppo poco sangue, mi farò guaritore di pazzi. Ecco Agamennone: un tipo abbastanza onesto, e uno che ama le quaglie, ma non ha tanto cervello quanta cera d’orecchi. E là quella bella trasformazione di Giove, suo fratello il toro, la statua primigenia e obliquo memoriale dei cornuti, un economico calzascarpe appeso a una catena alla gamba del fratello: in che forma, se non in quella che ha, potrebbero mutarlo l’ingegno lardellato di malizia e la malizia farcita d’ingegno? Farlo asino sarebbe nulla: è insieme asino e bue. Farlo bue sarebbe nulla: è insieme bue e asino. Essere un cane, un mulo, un gatto, una puzzola, un rospo, una lucertola, una civetta, un nibbio, o un’aringa senza uova, non me n’importerebbe; ma essere Menetao!—congiurerei contro il destino. Non chiedetemi che vorrei essere se non fossi Tersite, ché non m’importerebbe d’essere il pidocchio d’un lebbroso, purché non fossi Menetao.—Ohilà, spiriti e fuochi.
(didascalia)	Entrano Ettore, Aiace, Agamennone, Ulisse, Nestore,
TERSITE	Menelao, Troilo, e Diomede, con lumi
AGAMENNONE	Sbagliamo strada, sbagliamo strada.
AIACE	No, è là: là, dove vediamo la luce.
ETTORE	Vi incomodo.
AIACE	No, niente affatto.
(didascalia)	Entra Achille
ULISSE	Ecco che viene lui stesso a guidarvi.
ACHILLE	Benvenuto, prode Ettore. Benvenuti, principi tutti.
AGAMENNONE	(a Ettore) Dunque ora, bel principe di Troia, vi dico buona notte. Aiace ordina alla guardia di servirvi.
ETTORE	Grazie e buona notte al generale dei Greci.
MENELAO	Buona notte, mio signore.
ETTORE	Buona notte, dolce signor Menelao.
TERSITE	(a parte) Dolce latrina! ‘Dolce’, ha detto? Dolce scolo, dolce fogna.
ACHILLE	Buona notte e benvenuto insieme, a quelli che vanno o restano.
AGAMENNONE	Buona notte.
(didascalia)	Escono Agamennone e Menelao
ACHILLE	Il vecchio Nestore resta, e anche voi, Diomede. Tenete compagnia a Ettore un’ora o due.
DIOMEDE	Non posso, signore. Ho un affare importante la cui marea è adesso.—Buona notte, grande Ettore.
ETTORE	Datemi la vostra mano.
ULISSE	(a parte, a Troilo) Seguite la sua torcia, va alla tenda di Calcante. Vi terrò compagnia.
TROILO	(a parte) Dolce signore, mi fate onore.
ETTORE	(a Diomede) E dunque buona notte.
ACHILLE	Su, su, entrate nella mia tenda.
(didascalia)	Escono Diomede, seguito da Ulisse e
ACHILLE	Troilo, da una porta; e Achille, Ettore, Aiace, e Nestore da un’altra porta
TERSITE	Quel Diomede è un furfante dal cuore falso, un manigoldo iniquissimo. Mi fiderò di lui quando fa l’occhiolino non più che d’una serpe quando sibila. Sguaina la bocca e promette come Brabbler il cane da caccia, ma quando mantiene gli astronomi lo predicono: è cosa prodigiosa, verrà qualche mutamento. Il sole prende in prestito dalla luna quando Diomede tiene la parola. Rinuncerò piuttosto a vedere Ettore che a non stargli alle calcagna. Dicono che tiene una sgualdrina troiana, e usa la tenda del traditore Calcante. Gli andrò dietro.—Nient’altro che lussuria! Tutti servitori incontinenti! Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes
DIOMEDES	What, are you up here? Ho! Speak!
(didascalia)	CALCHAS at the door Who calls?
DIOMEDES	Diomed. Calchas, I think. Where’s your daughter?
(didascalia)	CALCHAS at the door She comes to you.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus and Ulysses, unseen
ULYSSES	(aside) Stand where the torch may not discover us.
TROILUS	(aside) Cressid comes forth to him.
(didascalia)	Enter Cressida
DIOMEDES	How now, my charge?
CRESSIDA	Now, my sweet guardian. Hark, a word with you. She whispers to him.
(didascalia)	Enter Thersites, unseen
TROILUS	(aside) Yea, so familiar?
ULYSSES	(aside) She will sing any man at first sight.
THERSITES	(aside) And any man may sing her, if he can take her clef. She’s noted.
DIOMEDES	Will you remember?
CRESSIDA	Remember? Yes.
DIOMEDES	Nay, but do then, And let your mind be coupled with your words.
TROILUS	(aside) What should she remember?
ULYSSES	(aside) List!
CRESSIDA	Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.
THERSITES	(aside) Roguery.
DIOMEDES	Nay, then!
CRESSIDA	I’ll tell you what—
DIOMEDES	Fo, fo! Come, tell a pin. You are forsworn.
CRESSIDA	In faith, I cannot. What would you have me do?
THERSITES	(aside) A juggling trick: to be secretly open.
DIOMEDES	What did you swear you would bestow on me?
CRESSIDA	I prithee, do not hold me to mine oath. Bid me do anything but that, sweet Greek.
DIOMEDES	Good night.
TROILUS	(aside) Hold, patience!
ULYSSES	(aside) How now, Trojan?
CRESSIDA	Diomed.
DIOMEDES	No, no, good night. I’ll be your fool no more.
TROILUS	(aside) Thy better must.
CRESSIDA	Hark, one word in your ear. She whispers to him
TROILUS	(aside) O plague and madness!
ULYSSES	(aside) 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 right deadly. I beseech you go.
TROILUS	(aside) Behold, I pray you.
ULYSSES	(aside) Nay, good my lord, go off. You flow to great distraction. Come, my lord.
TROILUS	(aside) I prithee, stay.
ULYSSES	(aside) You have not patience. Come.
TROILUS	(aside) I pray you, stay. By hell and all hell’s torments, I will not speak a word.
DIOMEDES	And so good night.
CRESSIDA	Nay, but you part in anger.
TROILUS	(aside) Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth!
ULYSSES	(aside) Why, how now, lord?
TROILUS	(aside) By Jove, I will be patient.
(didascalia)	Diomedes starts to go
CRESSIDA	Guardian! Why, Greek!
DIOMEDES	Fo, fo! Adieu. You palter.
CRESSIDA	In faith, I do not. Come hither once again.
ULYSSES	(aside) You shake, my lord, at something. Will you go? You will break out.
TROILUS	(aside) She strokes his cheek.
ULYSSES	(aside) Come, come.
TROILUS	(aside) 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.
THERSITES	(aside) How the devil Luxury with his fat rump and potato finger tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry.
DIOMEDES	But will you then?
CRESSIDA	In faith, I will, la. Never trust me else.
DIOMEDES	Give me some token for the surety of it.
CRESSIDA	I’ll fetch you one. Exit
ULYSSES	(aside) You have sworn patience.
TROILUS	(aside) Fear me not, sweet lord. I will not be myself, nor have cognition Of what I feel. I am all patience.
(didascalia)	Enter Cressida with Troilus’ sleeve
THERSITES	(aside) Now the pledge! Now, now, now.
CRESSIDA	Here Diomed, keep this sleeve.
TROILUS	(aside) O beauty, where is thy faith?
ULYSSES	(aside) My lord.
TROILUS	(aside) I will be patient; outwardly I will.
CRESSIDA	You look upon that sleeve. Behold it well. He loved me—O false wench!—give’t me again. She takes it back
DIOMEDES	Whose was’t?
CRESSIDA	It is no matter, now I ha’t again. I will not meet with you tomorrow night. I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more.
THERSITES	(aside) Now she sharpens. Well said, whetstone.
DIOMEDES	I shall have it.
CRESSIDA	What, this?
DIOMEDES	Ay, that.
CRESSIDA	O all you gods! O pretty pretty pledge! Thy master now lies thinking on his bed Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove And gives memorial dainty kisses to it—
(didascalia)	DIOMEDES
CRESSIDA	As I kiss thee.
(didascalia)	he snatches the sieeve
(didascalia)	CRESSiDA Nay, do not snatch it from me.
CRESSIDA	He that takes that doth take my heart withal.
DIOMEDES	I had your heart before; this follows it.
TROILUS	(aside) I did swear patience.
CRESSIDA	You shall not have it, Diomed. Faith, you shall not. I’ll give you something else.
DIOMEDES	I will have this. Whose was it?
CRESSIDA	It is no matter.
DIOMEDES	Come, tell me whose it was?
