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William Shakespeare. All works - - The History Of Troilus And Cressida

Проза и поэзия >> Русская и зарубежная поэзия >> Зарубежная поэзия >> Вильям Шекспир >> William Shakespeare. All works
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William Shakespeare. The History Of Troilus And Cressida

1602
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
PRIAM, King of Troy


     His sons: HECTOR TROILUS PARIS DEIPHOBUS HELENUS
MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam


     Trojan commanders: AENEAS ANTENOR
CALCHAS, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks PANDARUS, uncle to Cressida AGAMEMNON, the Greek general MENELAUS, his brother


     Greek commanders: ACHILLES AJAX ULYSSES NESTOR DIOMEDES PATROCLUS
THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Greek ALEXANDER, servant to Cressida SERVANT to Troilus SERVANT to Paris SERVANT to Diomedes
HELEN, wife to Menelaus ANDROMACHE, wife to Hector CASSANDRA, daughter to Priam, a prophetess CRESSIDA, daughter to Calchas
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants
SCENE:

     Troy and the Greek camp before it
PROLOGUE

     TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

     PROLOGUE


     In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece

     The princes orgillous, their high blood chaf'd,

     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 ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,

     With wanton Paris sleeps-and that's the quarrel.

     To Tenedos they come,

     And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge

     Their war-like fraughtage. Now on Dardan plains

     The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch

     Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,

     Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,

     And Antenorides, with massy staples

     And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,

     Sperr up the sons of Troy.

     Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits

     On one and other side, Troyan and Greek,

     Sets all on hazard-and hither am I come

     A Prologue arm'd, 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.
ACT I. SCENE 1. Troy. Before PRIAM'S palace
Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS
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 Troyan that is master of his heart,

     Let him to field; Troilus, alas, hath none! PANDARUS. Will this gear ne'er be mended? TROILUS. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,

     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 unpractis'd 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 needs tarry the grinding. TROILUS. Have I not tarried? PANDARUS. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting. TROILUS. Have I not tarried? PANDARUS. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening. TROILUS. Still have I tarried. PANDARUS. Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word

     'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating

     of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too,

     or you may chance to burn your lips. 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, then she comes when she is thence. PANDARUS. Well, she look'd 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 a storm,

     Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile.

     But sorrow that is couch'd 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 drown'd,

     Reply not in how many fathoms deep

     They lie indrench'd. 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 a 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. Exit. Sound 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 starv'd 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 woo'd 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 call'd the wild and wand'ring flood;

     Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar

     Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.


     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 to-day? AENEAS. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. TROILUS. By whom, Aeneas? AENEAS. Troilus, by Menelaus. TROILUS. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn;

     Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum] AENEAS. Hark what good sport is out of town to-day! 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
ACT I. SCENE 2. Troy. A street
Enter CRESSIDA and her man 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 fix'd, to-day was mov'd.

     He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;

     And, like as there were husbandry in war,

     Before the sun rose he was harness'd 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 Troyan 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 robb'd many beasts of their

     particular additions: he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as the

     bear, slow as the elephant-a man into whom nature hath so crowded

     humours that his valour is crush'd into folly, his folly sauced

     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 every thing; 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 cop'd Hector in the battle and

     struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since

     kept Hector fasting and waking.


     Enter PANDARUS
CRESSIDA. Who comes here? ALEXANDER. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. 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 arm'd

     and gone ere you 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 wit 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 judgment, 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 prais'd his complexion above Paris. CRESSIDA. Why, Paris hath colour enough. PANDARUS. So he has. CRESSIDA. Then Troilus should have too much. If she prais'd him

     above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour

     enough, and the other higher, is too flaming 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 compass'd 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. 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 'twere 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 marvell's 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 laugh'd that

     her eyes ran o'er. CRESSIDA. With millstones. PANDARUS. And Cassandra laugh'd. CRESSIDA. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her

     eyes. Did her eyes run o'er too? PANDARUS. And Hector laugh'd. 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 laugh'd too. PANDARUS. They laugh'd 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. PANDARUS. 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 blush'd, and Paris so chaf'd; and all the rest so

     laugh'd that it pass'd. 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, and 'twere a

     man born in April. CRESSIDA. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle

     against May. [Sound a retreat] 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.


