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- The End of an Age: William Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida
- Troilus and Cressida
- Troilus and Cressida
She is the daughter of a Trojan priest who switched sides, and now aligns with the Greeks. However, with their families on opposing sides and due to rife miscommunication, Troilus and Cressida are separated, and Cressida finds herself in the clutches of the Greek Diomedes. Teachers and parents!
The End of an Age: William Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida
The text you requested is loading. This shouldn't take more than a minute, depending on the speed of your Internet connection. Every room Hath blazed with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy. The Same. A street. The Grecian camp. A part of the Grecian camp. The same.
Lists set out. Plains between Troy and the Grecian camp. Another part of the plains. Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again: Why should I war without the walls of Troy, That find such cruel battle here within? Will this gear ne'er be mended? The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill and to their fierceness valiant; 40 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.
Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, 45 I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding. Have I not tarried? Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Ay, the bolting, but you must tarry the leavening. Still have I tarried. Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word 'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the 55 heating of the oven and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. I was about to tell thee:—when my heart, 65 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, 70 Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
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 75 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 80 They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love: thou answer'st 'she is fair;' Pour'st 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, 85 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; 90 But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me The knife that made it.
I speak no more than truth. Thou dost not speak so much. Faith, I'll not meddle in't. 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. Good Pandarus, how now, 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.
What, art thou angry, 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 on Friday as Helen is on Sunday.
But what care I? I care not an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me. Say I she is not fair? I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter. Pandarus,— Pandarus. Not I. Sweet Pandarus,— Pandarus.
Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I found it, and there an end. An alarum] Troilus. Peace, you ungracious clamours! 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 woo'd to woo.
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl: Between our Ilium and where she resides, Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood, Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark.
How now, Prince 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?
That Paris is returned home and hurt. By whom, AEneas? Troilus, by Menelaus. Let Paris bleed; 'tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn. Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day! Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may. In all swift haste. Come, go we then together. Who were those went by?
Queen Hecuba and Helen. And whither go they? Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was moved: 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.
What was his cause of anger? Good; and what of him? They say he is a very man per se, And stands alone. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man 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.
But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry? They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. Who comes here? Madam, your uncle Pandarus. Hector's a gallant man. As may be in the world, lady. What's that? Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of? Good morrow, Alexander. How do you, cousin?
When were you at Ilium? This morning, uncle. What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? Hector was gone, but Helen was not up. Even so: Hector was stirring early. That were we talking of, and of his anger. Was he angry? So he says here. True, he was so: I know the cause too: he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there's Troilus will not come far behind him: let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too.
What, is he angry too?
Troilus and Cressida
Inside the besieged city of Troy,…. Troilus refuses to fight because he is too disturbed by his unrequited love for Cressida. Pandarus, her uncle, complains of…. Cressida gossips with her servant Alexander, and then with Pandarus, who strives to interest her in Troilus. After Pandarus and….
Log In. An actor dressed in armor comes out and welcomes us to ancient Troy, where the Greeks and Trojans have been going at it on the Trojan battlefields for the last Since we're star In front of King Priam's palace in Troy, Troilus calls over his servant to help him take off all his armor. Get your highlighters out, kids, because armor is a major symbol that pops up all over t On a street in Troy, the luscious Cressida hangs out with her servant Alexander, who entertains our girl with some juicy gossip about some key players in the Trojan war.
Read Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida for free from the Folger Shakespeare Library! Full text, summaries, illustrations, guides for reading, and more.
Troilus and Cressida
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Troilus and Cressida Reconsidered R. Foakes bio R. The conflict of views about the play can best be studied in the New Variorum edition, ed.
The text you requested is loading. This shouldn't take more than a minute, depending on the speed of your Internet connection. Every room Hath blazed with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy. The Same.
Troilus, the youngest son of Trojan king Priam, is in love with Cressida, the niece of Pandarus, through whom he is hoping to arrange a meeting. While Cressida watches the nobles and soldiers pass by, Pandarus draws her attention to Troilus, and she is attracted to him.
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