CRESSIDA	’Twas one’s that loved me better than you will. But now you have it, take it.
DIOMEDES	Whose was it?
CRESSIDA	By all Diana’s waiting-women yond, And by herself, I will not tell you whose.
DIOMEDES	Tomorrow will I wear it on my helm, And grieve his spirit that dares, not challenge it.
TROILUS	(aside) Wert thou the devil and wor’st it on thy horn, It should be challenged.
CRESSIDA	Well, well, ‘tis done, ’tis past—and yet it is not. I will not keep my word.
DIOMEDES	Why then, farewell. Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.
CRESSIDA	You shall not go. One cannot speak a word But it straight starts you.
DIOMEDES	I do not like this fooling.
(didascalia)	TROILUS (aside)
DIOMEDES	Nor I, by Pluto—but that that likes not you Pleases me best.
DIOMEDES	What, shall I come? The hour—
CRESSIDA	Ay, come. O Jove, do come. I shall be plagued.
DIOMEDES	Farewell till then.
CRESSIDA	Good night. I prithee, come.
(didascalia)	Exit Diomedes
CRESSIDA	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
THERSITES	(aside) A proof of strength she could not publish more Unless she said, ‘My mind is now turned whore’.
ULYSSES	All’s done, my lord.
TROILUS	It is.
ULYSSES	Why stay we then?
TROILUS	To make a recordation to my soul Of every syllable that here 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 esperance so obstinately strong, That doth invert th’attest of eyes and ears, As if those organs had deceptious functions Created only to calumniate. Was Cressid here?
ULYSSES	I cannot conjure, Trojan.
TROILUS	She was not, sure.
ULYSSES	Most sure, she was.
TROILUS	Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.
ULYSSES	Nor mine, my lord. Cressid was here but now.
TROILUS	Let it not be believed, for womanhood. Think: we had mothers. Do not give advantage To stubborn critics, apt without a theme For depravation to square the general sex By Cressid’s rule. Rather, think this not Cressid.
ULYSSES	What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our mothers?
TROILUS	Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
THERSITES	(aside) Will a swagger himself out on’s own eyes?
TROILUS	This, she? No, this is Diomed’s Cressida. If beauty have a soul, this is not she. If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies, If sanctimony be the gods’ delight, If there be rule in unity itself, This is not she. O madness of discourse, That cause sets up with and against thyselfl Bifold authority, where reason can revolt Without perdition, and loss assume all reason Without revolt! This is and is not Cressid.
(didascalia)	Within my soul there doth conduce a fight
TROILUS	Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate Divides more wider than the sky and earth, And yet the spacious breadth of this division Admits no orifex for a point as subtle As Ariachne’s broken woof to enter. Instance, O instance, strong as Pluto’s gates: Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven. Instance, O 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 o’er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.
ULYSSES	May worthy Troilus e’en be half attached With that which here his passion doth express?
TROILUS	Ay, Greek, and that shall be divulged well In characters as red as Mars his heart Inflamed with Venus. Never did young man fancy With so eternal and so fixed a soul. Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressid love, So much by weight hate I her Diomed. That sleeve is mine that he’ll bear in his helm. Were it a casque composed by Vulcan’s skill, My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful spout Which shipmen do the hurricano call, Constringed in mass by the almighty sun, Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune’s ear In his descent, than shall my prompted sword Falling on Diomed.
THERSITES	(aside) He’ll tickle it for his concupy.
TROILUS	O Cressid, O false Cressid! False, false, false. Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, And they’ll seem glorious.
ULYSSES	O contain yourself. Your passion draws ears hither.
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas
AENEAS	(to Troilus) 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.
TROILUS	Have with you, Prince.—My courteous lord, adieu.— Farewell, revolted fair; and Diomed, Stand fast and wear a castle on thy head.
ULYSSES	I’ll bring you to the gates.
TROILUS	Accept distracted thanks.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Troilus, Aeneas, and Ulysses
THERSITES	Would I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like a raven. I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me anything for the intelligence of this whore. The parrot will not do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, lechery, still wars and lechery! Nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil take them! Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Diomede
DIOMEDE	Come, siete alzati qui? Ehi! Parlate!
(didascalia)	CALCANTE alla porta Chi chiama?
DIOMEDE	Diomede. Calcante, credo. Dov’è vostra figlia?
(didascalia)	CALCANTE alla porta Viene a voi.
(didascalia)	Entrano Troilo e Ulisse, non visti
ULISSE	(a parte) Stiamo dove la torcia non ci possa scoprire.
TROILO	(a parte) Cressida gli viene incontro.
(didascalia)	Entra Cressida
DIOMEDE	Ebbene, mia pupilla?
CRESSIDA	Ebbene, mio dolce tutore. Udite, una parola con voi. Gli sussurra.
(didascalia)	Entra Tersite, non visto
TROILO	(a parte) Ah, così intimi?
ULISSE	(a parte) Canterà a prima vista qualunque uomo.
TERSITE	(a parte) E qualunque uomo può cantarla, se sa prenderne la chiave. È segnata in note.
DIOMEDE	Vi ricorderete?
CRESSIDA	Ricordarmi? Sì.
DIOMEDE	Sì, ma fatelo dunque, e sia la vostra mente accoppiata alle vostre parole.
TROILO	(a parte) Che dovrebbe ricordare?
ULISSE	(a parte) Ascoltate!
CRESSIDA	Dolce Greco di miele, non tentarmi più alla follia.
TERSITE	(a parte) Furfanteria.
DIOMEDE	Ah, dunque!
CRESSIDA	Vi dirò una cosa—
DIOMEDE	Puah, puah! Via, non dite un bel niente. Siete spergiura.
CRESSIDA	In fede, non posso. Che volete che faccia?
TERSITE	(a parte) Un gioco di prestigio: essere segretamente aperta.
DIOMEDE	Che giuraste di concedermi?
CRESSIDA	Ti prego, non tenermi al mio giuramento. Chiedimi qualunque cosa fuor che quella, dolce Greco.
DIOMEDE	Buona notte.
TROILO	(a parte) Ferma, pazienza!
ULISSE	(a parte) Ebbene, Troiano?
CRESSIDA	Diomede.
DIOMEDE	No, no, buona notte. Non sarò più il vostro zimbello.
TROILO	(a parte) Uno migliore di te lo dev’essere.
CRESSIDA	Udite, una parola all’orecchio. Gli sussurra
TROILO	(a parte) O peste e follia!
ULISSE	(a parte) Siete commosso, Principe. Andiamo via, vi prego, ché il vostro sdegno non s’allarghi in termini d’ira. Questo luogo è pericoloso, il momento ben mortale. Vi supplico, andiamo.
TROILO	(a parte) Guardate, vi prego.
ULISSE	(a parte) No, mio buon signore, allontanatevi. Straripate in grande smarrimento. Venite, mio signore.
TROILO	(a parte) Ti prego, resta.
ULISSE	(a parte) Non avete pazienza. Venite.
TROILO	(a parte) Vi prego, restate. Per l’inferno e tutti i tormenti dell’inferno, non dirò una parola.
DIOMEDE	E dunque buona notte.
CRESSIDA	No, ma ve ne andate in collera.
TROILO	(a parte) Questo ti duole? O verità inaridita!
ULISSE	(a parte) Ebbene, che c’è, signore?
TROILO	(a parte) Per Giove, sarò paziente.
(didascalia)	Diomede s’avvia per andare
CRESSIDA	Tutore! Ehi, Greco!
DIOMEDE	Puah, puah! Addio. Voi tergiversate.
CRESSIDA	In fede, non è vero. Vieni qua ancora una volta.
ULISSE	(a parte) Tremate, mio signore, per qualcosa. Volete andare? Esploderete.
TROILO	(a parte) Gli accarezza la guancia.
ULISSE	(a parte) Venite, venite.
TROILO	(a parte) No, restate. Per Giove, non dirò una parola. Fra la mia volontà e ogni offesa sta una guardia di pazienza. Restate ancora un poco.
TERSITE	(a parte) Come il diavolo Lussuria, con la sua grassa groppa e il suo dito a patata, se li stuzzica insieme! Friggi, lussuria, friggi.
DIOMEDE	Ma lo farete, allora?
CRESSIDA	In fede, lo farò, via. Altrimenti non fidarti mai di me.
DIOMEDE	Dammi qualche pegno a garanzia.
CRESSIDA	Te ne porterò uno. Esce
ULISSE	(a parte) Avete giurato pazienza.
TROILO	(a parte) Non temete di me, dolce signore. Non sarò me stesso, né avrò coscienza di ciò che sento. Sono tutto pazienza.