     AENEAS passes
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.


     ANTENOR passes
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 judgments 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.


     HECTOR passes
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? 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.


     PARIS passes


     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 to-day? He's not

     hurt. Why, this will do Helen's heart good now, ha! Would I could

     see Troilus now! You shall see Troilus anon.


     HELENUS passes
CRESSIDA. Who's that? PANDARUS. That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That's

     Helenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus. CRESSIDA. Can Helenus fight, uncle? PANDARUS. Helenus! no. Yes, he'll fight indifferent well. I marvel

     where Troilus is. Hark! do you not hear the people cry 'Troilus'?

     Helenus is a priest. CRESSIDA. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?


     TROILUS passes
PANDARUS. Where? yonder? That's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus. There's a

     man, niece. Hem! 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

     hack'd than Hector's; and how he looks, and how he goes! O

     admirable youth! he never 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. CRESSIDA. Here comes more.


     Common soldiers pass
PANDARUS. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran!

     porridge after meat! I could live and die in the 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 amongst 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 such like, the spice and salt that season a man? CRESSIDA. Ay, a minc'd man; and then to be bak'd with no date in

     the pie, for then the man's date is out. PANDARUS. You are such a woman! A man 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, 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!


     Enter TROILUS' BOY
BOY. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. PANDARUS. Where? BOY. At your own house; there he unarms him. PANDARUS. Good boy, tell him I come. Exit Boy

     I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece. CRESSIDA. Adieu, uncle. PANDARUS. I will 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.

     Exit PANDARUS

     Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice,

     He offers in another's enterprise;

     But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see

     Than in the glass of 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 belov'd knows nought that knows not this:

     Men prize the thing ungain'd 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; ungain'd, beseech.

     Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear,

     Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. Exit
ACT I. SCENE 3. The Grecian camp. Before AGAMEMNON'S tent
Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, MENELAUS, and others
AGAMEMNON. Princes,

     What grief hath set these jaundies o'er your cheeks?

     The ample proposition that hope makes

     In all designs begun on earth below

     Fails in the promis'd largeness; checks and disasters

     Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd,

     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 abash'd behold our works

     And call them shames, which are, indeed, nought else

     But the protractive trials of great Jove

     To find persistive constancy in men;

     The fineness of which metal 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 affin'd and kin.

     But in the wind and tempest of her frown

     Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,

     Puffing at all, winnows the light away;

     And what hath mass or matter by itself

     Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. NESTOR. With due observance of thy godlike 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-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,

     Bounding between the two moist elements

     Like Perseus' horse. Where's then the saucy boat,

     Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now

     Co-rivall'd greatness? Either to harbour fled

     Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so

     Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide

     In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness

     The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze

     Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind

     Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,

     And flies fled under shade-why, then the thing of courage

     As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathise,

     And with an accent tun'd in self-same 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 the applause and approbation

     The which, [To AGAMEMNON] most mighty, for thy place and sway,

     [To NESTOR] And, thou most reverend, for thy stretch'd-out life,

     I give to both your speeches- which were such

     As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece

     Should hold up high in brass; and such again

     As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver,

     Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree

     On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears

     To his experienc'd tongue-yet let it please both,

     Thou great, and 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 lack'd 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 mask.

     The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre,

     Observe degree, priority, and place,

     Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,

     Office, and custom, in all line of order;

     And therefore is the glorious planet Sol

     In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd

     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 shak'd,

     Which is the ladder of 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 melts

     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, with a purpose

     It hath to climb. The general's disdain'd

     By him one step below, he by the next,

     That next by him beneath; so ever step,

     Exampl'd by the first pace that is sick

     Of his superior, grows to an envious fever

     Of pale and bloodless emulation.

     And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,

     Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length,

     Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength. NESTOR. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd

     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 scurril 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 stretch'd 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 unsquar'd,

     Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd,

     Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff

     The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling,

     From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause;

     Cries 'Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just.

    

... ... ...
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