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§ 36. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
SHAKSPEARE.

Love in a brave young Soldier.
CALL here my varlet, I'll unarm again:
Why fhould I war without the walls of Troy,

That find fuch cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan, that is mafter of his heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none.

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The Greeks are ftrong, and skilful to their
ftrength,

Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenefs valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than fleep, fonder than ignorance;
Lefs valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skill-lefs as unpractis'd infancy.

O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus-
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Creffid's love. Thou anfwer'ft, fhe is fair;
Pour ft in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;
Handleft in thy difcourfe-O, that her hand,
In whofe comparifon all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach; to whofe foft feizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and fpirit of fenfe
Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'ft

me,

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Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark, what difcord follows! each thing meets
In mere oppugnancy. The bounded waters
Should lift their bofoms higher than the fhores,
And make a fop of all this folid globe:
Strength fhould be lord of imbecillity,
And the rude fon fhould ftrike his father dead:
Force fhould be right; or, rather, right and wrong
(Between whose endless jar justice refides)
Should lofe their names, and fo fhould juftice too.
Then every thing includes itfelf in power,
Power into will, will into appetite;
And appetite, an univerfal wolf,

So doubly feconded with will and power,
Muft make perforce an univerfal prey,
And laft cat up itfelf.

Conduct in War superior to Action.
The ftill and mental parts;

That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
When fitnefs calls them on; and know, by measure
Of their obfervant toil, the enemies' weight-
They call this, bed-work, mapp'ry, closet war:
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity;

So that the ram, that batters down the wall,
For the great fwing and rudeness of his poize,
They place before his hand that made the engine;
orthofe, that with the fineness of their fouls
By reafon guide his execution.

Adverfity the Trial of Man.

-Why then, you princes,

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Do you with cheeks abafh'd behold our works,
And think them fhames, which are, indeed, nought
But the protractive trials of great Jove,
To find perfiftive conftancy in men?
In fortune's love: for then the bold and coward,
The fineness of which metal is not found
The wife and fool, the artist and unread,
The hard and foft, feem all affin'd and kin :
But, in the wind and tempeft of her frown,
Puffing at all, winnows the light away;
Distinction, with a broad and pow'rful fan,
And what hath mafs, or matter, by itself,
Lies rich in virtue, and unmingled.

Achilles defcribed by Ulyffes.

The great Achilles-whom opinion crowns
The finew and the fore-hand of our hoft-
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
Lies mocking our defigns: with him Patroclus,
Upon a lazy bed, the live-long day
Breaks fcurril jefts;

And with ridiculous and awkward action
(Which, flanderer, he imitation calls)

He

pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,
Thy toplefs deputation he puts on;
And, like a ftrutting player-whofe conceit
Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and found
"Twixt his ftretch'd footing and the fcaffoldage-
Such to-be-pitied and o'erwrefted feeming
He acts thy greatnefs in: and when he speaks,
'Tis like a chime a mending; with terms ofquar'd,
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropt,
Would feem hyperboles. At this fufty stuff,
The large Achilles, on his preft bed lolling,
From his deep cheft laughs out a loud applause,
Cries "Excellent! 'tis Agamennon juft!
Now play me Neftor-hem, and stroke thy beard,
As he, being dreft to fome oration."

Ihat's done as near as the extremeft ends
Of parallels; as like as Vulcan and his wife:
Yet good Achilles ftill cries-"Excellent!
'Tis Neftor right! Now play him me, Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night-alarm."
And then, forfooth, the faint defects of
Muft be the scene of mirth; to cough, and fpit,
And, with a pally fumbling on his gorget,
Shake in and out the rivet :-and at this fport

age

Sir Valour dies; cries-" O! enough, Patroclus, | That were to enlard his fat-already pride,
"Or give me ribs of fteel! I fhall 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 fpeech for truce,
Succefs or lofs, what is or is not, ferves
As ftuff for these two to make paradoxes.
Refpect.

And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This lord go him! Jupiter forbid !
And fay in thunder-" Achilles, go to him."
Neft. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him.

I afk, that I might waken reverence, And bid the check be ready with a blush Modeft as morning, when the coldly eyes The youthful Phoebus.

Doubt.

The wound of peace is furety, Surety fecure; but modeft doubt is call'd The beacon of the wife, the tent that fearches To the bottom of the worst.

Pleasure and Revenge.

Pleasure, and revenge,

Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decifion.

The Subtlety of Ulysses, and Strpidity of Ajax. Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads."

Neft. Yet he loves himfelf: is it not strange?
Ulyf. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Aga. What's his excufe?