(didascalia)	Entra Cressida con la manica di Troilo
TERSITE	(a parte) Ora il pegno! Ora, ora, ora.
CRESSIDA	Ecco, Diomede, tieni questa manica.
TROILO	(a parte) O bellezza, dov’è la tua fede?
ULISSE	(a parte) Mio signore.
TROILO	(a parte) Sarò paziente; di fuori lo sarò.
CRESSIDA	Tu guardi quella manica. Guardala bene. Egli m’amava—o donna falsa!—ridammela. La riprende
DIOMEDE	Di chi era?
CRESSIDA	Non importa, ora l’ho di nuovo. Non m’incontrerò con te domani notte. Ti prego, Diomede, non venirmi più a visitare.
TERSITE	(a parte) Ora affila. Ben detto, cote.
DIOMEDE	L’avrò.
CRESSIDA	Come, questa?
DIOMEDE	Sì, quella.
CRESSIDA	O voi tutti dèi! O grazioso grazioso pegno! Il tuo padrone ora sta sul suo letto a pensare a te e a me, e sospira, e prende il mio guanto e gli dà delicati baci di memoria—
(didascalia)	DIOMEDE
CRESSIDA	come io ti bacio.
(didascalia)	le strappa la manica
(didascalia)	CRESSiDA No, non strapparmela.
CRESSIDA	Chi prende quella prende con essa il mio cuore.
DIOMEDE	Avevo già il vostro cuore; questa lo segue.
TROILO	(a parte) Avevo giurato pazienza.
CRESSIDA	Non l’avrai, Diomede. In fede, non l’avrai. Ti darò qualcos’altro.
DIOMEDE	Voglio questa. Di chi era?
CRESSIDA	Non importa.
DIOMEDE	Su, dimmi di chi era.
CRESSIDA	Era d’uno che m’amava più di quanto tu farai. Ma ora che l’hai, prendila.
DIOMEDE	Di chi era?
CRESSIDA	Per tutte le ancelle di Diana là in cielo, e per lei stessa, non ti dirò di chi.
DIOMEDE	Domani la porterò sul mio elmo, e affliggerò lo spirito di chi osa, non reclamarla.
TROILO	(a parte) Fossi tu il diavolo e la portassi sul tuo corno, sarebbe reclamata.
CRESSIDA	Bene, bene, è fatto, è passato—e pure non lo è. Non manterrò la mia parola.
DIOMEDE	Allora, addio. Non ti burlerai mai più di Diomede.
CRESSIDA	Non andrai. Non si può dire una parola senza che subito ti faccia sobbalzare.
DIOMEDE	Non mi piace questo scherzare.
(didascalia)	TROILO (a parte)
DIOMEDE	Né a me, per Plutone—ma ciò che non piace a te a me piace di più.
DIOMEDE	Come, devo venire? L’ora—
CRESSIDA	Sì, vieni. O Giove, vieni. Sarò tormentata.
DIOMEDE	Addio fino allora.
CRESSIDA	Buona notte. Ti prego, vieni.
(didascalia)	Esce Diomede
CRESSIDA	Troilo, addio. Un occhio ancora ti guarda, ma col mio cuore vede l’altro occhio. Ah, povero nostro sesso! Questa colpa trovo in noi: l’errore del nostro occhio guida la nostra mente. Ciò che l’errore conduce deve errare. Concludete dunque: le menti governate dagli occhi son piene di turpitudine. Esce
TERSITE	(a parte) Una prova più forte non poteva pubblicare, a meno che dicesse: ‘La mia mente s’è fatta puttana’.
ULISSE	Tutto è finito, mio signore.
TROILO	Lo è.
ULISSE	Perché restiamo, allora?
TROILO	Per fare registrazione alla mia anima d’ogni sillaba che qui fu detta. Ma se racconto come questi due recitarono insieme, non mentirò nel pubblicare una verità? Poiché ancora v’è nel mio cuore una credenza, una speranza così ostinatamente forte, che ribalta la testimonianza d’occhi e d’orecchi, come se quegli organi avessero funzioni ingannevoli create solo per calunniare. Cressida era qui?
ULISSE	Non so evocare spiriti, Troiano.
TROILO	Non c’era, certo.
ULISSE	Certissimamente, c’era.
TROILO	Ebbene, la mia negazione non ha sapore di follia.
ULISSE	Né la mia, signore. Cressida era qui proprio ora.
TROILO	Non si creda, per l’onore della femminilità. Pensa: abbiamo avuto madri. Non dar vantaggio a critici ostinati, pronti senza tema alcuno di depravazione a misurare tutto il sesso sulla regola di Cressida. Piuttosto, pensa che questa non è Cressida.
ULISSE	Che ha fatto, Principe, che possa macchiare le nostre madri?
TROILO	Nulla affatto, a meno che questa fosse lei.
TERSITE	(a parte) Vuol spacconeggiare fino a negare i propri occhi?
TROILO	Questa, lei? No, questa è la Cressida di Diomede. Se la bellezza ha un’anima, questa non è lei. Se le anime guidano i voti, se i voti sono cose sacre, se la santità è il diletto degli dèi, se v’è regola nell’unità stessa, questa non è lei. O follia del discorso, che la causa erige con te e contro te stessol Bifida autorità, dove la ragione può ribellarsi senza perdizione, e la perdita assumere ogni ragione senza ribellione! Questa è e non è Cressida.
(didascalia)	Dentro la mia anima si conduce una lotta
TROILO	di questa strana natura: che una cosa inseparabile si divide più largamente del cielo e della terra, e pure l’ampia larghezza di questa divisione non ammette apertura per cui entri un punto sottile quanto il filo rotto d’Aracne. Prova, o prova, forte come le porte di Plutone: Cressida è mia, legata coi vincoli del cielo. Prova, o prova, forte come il cielo stesso: i vincoli del cielo sono sciolti, dissolti, e slegati, e con un altro nodo, stretto da cinque dita, le frazioni della sua fede, gli avanzi del suo amore, i frammenti, i ritagli, i pezzi e le unte reliquie della sua fede divorata, sono legati a Diomede.
ULISSE	Può il degno Troilo essere anche solo per metà preso da ciò che qui la sua passione esprime?
TROILO	Sì, Greco, e sarà ben divulgato in caratteri rossi come il cuore di Marte infiammato di Venere. Mai giovane amò con anima così eterna e così fissa. Ascolta, Greco: quanto io amo Cressida, tanto, a peso, odio il suo Diomede. Quella manica che porterà nell’elmo è mia. Fosse un elmo composto dall’arte di Vulcano, la mia spada lo morderebbe. Non la tremenda tromba che i marinai chiamano uragano, costretta in massa dall’onnipotente sole, stordirà con più clamore l’orecchio di Nettuno nella sua discesa, di quanto la mia spada incitata cadendo su Diomede.
TERSITE	(a parte) Gliela stuzzicherà per la sua concupiscenza.
TROILO	O Cressida, o falsa Cressida! Falsa, falsa, falsa. Si mettano tutte le falsità accanto al tuo nome macchiato, e sembreranno gloriose.
ULISSE	Oh, contenetevi. La vostra passione attira orecchi qui.
(didascalia)	Entra Enea
ENEA	(a Troilo) Vi cerco da un’ora, mio signore. Ettore a quest’ora s’arma in Troia. Aiace, la vostra guardia, attende per condurvi a casa.
TROILO	Vengo con voi, Principe.—Mio cortese signore, addio.— Addio, bella ribelle; e tu, Diomede, tienti saldo e porta un castello sulla testa.
ULISSE	Vi condurrò alle porte.
TROILO	Accettate ringraziamenti sconvolti.
(didascalia)	Escono Troilo, Enea, e Ulisse
TERSITE	Potessi incontrare quel furfante di Diomede! Croccerei come un corvo. Farei presagi, farei presagi. Patroclo mi darà qualunque cosa per le notizie di questa puttana. Il pappagallo non farebbe di più per una mandorla di quel che farebbe lui per una comoda sgualdrina. Lussuria, lussuria, sempre guerre e lussuria! Nient’altro fa moda. Se li porti un diavolo ardente! Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Hector armed, and Andromache
ANDROMACHE	When was my lord so much ungently tempered To stop his ears against admonishment? Unarm, unarm, and do not fight today.
HECTOR	You train me to offend you. Get you in. By all the everlasting gods, I’ll go.
ANDROMACHE	My dreams will sure prove ominous to the day.
HECTOR	No more, I say.
(didascalia)	Enter Cassandra
CASSANDRA	Where is my brother Hector?
ANDROMACHE	Here, sister, armed and bloody in intent. Consort with me in loud and dear petition, Pursue we him on knees—for I have dreamed Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.
