ACT 1
Scene 1
...chance of war.
Enter Pandarus and 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 field; Troilus, alas, hath none.
...ne’er be mended?
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 unpracticed infancy.
...tarry the grinding.
Have I not tarried?
...tarry the bolting.
Have I not tarried?
...tarry the leavening.
Still have I tarried.
...burn your lips.
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?
...any woman else.
I was about to tell thee: when my heart,
As wedgèd with a sigh, would rive in twain,
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have, as when the sun doth light a-scorn,
Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile;
But sorrow that is couched in seeming gladness
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
...Cassandra’s wit, but—
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 indrenched. 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;
Handiest 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 plowman. 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.
...more than truth.
Thou dost not speak so much.
...her own hands.
Good Pandarus—how now, Pandarus?
...for my labor.
What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with
me?
...one to me.
Say I she is not fair?
...i’ th’ matter.
Pandarus—
... Not I.
Sweet Pandarus—
...end. Sound alarum.
Peace, you ungracious clamors! 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 Daphnes 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 bark.
...Wherefore not afield?
Because not there. This woman’s answer sorts,
For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Aeneas, from the field today?
...home, and hurt.
By whom, Aeneas?
...Troilus, by Menelaus.
Let Paris bleed. ’Tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gored with Menelaus’ horn.
...of town today!
Better at home, if “would I might” were “may.”
But to the sport abroad. Are you bound thither?
...all swift haste.
Come, go we then together.
They exit.
Scene 2
...is a priest.
Enter Troilus and crosses the stage.
ACT 2
Scene 2
...more of it.
Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris and Helenas.
...of her up?
Fie, fie, my brother,
Weigh you the worth and honor of a king
So great as our dread father’s 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!
...tell him so?
You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest.
You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons:
You know an enemy intends you harm;
You know a sword employed is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm.
Who marvels, then, when 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 honor
Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this crammed reason. Reason and respect
Make livers pale and lustihood deject.
...cost The keeping.
What’s aught but as ’tis valued?
...th’ affected merit.
I take today a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will—
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots ’twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment. How may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I choose? There can be no evasion
To blench from this and to stand firm by honor.
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant
When we have soiled them, nor the remainder viands
We do not throw in unrespective sieve
Because we now are full. It was thought meet
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks.
Your breath with 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 pale 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 worthy 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.
...shriek is this?
’Tis our mad sister. I do know her voice.
...qualify the same?
Why, brother Hector,
We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than event doth form it,
Nor 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 honors 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!
...and several dignities.
Why, there you touched the life of our design!
Were it not glory that we more affected
Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defense. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honor and renown,
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame in time to come canonize us;
For I presume brave Hector would not lose
So rich advantage of a promised glory
As smiles upon the forehead of this action
For the wide world’s revenue.
...will wake him.
They exit.
ACT 3
Scene 2
...conduct him thither.
Enter Troilus.
...now, how now?
to his Man
Sirrah, walk off.
...seen my cousin?
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!
...bring her straight.
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 palate 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.
...a new-ta’en sparrow.
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.
...kiss the mistress.
(They kiss.)
...to, go to.
You have bereft me of all words, lady.
...activity in question.
(They kiss.)
...in, my lord?
O Cressid, how often have I wished me thus!
...grant—O, my lord!
What should they grant? What makes this
pretty abruption? What too-curious dreg espies
my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
...fears have eyes.
Fears make devils of cherubins; they never
see truly.
...cures the worse.
O, let my lady apprehend no fear. In all
Cupid’s pageant there is presented no monster.
...nothing monstrous neither?
Nothing but our undertakings, when we vow
to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers,
thinking it harder for our mistress to devise 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.
...they not monsters?
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.
...me for it.
to Cressida
You know now your hostages:
your uncle’s word and my firm faith.
...many weary months.
Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?
...Stop my mouth.
And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.
They kiss.
...leave, my lord.
Your leave, sweet Cressid?
...you, content you.
What offends you, lady?
...mine own company.
You cannot shun yourself.
...what I speak.
Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely.
...with gods above.
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.
...war with you.
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’ center”—
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.
...panders. Say “Amen.”
Amen.
...to death. Away.