Uly. He doth rely on none;
But carries on the ftream of his difpofe,
Without obfervance or refpect of any,
In will peculiar, and in felf-admiffion.

Aga. Why will he not, upon our fair request, Untent his perfon, and share the air with us? U. Things fimnall as nothing, for requeft's fake only,

He makes important: poffeft he is with greatness;
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at felf-breath: imagia'd worth
Holds in his blood fuch fwoln and hot difcourfe,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himfelf: what thould I fav
He is to plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it
Cry, "No recovery."

Aga. Let Ajax go to him.

Dear lord, go you, and greet him in his tent : "Tis faid, he holds you well; and will be led, At your requcft, a little from himfelf.

U O Agamemnon, let it not be fo! We'll confecrate the fteps that Ajax makes, When they go from Achilles: thall the proud lord, That baftes his arrogance with his own feam, And never fuffers matter of the world Enter his thoughts, fave fuch as do revolve And ruminate himfelf-fhall he be worthipp'd Of that we hold an idol more than he ? No. this thrice-worthy and right valiant lord Muft not fo ftale his palm, nobly acquir'd; Nor, by my will, affubiugate his merit, As amply titled as Achilles is, by going to Achilles:

[Afide.

Dio. And how his filence drinks up this applaufe!

[Afide.

Ajax. If I go to him, with my armed hift I'll path him o'er the face.

Aga. O no, you shall not go.

Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheefe his pride: let me go to him.

Ulf. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.

Ajax. A paltry, infolent fellow!
Neft. Now he defcribes himself!
Ajax. Can he not be fociable?
Ulf. The raven chides blacknefs.

Ajax. I'll let his humours blood.

[Afide.

[Afide.

Aga. He'll be the physician that should be the

patient.

Ajax. An all men were o' my mindUlyf. Wit would be out of fashion. Ajax. He fhould not bear it fo;

[Afide.

[Afide.

[afide.

He thould cat fwords first: shall pride carry it? Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half. [ Afide. Ulyf. He would have ten fhares. Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him fupple. Neft. He is not yet through warm; force him with praifes, pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. [Afide.

Uly. My lord,you feed too much on this diflike. Neft. Our noble general, do not do fo. Dio. Youmuft prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulf. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him Here is a man-but 'tis before his face- [harm. I will be filent.

Neft. Wherefore fhould you fo? He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulyf. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.
Ajax. A whorefon dog! that thall palter thus
with us!
Would he were a Trojan !

Neft. What a vice were it in Ajax now—
Ubf. If he were proud?
Dio. Or covetous of praife?
Ulf. Ay, or furly borne:

Dio. Or ftrange, or felf-affected?

Ulf. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet

compofure;

Praife him that got thee, fhe that gave thee fuck:
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice fam'd beyond, beyond all crudition;
But he that difciplin'd thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half: and, for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition vield
To finewy Ajax. I will not praife thy wifdom,
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a fhore, confines
Thy fpacious and dilated parts: here's Nettor,
Inftructed by the antiquary times-
He muft, he is, he cannot but be wife;

1

But pardon, father Neftor; were your days
As green as Ajax, and your brain fo temper'd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.

Ajax. Shall I call you father?
Ulyf. Ay, my good fon.

Dio. Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.

Ulyf. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles Keeps thicket; pleafe it our great general To call together all his ftate of war; Fresh kings are come to Troy: to-morrow, friends, We must with all our main of pow'r stand fast, And here's a lord-come knights from east to west, And cull their flow'r, Ajax fhall cope the best. Aga. Go we to council. Let Achilles fleep Light boats fail fwift, tho' greater hulks draw deep. [Excunt.

An expecting Lever.

No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door,
Like a strange foul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
And give me fwift tranfportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the lily beds
Propos'd for the deferver! O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's fhoulders pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Creftid!

I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.
The imaginary relish is fo fweet,

That it enchants my sense; what will it be,
When that the wat'ry palate taftes indeed
Love's thrice reputed nectar? death, I fear me;
Swooning deftruction; or fome joy too fine,
Too fubtle-potent, and too fharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my ruder powers;
I fear it much; and I do fear befides
That I fhall lofe diftinction in my joys;
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
The enemy flying.

My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulfe;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vaffalage at unawares encount ring
The eye of majesty.

to come

Confiancy in Love protefied. Troilus. True fwains in love fhall in the world [rhimes, Approve their truths by Troilus: when their Full of proteft, of oath, and big compare, Want fimiles: truth tried with iterationAs true as fteel, as plantage to the moon, As fun to day, as turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to the centreYet, after all comparifons of truth, As truth's authentic author to be cited, As true as Troilus, shall crown up the verse, And fanctify the numbers.