CASSANDRA	O ’tis true.
HECTOR	Ho! Bid my trumpet sound.
CASSANDRA	No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother.
HECTOR	Begone, I say. The gods have heard me swear.
CASSANDRA	The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows. They are polluted off’rings, more abhorred Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
ANDROMACHE	(to Hector) O, be persuaded. Do not count it holy 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.
CASSANDRA	It is the purpose that makes strong the vow, But vows to every purpose must not hold. Unarm, sweet Hector.
HECTOR	Hold you still, I say. Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate. Life every man holds dear, but the dear man Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus, armed
HECTOR	How now, young man, mean’st thou to fight today?
(didascalia)	ANDROMACHE aside
HECTOR	Cassandra, call my father to persuade. Exit Cassandra
HECTOR	No, faith, young Troilus. Doff thy harness, youth. I am today i’th’ 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.
TROILUS	Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you, Which better fits a lion than a man.
HECTOR	What vice is that? Good Troilus, chide me for it.
TROILUS	When many times the captive Grecian falls Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, You bid them rise and live.
HECTOR	O ’tis fair play.
TROILUS	Fool’s play, by heaven, Hector.
HECTOR	How now! How now!
TROILUS	For th’ love of all the gods, Let’s leave the hermit pity with our mother And, when we have our armours buckled on, The venomed vengeance ride upon our swords, Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.
HECTOR	Fie, savage, fie!
TROILUS	Hector, then ’tis wars.
HECTOR	Troilus, I would not have you fight today.
TROILUS	Who should withhold me? Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars Beck‘ning with fiery truncheon my retire, Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, Their eyes o’er-gallèd with recourse of tears, Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn Opposed to hinder me, should stop my way But by my ruin.
(didascalia)	Enter Priam and Cassandra
CASSANDRA	Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast. He is thy crutch: now if thou loose thy stay, Thou on him leaning and all Troy on thee, Fall all together.
PRIAM	Come, Hector, come. Go back. Thy wife hath dreamt, thy mother hath had visions, Cassandra doth foresee, and I myself Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt To tell thee that this day is ominous. Therefore come back.
HECTOR	Aeneas is afield, And I do stand engaged to many Greeks, Even in the faith of valour, to appear This morning to them.
PRIAM	Ay, but thou shalt not go.
(didascalia)	HECTOR kneeling I must not break my faith.
PRIAM	You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sire, 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.
CASSANDRA	O Priam, yield not to him.
ANDROMACHE	Do not, dear father.
HECTOR	Andromache, I am offended with you. Upon the love you bear me, get you in.
(didascalia)	Exit Andromache
TROILUS	This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl Makes all these bodements.
CASSANDRA	O farewell, dear Hector. Look how thou diest; look how thy eye turns pale; Look how thy wounds do bleed at many vents. Hark how Troy roars, how Hecuba cries out, How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth. Behold: distraction, frenzy, and amazement Like witless antics one another meet, And all cry ‘Hector, Hector’s dead, O Hector!’
TROILUS	Away, away!
CASSANDRA	Farewell. Yet soft: Hector, I take my leave. Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. Exit
HECTOR	(to Priam) You are amazed, my liege, at her exclaim. Go in and cheer the town. We’ll forth and fight, Do deeds of praise, and tell you them at night.
PRIAM	Farewell. The gods with safety stand about thee.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Priam and Hector severally. Alarum
TROILUS	They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe I come to lose my arm or win my sleeve.
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
PANDARUS	Do you hear, my lord, do you hear?
TROILUS	What now?
PANDARUS	Here’s a letter come from yon poor girl.
TROILUS	Let me read. Troilus reads the letter
PANDARUS	A whoreson phthisic, a whoreson rascally phthisic 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 rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones that unless a man were cursed I cannot tell what to think on’t.—What says she there? no
TROILUS	(tearing the letter) Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart. Th’effect doth operate another way. Go, wind, to wind: there turn and change together. My love with words and errors still she feeds, But edifies another with her deeds.
PANDARUS	Why, but hear you—
TROILUS	Hence, broker-lackey! Ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Ettore armato, e Andromaca
ANDROMACA	Quando mai il mio signore fu d’umore così poco gentile da chiudere gli orecchi all’ammonimento? Disarmatevi, disarmatevi, e non combattete oggi.
ETTORE	Mi tirate a offendervi. Rientrate. Per tutti gli dèi eterni, andrò.
ANDROMACA	I miei sogni si mostreranno certo funesti a questo giorno.
ETTORE	Basta, dico.
(didascalia)	Entra Cassandra
CASSANDRA	Dov’è mio fratello Ettore?
ANDROMACA	Qui, sorella, armato e sanguinario d’intento. Unisciti a me in alta e ardente supplica, inseguiamolo in ginocchio—ché ho sognato sanguinosa turbolenza, e tutta questa notte non è stata che sagome e forme di strage.
CASSANDRA	Oh, è vero.
ETTORE	Ehi! Che la mia tromba suoni.
CASSANDRA	Nessuna nota di sortita, per amor del cielo, dolce fratello.
ETTORE	Andate via, dico. Gli dèi m’hanno udito giurare.
CASSANDRA	Gli dèi son sordi a voti caldi e stizzosi. Sono offerte contaminate, più abominate dei fegati macchiati nel sacrificio.
ANDROMACA	(a Ettore) Oh, lasciatevi persuadere. Non tenete per santo il far male essendo giusti. È altrettanto lecito, poiché vorremmo dar molto, usare furti violenti e rubare in nome della carità.
CASSANDRA	È il fine che rende forte il voto, ma i voti per ogni fine non devono valere. Disarmati, dolce Ettore.
ETTORE	Statevi zitte, dico. Il mio onore tiene il vento del mio destino. La vita ogni uomo la tiene cara, ma l’uomo di pregio tiene l’onore assai più caro e prezioso della vita.
(didascalia)	Entra Troilo, armato
ETTORE	Ebbene, giovanotto, intendi combattere oggi?
(didascalia)	ANDROMACA a parte
ETTORE	Cassandra, chiama mio padre a persuaderlo. Esce Cassandra
ETTORE	No, in fede, giovane Troilo. Deponi l’armatura, ragazzo. Oggi io sono in vena di cavalleria. Lascia crescere i tuoi nervi finché i loro nodi sian forti, e non tentare ancora gli scontri della guerra. Disarmati, va’—e non dubitare, prode ragazzo, oggi io starò per te e per me e per Troia.
TROILO	Fratello, avete in voi un vizio di clemenza che s’addice più a un leone che a un uomo.
ETTORE	Che vizio è questo? Buon Troilo, rimproveramelo.
TROILO	Quando molte volte il Greco prigioniero cade proprio nel soffio e nel vento della vostra bella spada, voi gli dite d’alzarsi e vivere.
ETTORE	Oh, è gioco leale.
TROILO	Gioco da sciocco, per il cielo, Ettore.
ETTORE	Ebbene! Ebbene!
TROILO	Per l’amore di tutti gli dèi, lasciamo la pietà eremita con nostra madre e, quando avremo allacciate le nostre armature, cavalchi la vendetta avvelenata sulle nostre spade, spronandole a opera di strazio, trattenendole dalla pietà.
ETTORE	Vergogna, selvaggio, vergogna!
TROILO	Ettore, allora è guerra.
ETTORE	Troilo, non vorrei che tu combattessi oggi.
TROILO	Chi mi tratterrebbe? Non il destino, non l’obbedienza, né la mano di Marte che col bastone di fuoco m’accenna la ritirata, non Priamo ed Ecuba in ginocchio, gli occhi escoriati dal ricorrere delle lacrime, né voi, fratello mio, con la vostra fedele spada tratta opposta a impedirmi: nessuno fermerebbe la mia via se non con la mia rovina.
(didascalia)	Entrano Priamo e Cassandra
CASSANDRA	Afferralo, Priamo, tienilo saldo. Egli è la tua gruccia: se ora perdi il tuo sostegno, tu che t’appoggi a lui e tutta Troia a te, cadete tutti insieme.
PRIAMO	Vieni, Ettore, vieni. Torna indietro. Tua moglie ha sognato, tua madre ha avuto visioni, Cassandra prevede, e io stesso son come un profeta improvvisamente rapito a dirti che questo giorno è funesto. Perciò torna indietro.
ETTORE	Enea è in campo, e io son impegnato con molti Greci, proprio sulla fede del valore, ad apparire loro questa mattina.
PRIAMO	Sì, ma tu non andrai.
(didascalia)	ETTORE inginocchiandosi Non devo rompere la mia fede.