Troilus and Cressida exit.
ACT 4
Scene 2
...lies our way.
Enter Troilus and Cressida.
Dear, trouble not yourself. The morn is cold.
...unbolt the gates.
Trouble him not.
To bed, to bed! Sleep kill those pretty eyes
And give as soft attachment to thy senses
As infants’ empty of all thought!
...Good morrow, then.
I prithee now, to bed.
...aweary of me?
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.
...been too brief.
Beshrew the witch! With venomous wights she stays
As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
You will catch cold and curse me.
...doors open here?
It is your uncle.
...I meant naughtily.
Ha, ha!
...you seen here.
Troilus and Cressida exit.
...him hither. Go.
Enter Troilus.
How now? What’s the matter?
...The Lady Cressida.
Is it so concluded?
...to effect it.
How my achievements mock me!
I will go meet them. And, my Lord Aeneas,
We met by chance; you did not find me here.
...gift in taciturnity.
Troilus and Aeneas exit.
Scene 3
...go from Troy.
Enter Paris, Troilus, Aeneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes.
...to the purpose.
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.
He exits.
Scene 4
...a precious loss.
Enter Troilus.
...Ah, sweet ducks!
CRESSIDA, embracing Troilus
...How now, lambs?
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.
...go from Troy?
A hateful truth.
...from Troilus too?
From Troy and Troilus.
...Is ’t possible?
And suddenly, 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 laboring 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.
...the lady ready?
Hark, you are called. Some say the genius
Cries so to him that instantly must die.—
Bid them have patience. She shall come anon.
...to the Grecians?
No remedy.
...we see again?
Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart—
...deem is this?
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 is 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.”
...I’ll be true.
And I’ll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
...I see you?
They exchange love-tokens.
I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet, be true.
...“Be true” again?
Hear why I speak it, love.
The Grecian youths are full of quality,
Their loving well composed, with gift 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.
...love me not!
Die I a villain then!
In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit. I cannot sing,
Nor 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-discursive devil
That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted.
...think I will?
No.
But something may be done that we will not,
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.
...good my lord—
Come, kiss, and let us part.
They kiss.
... Brother Troilus!
calling
Good brother, come you hither,
And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you.
...you be true?
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.
Fear not my truth. The moral of my wit
Is “plain and true”; there’s all the reach of it.
Enter Aeneas, Paris, Antenor, Deiphobus, and Diomedes.
Welcome, Sir Diomed. Here is the lady
Which for Antenor we deliver you.
At the port, lord, I’ll give her to thy hand
And by the way possess thee what she is.
Entreat her fair and, by my soul, fair Greek,
If e’er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Ilium.
...command him wholly.
Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee
In praising her. I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She is as far high-soaring o’er thy praises
As thou unworthy to be called her servant.
I charge thee use her well, even for my charge,
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
I’ll cut thy throat.
...and honor: “no.”
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.
Cressida, Diomedes, and Troilus exit.
Scene 5
...The Trojan’s trumpet.
Enter all of Troy: Hector, armed, Paris, Aeneas, Helenus, Troilus, and Attendants.
...hold thine own!
Hector, thou sleep’st. Awake thee!
...Desire them home.
he then returns with Troilus.
...welcome know. Flourish.
My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep?
...the fair Cressid.
Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much,
After we part from Agamemnon’s tent,
To bring me thither?
...wails her absence?
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.
They exit.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...were not Menelaus.
Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomedes, with lights.
...keep you company.
Sweet sir, you honor me.
...so, good night.
Diomedes exits, followed by Troilus and Ulysses.
Scene 2
...comes to you.
Enter Troilus and Ulysses, at a distance, and then, apart from them, Thersites.
... Enter Cressida.
aside to Ulysses
Cressid comes forth to him.
...whispers to him.
aside
Yea, so familiar?
...with your words.
aside
What should she remember?
...Greek. Good night.
aside
Hold, patience!
...fool no more.
aside
Thy better must.
...whispers to him.
aside
O plague and madness!
...beseech you, go.
aside to Ulysses
Behold, I pray you.
...Come, my lord.
aside to Ulysses
I prithee, stay.