Cref. Prophet may you be !

If I be falle, or fwerve a hair from truth,
When time is old and hath forgot itself,
When water-drops have worn the ftones of Troy,
And blind oblivion fwallow'd cities up,
And mighty ftates characterlefs are grated
To dusty nothing; yet let memory,
From falle to falfe, among falfe maids in love,

Upbraid my falfehood! when they have faid-as falfe
As air, as water, wind, or fandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or ftep-dame to her fon-
Yea, let them fay, to stick the heart of falsehood,
As falfe as Creffid.

Fride cures Pride.
Pride hath no other glafs

To fhew itfelf, but pride; for fupple knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.
Greatness contemptible ruben it declines.

'Tis certain, greatneis, once fallen out with for

tunc,

Muft fall out with men too: what the declin'd is,
He fhall as foon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall: for men, like butterflies,
Shew not their mealy wings but to the fummer:
And not a man, for being fimply man,

Hath any honour; but honour for thofe honours
That are without him, as place, riches, and favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit;
Which, when they fall, as being flippery standers,
The love that lean'd on them as flippery too,
Do one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall.

Honour, continued Acts necessary to preferve its
Lufire.

[vour'd which are de

Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
Thofe fcraps are good deeds paft;
A great fiz'd monster of ingratitudes:
As fast as they are made, forgot as foun
As done perfeverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rufty mail

In monumental mockery. Take the inftant way;
For honour travels in a ftrait fo narrow,
Where one but goes abreaft: keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand fons,
That one by one purfue; if you give way,
Or hedge afide from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide they all rush by,
And leave you hindmoft-

Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on: then what they do in
prefent,

Tho' leis than yours in paft, muft o'er-top yours.
For time is like a fafhionable host,

That flightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly,
Grafps in the comer : welcome ever smiles,
And farewel goes out fighing. O, let not virtue feek
Remuneration for the thing it was; for beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, defert in fervice,
Love, friendship, charity, are fubjects all
To envious and calumniating time.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin

That all, with one confent, praise new-born gawds,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things paft;
And give to duft, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dufted.
The prefent eye praises the, prefent object.

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Love fheok off by a Soldier. Sweet, roufe yourself; and the weak, wanton Cupid

Shall from your neck unloof his am'rous fold And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be fhook to air.

Lovers parting in the Morning.

Troil. O Creffida! but that the buty day, Wak'd by the lark, has rous'd the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee

Cref. Night hath been too brief.

Trail. Bethrew the witch! with venomouswights the ftays,

As tediously as hell; but flies the grafps of love With wings more momentary fwift than thought.

Lovers Farewel.

Injurious time now, with a robber's hafte, Crams his rich thicvery up, he knows not how: As many farewels as be ftars in heaven, With diftinct breath and confign'd kiffes to them, He fumbles up into a loofe adieu; And fcants us with a fingle famish'd kifs, Diftafted with the falt of broken tears.

Troilus's Character of the Grecian Youths The Grecial youths are full of quality, They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature flowing,

And fwelling o'er with arts and exercife;
How novelty may move, and parts with perfon,
Alas! a kind of godly jealousy

(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous fin)
Makes me afcard.

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To every ticklish reader! fet them down
For fluttish fpoils of opportunity,
And daughters of the game.

The Character of Troilus.

The youngest fon of Priam, a true knight; Not yet mature, yet matchlefs; firm of word; Speaking in deeds, and deedlefs in his tongue; Not foon provok'd,nor,being provok'd, foon calm'd: His heart and hand both open, and both free; For what he has, he gives; what thinks, he fhews; Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath: Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, fubfcribes To tender objects; but he, in heat of action, Is more vindicative than jealous love.

Hector in Battle.

I have, thou gallant Trojan, feen thee oft, Labouring for deftiny, make cruel way Thro' ranks of Greekish youths: and I have seen

thee,

As hot as Perfeus, fpur thy Phrygian steed,
Defpifing many forfeits and fubduements,
When thou haft hung thy advanced fword i'the air,
Not letting it decline on the declin'd;
That I have faid to fome my ftanders-by,
"Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!"
And I have feen thee paufe, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling.

Achilles furveying Hector.

Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body Shall I deftroy him? whether there, there, there; That I may give the local wound a name; And make diftinct the very breach, whereout Hector's great fpirit flew. Answer me, heavens! Honour more dear than Life.