PRIAMO	Mi conoscete obbediente; perciò, caro padre, non fatemi svergognare il rispetto, ma datemi licenza di prendere, col vostro consenso e la vostra voce, quella via che qui mi vietate, regale Priamo.
CASSANDRA	O Priamo, non cedere a lui.
ANDROMACA	Non farlo, caro padre.
ETTORE	Andromaca, sono offeso con te. Per l’amore che mi porti, rientra.
(didascalia)	Esce Andromaca
TROILO	Questa sciocca, sognatrice, superstiziosa ragazza fa tutti questi presagi.
CASSANDRA	O addio, caro Ettore. Guarda come muori; guarda come il tuo occhio impallidisce; guarda come le tue ferite sanguinano da molte bocche. Senti come Troia rugge, come Ecuba grida, come la povera Andromaca strilla fuori i suoi dolori. Guarda: smarrimento, frenesia e stupore come buffoni senza senno s’incontrano l’un l’altro, e tutti gridano ‘Ettore, Ettore è morto, o Ettore!’
TROILO	Via, via!
CASSANDRA	Addio. Ma piano: Ettore, prendo congedo. Tu inganni te stesso e tutta la nostra Troia. Esce
ETTORE	(a Priamo) Siete sbigottito, mio sovrano, per il suo clamore. Rientrate e rincorate la città. Noi andremo a combattere, faremo imprese degne di lode, e ve le racconteremo di notte.
PRIAMO	Addio. Gli dèi ti stiano attorno a salvarti.
(didascalia)	Escono Priamo ed Ettore da parti diverse. Squillo d’allarme
TROILO	Ci sono, udite! Superbo Diomede, credi che vengo a perdere il braccio o a vincere la mia manica.
(didascalia)	Entra Pandaro
PANDARO	Sentite, mio signore, sentite?
TROILO	Che c’è ora?
PANDARO	Ecco una lettera venuta da quella povera ragazza.
TROILO	Lasciami leggere. Troilo legge la lettera
PANDARO	Una tisi bastarda, una tisi bastarda e furfante mi tormenta tanto, e la sciocca sorte di questa ragazza, e questo e quello, che uno di questi giorni vi lascerò. E ho anche un catarro negli occhi, e un tale dolore nelle ossa che, se un uomo non fosse maledetto, non saprei che pensarne.—Che dice lei là? no
TROILO	(stracciando la lettera) Parole, parole, mere parole, nulla che venga dal cuore. L’effetto opera in altro modo. Va’, vento, al vento: là giratevi e mutate insieme. Il mio amore lei lo nutre sempre di parole e d’inganni, ma con i fatti edifica un altro.
PANDARO	Ma via, ascoltate—
TROILO	Via, lacchè da mezzano! Ignominia e vergogna perseguano la tua vita, e vivano sempre col tuo nome.
(didascalia)	Escono da parti diverse

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter Thersites in excursions
THERSITES	Now they are clapper-clawing one another. I’ll go look on. That dissembling abominable varlet Diomed has got that same scurvy doting foolish young knave’s sleeve of Troy there in his helm. I would fain see them meet, that that same young Trojan ass that loves the whore there might send that Greekish whoremasterly villain with the sleeve back to the dissembling luxurious drab of a sleeveless errand. O‘th’ t’other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals—that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese Nestor and that same dog-fox Ulysses—is proved not worth a blackberry. They set me up in policy that mongrel cur Ajax against that dog of as bad a kind Achilles. And now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm today—whereupon the Grecians began to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion.
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes, followed by Troilus
THERSITES	Soft, here comes sleeve and t’other.
TROILUS	(to Diomedes) Fly not, for shouldst thou take the river Styx I would swim after.
DIOMEDES	Thou dost miscall retire. I do not fly, but advantageous care Withdrew me from the odds of multitude. Have at thee! They fight
THERSITES	Hold thy whore, Grecian! Now for thy whore, Trojan! Now the sleeve, now the sleeve!
(didascalia)	Exit Diomedes driving in Troilus
(didascalia)	Enter Hector behind
HECTOR	What art thou, Greek? Art thou for Hector’s match? Art thou of blood and honour?
THERSITES	No, no, I am a rascal, a scurvy railing knave, a very filthy rogue.
HECTOR	I do believe thee: live.
THERSITES	God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me—
(didascalia)	Exit Hector
THERSITES	but a plague break thy neck for frighting me. What’s become of the wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at that miracle—yet in a sort lechery eats itself. I’ll seek them.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme. Entra Tersite fra le scorrerie
TERSITE	Ora se le stanno graffiando a vicenda. Vado a guardare. Quel simulatore abominevole di servitore, Diomede, ha là nell’elmo la manica di quello stesso scabbioso, rimbambito, sciocco giovane furfante di Troia. Vorrei proprio vederli scontrarsi, che quello stesso giovane asino troiano innamorato della puttana rimandasse quel greco puttaniere scellerato con la manica indietro alla simulatrice e lussuriosa sgualdrina, con una commissione senza manica. Dall’altro lato, la politica di quei furbi manigoldi spergiuri—quel vecchio formaggio stantio, secco e roso dai topi, Nestore, e quella volpe-cane d’Ulisse—si è dimostrata non valere una mora di siepe. Per politica mi hanno aizzato quel cagnaccio bastardo d’Aiace contro quel cane d’altrettanto mala razza, Achille. E ora il cagnaccio Aiace è più superbo del cagnaccio Achille, e non vuole armarsi oggi—al che i Greci han cominciato a proclamare la barbarie, e la politica cade in cattiva fama.
(didascalia)	Entrano Diomede, seguito da Troilo
TERSITE	Piano, ecco che vengono la manica e l’altro.
TROILO	(a Diomede) Non fuggire, ché se anche prendessi il fiume Stige ti nuoterei dietro.
DIOMEDE	Tu chiami male la ritirata. Non fuggo, ma una prudenza vantaggiosa m’ha ritratto dallo svantaggio del numero. A te, dunque! Combattono
TERSITE	Tieni la tua puttana, Greco! Ora per la tua puttana, Troiano! Ora la manica, ora la manica!
(didascalia)	Esce Diomede incalzando Troilo
(didascalia)	Entra Ettore dietro
ETTORE	Che sei tu, Greco? Sei tu pari a Ettore? Sei tu di sangue e d’onore?
TERSITE	No, no, io sono un manigoldo, uno scabbioso furfante insolente, un sozzissimo briccone.
ETTORE	Ti credo: vivi.
TERSITE	Grazie alla misericordia di Dio, che vuoi credermi—
(didascalia)	Esce Ettore
TERSITE	ma la peste ti rompa il collo per avermi spaventato. Che ne è dei bricconi puttanieri? Credo che si siano ingoiati l’un l’altro. Riderei di quel miracolo—eppure, in certo modo, la lussuria divora se stessa. Andrò a cercarli.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes and Servants
DIOMEDES	Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus’ 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.
SERVANT	I go, my lord. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Agamemnon
AGAMEMNON	Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas Hath beat down Menon; bastard Margareton Hath Doreus prisoner, And stands colossus-wise waving his beam Upon the pashèd corpses of the kings Epistropus and Cedius; Polixenes is slain, Amphimacus and Thoas deadly hurt, Patroclus ta’en or slain, and Palamedes Sore hurt and bruised; the dreadful sagittary Appals our numbers. Haste we, Diomed, To reinforcement, or we perish all.
(didascalia)	Enter Nestor
(didascalia)	with Patroclus’ body
NESTOR	Go, bear Patroclus’ body to Achilles, And bid the snail-paced Ajax arm for shame.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more with the body
NESTOR	There is a thousand Hectors in the field. Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, And there lacks work; anon he’s there afoot, And there they fly or die, like scalèd schools Before the belching whale. Then is he yonder, And there the strawy Greeks, ripe 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Ulysses
ULYSSES	O courage, courage, princes! Great Achilles Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance. Patroclus’ wounds have roused his drowsy blood, Together with his mangled Myrmidons, 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 Troitus—who hath done today Mad and fantastic execution, Engaging and redeeming of himself With such a careless force and forceless care As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, Bade him win all.
(didascalia)	Enter Ajax
AJAX	Troilus, thou coward Troitus! Exit
(didascalia)	DIOMEDES Ay, there, there! Exit
NESTOR	So, so, we draw together.
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles
ACHILLES	Where is this Hector? Come, come, thou brave boy-queller, show thy face. Know what it is to meet Achilles angry. Hector! Where’s Hector? I will none but Hector.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Diomede e Servi
DIOMEDE	Va’, va’, mio servo, prendi il cavallo di Troilo. Presenta il bel destriero alla mia signora Cressida. Uomo, raccomanda il mio servizio alla sua bellezza. Dille che ho castigato l’amoroso Troiano, e che sono il suo cavaliere per prova.