...not patience. Come.
aside to Ulysses
I pray you, stay. By hell and all hell’s torments,
I will not speak a word.
...part in anger.
aside
Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth!
...now, my lord?
aside to Ulysses
By Jove, I will be patient.
...will break out.
aside
She strokes his cheek!
... Come, come.
aside to Ulysses
Nay, stay. By Jove, I will not speak a word.
There is between my will and all offenses
A guard of patience. Stay a little while.
...have sworn patience.
aside to Ulysses
Fear me not, my lord.
I will not be myself nor have cognition
Of what I feel. I am all patience.
...this sleeve.
aside
O beauty, where is thy faith?
... My lord—
aside to Ulysses
I will be patient; outwardly I will.
...This follows it.
aside
I did swear patience.
...not challenge it.
aside
Wert thou the devil and wor’st it on thy horn,
It should be challenged.
...like this fooling.
aside
Nor I, by Pluto! But that that likes not you
Pleases me best.
...done, my lord.
It is.
...stay we then?
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?
...cannot conjure, Trojan.
She was not, sure.
...sure she was.
Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.
...here but now.
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.
...our mothers?
Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
...’s own eyes?
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 itself!
Bifold authority, where reason can revolt
Without perdition, and loss assume all reason
Without revolt. This is and is not Cressid.
Within my soul there doth conduce a fight
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 given to Diomed.
...passion doth express?
Ay, Greek, and that shall be divulgèd 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 on 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 clamor Neptune’s ear
In his descent than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomed.
...for his concupy.
O Cressid! O false Cressid! False, false, false!
Let all untruths stand by thy stainèd name,
And they’ll seem glorious.
...conduct you home.
Have with you, prince.—My courteous lord, adieu.—
Farewell, revolted fair!—And, Diomed,
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head!
...to the gates.
Accept distracted thanks.
Troilus, Aeneas, and Ulysses exit.
Scene 3
...precious-dear than life.
Enter Troilus, armed.
...me and Troy.
Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you
Which better fits a lion than a man.
...me for it.
When many times the captive Grecian falls,
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
You bid them rise and live.
...’tis fair play.
Fool’s play, by heaven. Hector.
...now? How now?
For th’ love of all the gods,
Let’s leave the hermit Pity with our mother,
And when we have our armors buckled on,
The venomed Vengeance ride upon our swords,
Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.
...Fie, savage, fie!
Hector, then ’tis wars.
...you fight today.
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.
...get you in.
This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl
Makes all these bodements.
...dead! O, Hector!”
Away, away!
...thee! Alarum.
They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe,
I come to lose my arm or win my sleeve.
...Do you hear?
What now?
...yond poor girl.
Let me read.
He reads.
...says she there?
Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
Th’ effect doth operate another way.
Go, wind, to wind! There turn and change together. He tears up the paper and throws the pieces in the air.
My love with words and errors still she feeds,
But edifies another with her deeds.
They exit.
Scene 4
...an ill opinion.
Enter Diomedes, and Troilus pursuing him.
...Thersites moves aside.
to Diomedes
Fly not, for shouldst thou take the river Styx
I would swim after.
...Have at thee!
They fight.
...now the sleeve!
Diomedes and Troilus exit fighting.
Scene 6
...say! What, Troilus!
Enter Troilus.
O traitor Diomed! Turn thy false face, thou traitor,
And pay the life thou owest me for my horse!
...not look upon.
Come, both you cogging Greeks. Have at you both!
... Enter Hector.
Troilus exits, fighting Diomedes and Ajax.
...I expected thee.
Enter Troilus.
...now, my brother?
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 I end my life today.
He exits.
Scene 11
...out the night.
Enter Troilus.
Hector is slain.
...The gods forbid!
He’s dead, and at the murderer’s horse’s tail,
In beastly sort, dragged through the shameful field.
Frown on, you heavens; effect your rage with speed.
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smite at Troy!
I say at once: let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on!
...all the host.
You understand me not that tell me so.
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death,
But dare all imminence that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone.
Who shall tell Priam so, or 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 moldeth goblins swift as frenzy’s thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy! With comfort go.
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
...you, hear you!
Hence, broker, lackey! Ignomy and shame
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name!
All but Pandarus exit.