Mine honour keeps the weather, of my fate; Life every man holds dear; but the brave man Holds honour far more precious-dear than life. Pity to be difcarded in War. For the love of all the gods

Let's leave the hermit pity with our mother; And when we have our armours buckled on, The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords!

Raf Vows.

The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; They are polluted cfferings, more abhorr'd Than fpotted livers in the facrifice.

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

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I fee thee here, and fcarce believe mine eyes.
Der. Is it foftrange to find me where my wrongs,
And your inhuman tyranny, have fent me?
Think not you dream: or, if you did, my injuries
Shall call fo loud, that lethargy fhould wake;
And death fhould give you back to answer me.
A thoufand nights have brush'd their balmy wings
Over thefe eyes; but ever when they clos'd,
Your tyrant image forc'd them ope again,
And dried the dews they brought.
The long-expected hour is come at length,
By manly vengeance to redeem my fame :
And, that once clear'd, eternal fleep is welcome.
Seb. I have not yet forgot I am a king,
Whose royal office is redrefs of wrongs:
If I have wrong'd thee, charge me face to face;
I have not yet forgot I am a foldier.

Dor. 'Tis the firit juftice thou haft ever done me; Then, tho I loathe this woman's war of tongue, Yet fhall my caufe of vengeance first be clear: And, Honour, be thou judge.

Seb. Honour befriend us both. Beware, I warn thee yet to tell thy griefs In terms becoming majefty to hear: I warn thee thus, because I know thy temper Is infolent and haughty to fuperiors: How often haft thou brav'd my peaceful court, Fill'd it with noify brawls, and windy boasts; And with past service, nauscously repeated, Reproach'd even me, thy prince!

Dor. And well I might, whenyou forgot reward, The part of Heaven in kings: for punishment Is hangman's work, and drudgery for devils. I muft and will reproach thee with my fervice, Tyrant (it irks me fo to call my prince), But juft refentment and hard ufage coin'd Th'unwilling word; and, grating as it is, Take it, for 'tis thy due.

Seb. How, tyrant!

Dor. Tvrant!

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PIECES.

| And hurried me from hopes of heaven to hell;
When I fhall rife to plead before the faints,
All thefe, and all my yet unfinish'd crimes,
I charge on thee to make thy damning fure.

Seb. Thy old prefumptuous arrogance again,
That bred my firft diflike, and then my loathing.
Once more be warn'd, and know me for thy king.
Dor. Too well I know thec, but for king no more:
This is not Lisbon, nor the circle this
Where like a ftatue thou haft ftood befieg'd
By fycophants, and fools, the growth of courts;
Where thy gull'd eyes in all the gaudy round
Met nothing but a lye in every face;
And the grofs flattery of a gaping crowd,
Envious who firft fhould catch and firft applaud
The ftuff or royal nonfenfe: when I spoke,
My honeft homely words were carp'd and cenfur'd,
For want of courtly style: related actions,
Though modeftly reported, pafs'd for boasts:
Secure of merit, if I afk'd reward,

Thy hungry minions thought their rights invaded,
And the bread fnatch'd from pimps and parafites.
Henriquez anfwered, with a ready lye,
To fave his king's, the boon was begg'd before.
Seb. What fay 'ft thou of Henriquez? Now by

Heaven

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That thing, that nothing but a cringe and fmile; That woman, but more daub'd; or, if a man, Corrupted to a woman; thy man-mistress.

Seb. All falfe as hell, or thou.

Dor. Yes; full as falfe

As that I ferv'd thee fifteen hard campaigns, And pitch'd thy standard in those foreign fields: By me thy greatnefs grew, thy years grew with it. But thy ingratitude outgrew them both.

Seb. I fee to what thou tend'ft; but tell me firft, If thofe great acts were done alone for me; If love produc'd not fome, and pride the reft?

Dor. Why, love does all that's noble here below: But all th' advantage of that love was thine: For, coming fraughted back, in either hand With palm and olive, victory and peace, I was indeed prepar'd to afk my own (For Violante's vows were mine before): Thy malice had prevention, ere I fpoke; And afk'd me Violante for Henriquez.

Seb. I meant thee a reward of greater worth. Dor. Where juftice wanted, could reward be hop'd?

Could the robb'd paffenger expect a bounty From thofe rapacious hands whoftripp'd him first? Seb. He had my promife, ere I knew thy love. Dor. My fervices deferv'd thou fhouldft revoke it.

Seb.

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