SERVO	Vado, mio signore. Esce
(didascalia)	Entra Agamennone
AGAMENNONE	Rinnovate, rinnovate! Il feroce Polidamante ha abbattuto Menone; il bastardo Margaretone ha Doreo prigioniero, e sta come un colosso brandendo la sua trave sopra i cadaveri sfracellati dei re Epistrofo e Cedio; Polisseno è ucciso, Anfimaco e Toante feriti a morte, Patroclo preso o ucciso, e Palamede gravemente ferito e contuso; il tremendo saettatore atterrisce le nostre schiere. Affrettiamoci, Diomede, ai rinforzi, o periamo tutti.
(didascalia)	Entra Nestore
(didascalia)	col corpo di Patroclo
NESTORE	Andate, portate il corpo di Patroclo ad Achille, e dite a Aiace dal passo di lumaca che s’armi, per vergogna.
(didascalia)	Escono uno o più col corpo
NESTORE	Ci sono mille Ettori sul campo. Ora qui combatte su Galate, il suo cavallo, e là gli manca lavoro; poco dopo è là a piedi, e là fuggono o muoiono, come branchi squamosi davanti alla balena che rutta. Poi è là in fondo, e là i Greci di paglia, maturi per il suo filo, cadono davanti a lui come la falciata del mietitore. Qui, là e in ogni luogo egli lascia e prende, la destrezza obbedendo tanto all’appetito che fa quel che vuole, e fa tanto che la prova stessa è chiamata impossibilità.
(didascalia)	Entra Ulisse
ULISSE	O coraggio, coraggio, principi! Il grande Achille s’arma, piangendo, maledicendo, giurando vendetta. Le ferite di Patroclo hanno destato il suo sangue sonnolento, insieme ai suoi Mirmidoni straziati, che senza naso, senza mani, tagliuzzati e scheggiati vengono a lui gridando contro Ettore. Aiace ha perduto un amico e ha la schiuma alla bocca, ed è armato e all’opera, ruggendo per Troitus—che ha compiuto oggi folle e fantastica strage, impegnandosi e riscattandosi con forza così incurante e cura così senza forza come se la fortuna, proprio a dispetto dell’astuzia, gli ordinasse di vincere tutto.
(didascalia)	Entra Aiace
AIACE	Troilo, tu codardo Troitus! Esce
(didascalia)	DIOMEDE Sì, là, là! Esce
NESTORE	Così, così, ci raccogliamo insieme.
(didascalia)	Entra Achille
ACHILLE	Dov’è questo Ettore? Vieni, vieni, tu prode ammazzafanciulli, mostra il tuo volto. Sappi che cos’è incontrare Achille in collera. Ettore! Dov’è Ettore? Non voglio altri che Ettore.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ajax
AJAX	Troilus, thou coward Troilus! Show thy head!
(didascalia)	Enter Diomedes
DIOMEDES	Troilus, I say! Where’s Troilus?
AJAX	What wouldst thou? DIOMEDES I would correct him.
AJAX	Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office Ere that correction.—Troitus, I say! What, Troilus!
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
TROILUS	O traitor Diomed! Turn thy false face, thou traitor, And pay the life thou ow’st me for my horse.
DIOMEDES	Ha, art thou there?
AJAX	I’ll fight with him alone. Stand, Diomed.
DIOMEDES	He is my prize; I will not look upon.
TROILUS	Come, both you cogging Greeks, have at you both! They fight.
(didascalia)	Enter Hector
HECTOR	Yea, Troilus? O well fought, my youngest brother!
(didascalia)	Exit Troilus driving Diomedes and Ajax in
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles behind
ACHILLES	Now do I see thee.—Ha! Have at thee, Hector.
(didascalia)	They fight. Achilles is bested
HECTOR	Pause, if thou wilt.
ACHILLES	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 shalt here of me again. Till when, go seek thy fortune. Exit
HECTOR	Fare thee well. I would have been much more a fresher man Had I expected thee.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus ain haste
HECTOR	How now, my brother?
TROILUS	Ajax hath ta‘en Aeneas. Shall it be? No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven, He shall not carry him. I’ll be ta’en too, Or bring him off. Fate, hear me what I say: I reck not though thou end my life today. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter one in sumptuous armour
HECTOR	Stand, stand, thou Greek! Thou art a goodly mark. No? Wilt thou not? I like thy armour well. I’ll frush it and unlock the rivets all,
(didascalia)	But I’ll be master of it. Exit one in armour
HECTOR	Wilt thou not, beast, abide? Why then, fly on; I’ll hunt thee for thy hide. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Aiace
AIACE	Troilo, tu codardo Troilo! Mostra la testa!
(didascalia)	Entra Diomede
DIOMEDE	Troilo, dico! Dov’è Troilo?
AIACE	Che vorresti? DIOMEDE Vorrei correggerlo.
AIACE	Fossi io il generale, avresti il mio ufficio prima di quella correzione.—Troitus, dico! Ehi, Troilo!
(didascalia)	Entra Troilo
TROILO	O traditore Diomede! Volgi il tuo falso volto, traditore, e paga la vita che mi devi per il mio cavallo.
DIOMEDE	Ah, sei tu là?
AIACE	Combatterò con lui da solo. Ferma, Diomede.
DIOMEDE	È la mia preda; non starò a guardare.
TROILO	Venite, Greci imbroglioni entrambi, a voi due! Combattono.
(didascalia)	Entra Ettore
ETTORE	Ah, Troilo? Oh, ben combattuto, mio fratello minore!
(didascalia)	Esce Troilo incalzando Diomede e Aiace
(didascalia)	Entra Achille dietro
ACHILLE	Ora ti vedo.—Ah! A te, Ettore.
(didascalia)	Combattono. Achille ha la peggio
ETTORE	Riposa, se vuoi.
ACHILLE	Disdegno la tua cortesia, superbo Troiano. Sii lieto che le mie armi son fuori esercizio. Il mio riposo e la mia negligenza ora ti favoriscono; ma presto sentirai di nuovo parlare di me. Fino allora, va’ a cercare la tua fortuna. Esce
ETTORE	Sta’ bene. Sarei stato uomo molto più fresco, se t’avessi atteso.
(didascalia)	Entra Troilo in fretta
ETTORE	Ebbene, fratello mio?
TROILO	Aiace ha preso Enea. Sarà così? No, per la fiamma di quel glorioso cielo, non lo porterà via. Sarò preso anch’io, o lo trarrò in salvo. Destino, ascolta ciò che dico: non m’importa se oggi porrai fine alla mia vita. Esce
(didascalia)	Entra uno in armatura sontuosa
ETTORE	Ferma, ferma, tu Greco! Sei un bel bersaglio. No? Non vuoi? Mi piace bene la tua armatura. La sfonderò e ne scioglierò tutti i chiodi,
(didascalia)	ma ne sarò padrone. Esce quello in armatura
ETTORE	Non vuoi restare, bestia? Allora fuggi; ti darò la caccia per la tua pelle. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles with Myrmidons
ACHILLES	Come here about me, you my Myrmidons. 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, Empale him with your weapons round about. In fellest manner execute your arms. Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye. It is decreed Hector the great must die. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Achille con i Mirmidoni
ACHILLE	Venite qui attorno a me, voi miei Mirmidoni. Notate ciò che dico. Seguitemi dove giro; non menate un colpo, ma tenetevi il fiato, e quando avrò trovato il sanguinoso Ettore, circondatelo con le vostre armi come in una palizzata. Nel modo più crudele adoperate le vostre armi. Seguitemi, signori, e tenete l’occhio sul mio procedere. È decretato che Ettore il grande debba morire. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Menelaus and Paris, fighting, then Thersites
THERSITES	The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it.—Now, bull! Now, dog! ‘Loo, Paris, ’loo! Now, my double-horned Spartan! ’Loo, Paris, ’loo! The bull has the game. Ware horns, ho!
(didascalia)	Exit Menelaus driving in Paris
(didascalia)	Enter Bastard behind
BASTARD	Turn, slave, and fight.
THERSITES	What art thou?
BASTARD	A bastard son of Priam’s.
(didascalia)	THERSITES I am a bastard, too. I love bastards. I am bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in everything illegitimate. One bear will not bite 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 judgement. Farewell, bastard. Exit
BASTARD	The devil take thee, coward. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Menelao e Paride, combattendo, poi Tersite
TERSITE	Il cornuto e il fabbricatore di corna ci si sono messi.—Ora, toro! Ora, cane! Dàgli, Paride, dàgli! Ora, mio Spartano dalle doppie corna! Dàgli, Paride, dàgli! Il toro ha la partita. Attento alle corna, ehi!
(didascalia)	Esce Menelao incalzando Paride
(didascalia)	Entra il Bastardo dietro
BASTARDO	Voltati, schiavo, e combatti.
TERSITE	Che sei tu?
BASTARDO	Un figlio bastardo di Priamo.
(didascalia)	TERSITE Anch’io sono un bastardo. Amo i bastardi. Son generato bastardo, istruito da bastardo, bastardo di mente, bastardo di valore, illegittimo in ogni cosa. Un orso non morde un altro orso, e perché dovrebbe farlo un bastardo con un altro? Bada: la contesa è funestissima per noi. Se il figlio d’una puttana combatte per una puttana, tenta il giudizio divino. Addio, bastardo. Esce
BASTARDO	Il diavolo ti porti, codardo. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Hector dragging the one in sumptuous armour
(didascalia)	HECTOR taking off the helmet
(didascalia)	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. He disarms.
(didascalia)	Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons, surrounding
(didascalia)	Hector
ACHILLES	Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set, How ugly night comes breathing at his heels. Even with the veil and dark’ning of the sun To close the day up, Hector’s life is done.
HECTOR	I am unarmed. Forgo this vantage, Greek.
ACHILLES	Strike, fellows, strike! This is the man I seek.
(didascalia)	The Myrmidons kill Hector
ACHILLES	So, Ilium, fall thou. Now, Troy, sink down. Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.— On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain, ‘Achilles hath the mighty Hector stain!’ A retreat is sounded Hark, a retire upon our Grecian part.
(didascalia)	Another retreat is sounded
ACHILLES	A MYRMIDON The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.
ACHILLES	The dragon wing of night o’erspreads the earth And, stickler-like, the armies separates. My half-supped sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleased with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed. He sheathes his sword Come, tie his body to my horse’s tail. Along the field I will the Trojan trail.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, dragging the bodies

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Ettore trascinando quello in armatura sontuosa
(didascalia)	ETTORE togliendogli l’elmo
(didascalia)	Nucleo putrefattissimo, così bello di fuori, la tua bella armatura t’è costata così la vita. Ora il lavoro della mia giornata è compiuto. Prenderò buon respiro. Riposa, spada: hai la tua sazietà di sangue e di morte. Si disarma.
(didascalia)	Entrano Achille e i suoi Mirmidoni, circondando
(didascalia)	Ettore
ACHILLE	Guarda, Ettore, come il sole comincia a calare, come la brutta notte viene ansimando alle sue calcagna. Proprio col velo e l’oscurarsi del sole che chiude il giorno, la vita d’Ettore è finita.
ETTORE	Io sono disarmato. Rinuncia a questo vantaggio, Greco.
ACHILLE	Colpite, compagni, colpite! Questo è l’uomo che cerco.
(didascalia)	I Mirmidoni uccidono Ettore
ACHILLE	Così, Ilio, cadi. Ora, Troia, affonda. Qui giace il tuo cuore, i tuoi nervi e le tue ossa.— Avanti, Mirmidoni, e gridate tutti a piena voce: ‘Achille ha macchiato il potente Ettore!’ Si suona la ritirata Udite, una ritirata dalla nostra parte greca.
(didascalia)	Si suona un’altra ritirata
ACHILLE	UN MIRMIDONE Le trombe troiane suonano lo stesso, mio signore.
ACHILLE	L’ala di drago della notte si stende sulla terra e, come arbitro di duello, separa gli eserciti. La mia spada cenata a metà, che avrebbe mangiato di gusto, appagata di questa delicata esca, va così a letto. Rinfodera la spada Su, legate il suo corpo alla coda del mio cavallo. Trascinerò il Troiano lungo il campo.
(didascalia)	Escono, trascinando i corpi

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A retreat is sounded. Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomedes, and the rest, marching. A shout within
AGAMEMNON	Hark, hark! What shout is that?
NESTOR	Peace, drums.
MYRMIDONS	(within) Achilles! Achilles! Hector’s slain! Achilles!
DIOMEDES	The bruit is: Hector’s slain, and by Achilles.
AJAX	If it be so, yet bragless let it be. Great Hector was a man as good as he.
AGAMEMNON	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt marching

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Si suona la ritirata. Entrano Agamennone, Aiace, Menelao, Nestore, Diomede, e gli altri, marciando. Un clamore dentro
AGAMENNONE	Udite, udite! Che grido è quello?
NESTORE	Silenzio, tamburi.
MIRMIDONI	(da dentro) Achille! Achille! Ettore è ucciso! Achille!
DIOMEDE	La voce è: Ettore è ucciso, e da Achille.
AIACE	Se è così, non se ne faccia però vanto. Il grande Ettore era uomo buono quanto lui.
AGAMENNONE	Marciate avanti con pazienza. Sia mandato qualcuno a pregare Achille di venire a trovarci alla nostra tenda. Se nella sua morte gli dèi ci hanno favorito, la grande Troia è nostra, e le nostre aspre guerre son finite.
(didascalia)	Escono marciando

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Aeneas, Paris, Antenor, and Deiphobus
AENEAS	Stand, ho! Yet are we masters of the field. Never go home; here starve we out the night.
(didascalia)	Enter Troilus
TROILUS	Hector is slain.
ALL THE OTHERS	Hector? The gods forbid.
TROILUS	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 at Troy. I say, at once: let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on.
AENEAS	My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
TROILUS	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 Hecuba? Let him that will a screech-owl aye be called Go into Troy and say their Hector’s dead. There is a word will Priam turn to stone, Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, Cold statues of the youth, and 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, I’ll through and through you! And thou great-sized coward, No space of earth shall sunder our two hates. I’ll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy’s thoughts. Strike a free march! To Troy with comfort go: Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
(didascalia)	Exeunt marching
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	A. The Quarto (below) gives a more elaborate version of Thersites’ speech at 5.1.17-21.
THERSITES	Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, loads o’ gravel in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of impostume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i’th’ palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries. B. The Quarto gives a different ending to the play (which the Folio inadvertently repeats).
(didascalia)	Enter Pandarus
PANDARUS	But hear you, hear you.
(didascalia)	Hence, broker-lackey. Strikes him Ignomy and shame
TROILUS	Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Pandarus
PANDARUS	A goodly medicine for my aching bones. O world, world, world!—thus is the poor agent despised. O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so desired 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 in armèd tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths: As many as be here of Pandar’s hall, Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar’s fall. Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. Brethren and sisters of the hold-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
SONNETS AND	‘A LOVER’S COMPLAINT’
SHAKESPEARE’S	Sonnets were published as a collection by Thomas Thorpe in 1609; the title-page declared that they were ‘never before imprinted’. Versions of two of them- 138 and 144—had appeared in 1599, in The Passionate Pilgrim , a collection ascribed to Shakespeare but including some poems certainly written by other authors; and in the previous year Francis Meres, in Palladis Tamia, had alluded to Shakespeare’s ‘sugared sonnets among his private friends’. The sonnet sequence had enjoyed a brief but intense vogue from the publication of Sir Philip Sidney’s Astrophil and Stella in 1591 till about 1597. Some of Shakespeare’s plays of this period reflect the fashion: in the comedy of Love’s Labour’s Lost the writing of sonnets is seen as a laughable symptom of love, and in the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet both speeches of the Chorus and the lovers’ first conversation are in sonnet form. Later plays use it, too, but it seems likely that most of Shakespeare’s sonnets were first written during this period. But there are indications that some of them were revised; the two printed in The Passionate Pilgrim differ at certain points from Thorpe’s version, and two other sonnets (2 and 106) exist in manuscript versions which also are not identical with those published in the sequence. We print these as ‘Alternative Versions’ of Sonnets 2, 106, 138, and 144. The order in which Thorpe printed the Sonnets has often been questioned, but is not entirely haphazard: all the first seventeen, and no later ones, exhort a young man to marry; all those clearly addressed to one or more men are among the first 126, and all those clearly addressed to, or concerned with, one or more women (the ‘dark lady’) follow. Some of the sonnets in the second group appear to refer to events that prompted sonnets in the first group; it seems likely that the poems were rearranged after composition. Moreover, the volume contains ‘A Lover’s Complaint’, clearly ascribed to Shakespeare, which stylistic evidence suggests was written in the early seventeenth century and which may have been intended as a companion piece. So, printing the Sonnets in Thorpe’s order, we place them according to the likely date of their revision. Textual evidence suggests that Thorpe printed from a transcript by someone other than Shakespeare. His volume bears a dedication over his own initials to ‘Mr W.H.’; we do not know whether this derives from the manuscript, and can only speculate about the dedicatee’s identity. His initials are those of Shakespeare’s only known dedicatee, Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, but in reverse order. We have even less clue as to the identity of the Sonnets’ other personae, who include a rival poet and a dark woman. Shakespeare’s Sonnets may not be autobiographical, but they are certainly unconventional: the most idealistic poems celebrating love’s mutuality are addressed by one man to another, and the poems clearly addressed to a woman revile her morals, speak ill of her appearance, and explore the poet’s self-disgust at his entanglement with her. The Sonnets include some of the finest love poems in the English language: the sequence itself presents an internal drama of great psychological complexity.
THESE.ENSUING.SONNETS.	M r .W.H. ALL.HAPPINESS.

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Enea, Paride, Antenore, e Deifobo
ENEA	Fermi, olà! Siamo ancora padroni del campo. Non torniamo a casa; qui passeremo digiuni la notte.
(didascalia)	Entra Troilo
TROILO	Ettore è ucciso.
TUTTI GLI ALTRI	Ettore? Gli dèi non vogliano.
TROILO	È morto, e alla coda del cavallo dell’assassino, in modo bestiale, trascinato per il campo infame. Aggrottatevi, o cieli; eseguite la vostra ira con prestezza; sedete, dèi, sui vostri troni, e colpite Troia. Dico, in un colpo: siano le vostre brevi pesti misericordia, e non trascinate a lungo le nostre sicure distruzioni.
ENEA	Mio signore, sconfortate tutto l’esercito.
TROILO	Non mi capite, voi che mi dite così. Non parlo di fuga, né di paura della morte, ma sfido ogni imminenza in cui dèi e uomini rivolgono i loro pericoli. Ettore non è più. Chi lo dirà a Priamo, o a Ecuba? Chi vuole essere per sempre chiamato barbagianni vada in Troia e dica che il loro Ettore è morto. V’è una parola che muterà Priamo in pietra, farà pozzi e Niobi delle fanciulle e delle mogli, fredde statue dei giovani, e in una parola spaventerà Troia fuori di sé. Ma marciamo via. Ettore è morto; non c’è altro da dire. Ma restate.—Voi vili abominevoli tende così superbamente piantate sulle nostre pianure frigie, sorga Titano quanto presto osi, vi passerò da parte a parte! E tu, codardo di gran mole, nessuno spazio di terra separerà i nostri due odii. Ti perseguiterò sempre come una malvagia coscienza, che modella spettri rapidi come i pensieri della frenesia. Battete una marcia franca! A Troia andate con conforto: la speranza di vendetta nasconderà il nostro dolore interiore.
(didascalia)	Escono marciando
PASSI AGGIUNTIVI	A. Il Quarto (sotto) dà una versione più elaborata del discorso di Tersite in 5.1.17-21.
TERSITE	Ebbene, la sua puttana in maschio. Ora le putride malattie del sud, le coliche, le ernie, i carichi di renella nella schiena, le letargie, le paralisi fredde, gli occhi infiammati, i fegati marci di sozzura, i polmoni ansanti, le vesciche piene d’apostema, le sciatiche, le fornaci da calce nel palmo, il mal d’ossa incurabile, e la rugosa proprietà perpetua della tigna, prendano e riprendano tali scoperte a rovescio. B. Il Quarto dà un finale diverso all’opera (che il Folio ripete inavvertitamente).
(didascalia)	Entra Pandaro
PANDARO	Ma sentite, sentite.
(didascalia)	Via, lacchè da mezzano. Lo percuote Ignominia e vergogna
TROILO	perseguano la tua vita, e vivano sempre col tuo nome.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Pandaro
PANDARO	Bella medicina per le mie ossa doloranti. O mondo, mondo, mondo!—così è disprezzato il povero intermediario. O traditori e mezzani, con che zelo vi si mette all’opera, e come mal vi si ricompensa! Perché il nostro adoperarci dovrebbe essere tanto desiderato e l’esecuzione tanto detestata? Che verso c’è per questo? Che esempio? Vediamo, Tutto allegro il bombo canta finché non ha perduto il miele e il pungiglione, e una volta domato nella coda armata, il dolce miele e le dolci note vengono a mancare insieme. Buoni mercanti di carne, mettete questo sui vostri panni dipinti: quanti qui sono della sala di Pandaro, i vostri occhi, mezzo cavati, piangano alla caduta di Pandaro. O se non potete piangere, date almeno qualche gemito, se non per me, almeno per le vostre ossa doloranti. Fratelli e sorelle del mestiere di tener la porta, fra un due mesi qui sarà fatto il mio testamento. Dovrebbe esser ora, ma la mia paura è questa: qualche oca scorticata di Winchester sibilerebbe. Fino allora sudirò e cercherò qua e là qualche sollievo, e in quel tempo vi lascerò in eredità le mie malattie. Esce
SONETTI E	‘IL LAMENTO D’UN AMANTE’
SHAKESPEARE’S	I Sonetti furono pubblicati come raccolta da Thomas Thorpe nel 1609; il frontespizio dichiarava che erano ‘mai prima stampati’. Versioni di due di essi- 138 e 144—erano apparse nel 1599, in The Passionate Pilgrim , una raccolta attribuita a Shakespeare ma che comprendeva alcune poesie certamente scritte da altri autori; e l’anno precedente Francis Meres, in Palladis Tamia, aveva alluso ai ‘sonetti zuccherini fra i suoi amici privati’ di Shakespeare. La sequenza di sonetti aveva goduto d’una voga breve ma intensa dalla pubblicazione dell’ Astrophil and Stella di Sir Philip Sidney nel 1591 fino a circa il 1597. Alcune opere di Shakespeare di questo periodo riflettono la moda: nella commedia Love’s Labour’s Lost la scrittura di sonetti è vista come sintomo ridicolo dell’amore, e nella tragedia di Romeo e Giulietta sia i discorsi del Coro sia la prima conversazione degli amanti sono in forma di sonetto. Anche opere più tarde la usano, ma è probabile che la maggior parte dei sonetti di Shakespeare sia stata scritta per la prima volta in questo periodo. Vi sono però indizi che alcuni di essi furono rivisti; i due stampati in The Passionate Pilgrim differiscono in certi punti dalla versione di Thorpe, e altri due sonetti (2 e 106) esistono in versioni manoscritte che pure non sono identiche a quelle pubblicate nella sequenza. Li stampiamo come ‘Versioni alternative’ dei Sonetti 2, 106, 138 e 144. L’ordine in cui Thorpe stampò i Sonetti è stato spesso messo in dubbio, ma non è del tutto casuale: tutti i primi diciassette, e nessuno dei successivi, esortano un giovane a sposarsi; tutti quelli chiaramente rivolti a uno o più uomini stanno fra i primi 126, e seguono tutti quelli chiaramente rivolti a, o riguardanti, una o più donne (la ‘dama bruna’). Alcuni sonetti del secondo gruppo sembrano riferirsi a eventi che suscitarono sonetti del primo gruppo; è probabile che le poesie fossero riordinate dopo la composizione. Inoltre il volume contiene ‘A Lover’s Complaint’, chiaramente attribuito a Shakespeare, che secondo indizi stilistici fu scritto nei primi anni del Seicento e che può essere stato inteso come componimento d’accompagnamento. Perciò, stampando i Sonetti nell’ordine di Thorpe, li collochiamo secondo la data probabile della loro revisione. L’evidenza testuale suggerisce che Thorpe stampò da una trascrizione di mano diversa da quella di Shakespeare. Il suo volume porta una dedica firmata con le proprie iniziali a ‘Mr W.H.’; non sappiamo se essa derivi dal manoscritto, e possiamo solo fare congetture sull’identità del dedicatario. Le sue iniziali sono quelle dell’unico dedicatario noto di Shakespeare, Henry Wriothesley, conte di Southampton, ma in ordine inverso. Abbiamo indizi ancor minori sull’identità degli altri personaggi dei Sonetti, fra i quali un poeta rivale e una donna bruna. I Sonetti di Shakespeare possono non essere autobiografici, ma sono certamente non convenzionali: le poesie più idealistiche, che celebrano la reciprocità dell’amore, sono rivolte da un uomo a un altro, e le poesie chiaramente rivolte a una donna ne vituperano i costumi, ne parlano male dell’aspetto, ed esplorano il disgusto di sé del poeta per il suo legame con lei. I Sonetti comprendono alcune delle più belle poesie d’amore della lingua inglese: la sequenza stessa presenta un dramma interiore di grande complessità psicologica.
QUESTI.SEGUENTI.SONETTI.	M r .W.H. OGNI.FELICITÀ.