The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.

And. O! be persuaded: Do not count it holy
To hurt by being jus: it is as lawful,
For we would give much, to use violent thefts,
And rob in the behalf of charity.

Cas. It is the purpose that makes strong the

But vows to every purpose must not hold:
Unarm, sweet Hector.

Hect.
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.
Enter Troilus.

How now, young man? mean'st thou to fight to-
day?

And. Cassandra, call my father to persuade.
[Exit Cassandra.
Hect. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy har-
ness, youth;

I am to-day i' the 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 to-day, for thee, and me, and Troy.
Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,
Which better fits a lion than a man.

Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus 7 chide
me for it.

Tro. When many times the captive Grecians fall,
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
You bid them rise and live.
Hect. O, 'tis fair play.
Tro.
Fool's play, by heaven, Hector.
Hect. How now? how now?
Tro.
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;
Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.
Hect. Fie, savage, fie!
Tro.
Hector, then 'tis wars.
Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day.
Tro. Who should withhold me?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,

Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears;
Nor you, my brother, with your true sword
drawn,

Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way,
But by my ruin.

Re-enter Cassandra, with Priam.
Cas. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast:
He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay,
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,
Fall all together.
Come, Hector, come, go back:
Thy wife hath dream'd; thy mother hath had
Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself [visions;
Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt,
To tell thee-that this day is ominous:
Therefore, come back.

Pri.

Hect.

Eneas is afield;

And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks,
Even in the faith of valour, to appear

This morning to them.

Pri.
But thou shalt not go.
Hect. I must not break my faith.
You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir,
Let me not shame respect; but give me leave
To take that conrse by your consent and voice,
Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam.
Cas. O Priam, yield not to him.
And.
Do not, dear father.
Hect. Andromache, I am offended with you:
Upon the love you bear me, get you in.
TExit Andromache.

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, destruction, frenzy, and amazement,
Like witless anticks, one another meet,
And all cry-Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector!
Tro. Away -Away!

Cas. Farewell.-Yet, soft:-Hector, I take my

leave:

Thou dost thyselfand all our Troy deceive. [Exit.
Hect. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim.
Go in, and cheer the town: we'll forth, and fight;
Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night.
Pri. Farewell; the gods with safety stand about
thee I

[Exeunt severally Pri. and Hect. Alarum. Tro. They are at it; hark! Proud Diomed, be lieve,

I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.

As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other
side, Pandarus.

Pan. Do you hear, my lord? do you hear?
Tro. What now?

Pan. Here's a letter from yon' poor girl.
Tro. Let me read.

Pan. A whoreson ptisick, a whoreson rascally ptisick 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?

Tro. Words, words, mere words, no matter
from the heart; [Tearing the letter.
The effect doth operate another way.
Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change to
gether,-

My love with words and errors still she feeds;
But edifies another with her deeds.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE IV.

Between Troy and the Grecian Camp. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Thersites Ther. 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, on a sleeveless errand.

O' the

other side, The policy of those crafty swearing
rascals,-that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese,
Nestor; and that same dog-fox, Ulysses,-is not
proved 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 to-day; whereupon the Grecians begin to
proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an
ill opinion. Soft! here comes sleeve and t'other.
Enter Diomedes, Troilus following.
Tro. Fly not; for, shouldst thou take the river
Styx,
I would swim after.
Dio.

Thou dost miscall retire;
I do not fly; but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude:
Have at thee!
Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian !-now for thy
whore, Trojau l-now the sleeve, now the sleeve
Exeunt Troilus and Diomedes, fighting.

Enter Hector. Hect. What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hector's match?

Art thou of blood, and honour 7
Ther. No, no:-I am a rascal; a scurvy rail-
ing knave; a very filthy rogue.
Hect. I do believe thee:-live.

[Exit. Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; 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 it[Exit.

self. I'll seek them.

Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles; And bid the snail pac'd Ajax arm for shame.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 scaled sculls 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 every where, he leaves, and takes;

Dexterity so obeying appetite,

That what he will, he does; and does so much, That proof is call'd impossibility.

Enter Ulysses.

Ulyss. O, courage, courage, princes! great
Achilles

Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance:
Patroclus' wounds have rons'd his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangled myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd,
come to him,

Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it,
Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day
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.

SCENE VI. Another part of the Field.
Enter Ajax.

Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy
head!
Enter Diomedes.

Dio. Troilus, I say, where's Trcilus ?
Ajax.
What would'st thou?

Dio. I would correct him.
Ajax. Were I the general, thou should'st have
my office

Ere that correction:-Troilus, I say! what,
Troilus!
Enter Troilus.

Tro. O traitor Diomed!-turn thy false face, thou traitor,

And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse!
Dio. Hal art thou there?

Ajax. I'll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed.
Dio. He is my prize, I will not look upon.
Tro. Come both, you cogging Greeks; have at
you both.
[Exeunt, fighting.

Enter Hector. Hect. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest brother !

Enter Achilles.

Achil. Now do I see thee; Ha!-Have at thee Hector.

Hect. Panse, if thou wilt.

Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan Be happy, that my arms are out of use: My rest and negligence befriend thee now, But thou anon shalt hear of me again; Till when, go seek thy fortune. [Exil. Hect. Fare thee well:I would have been much more a fresher man, Had I expected thee.-How now, my brother 7 Re-enter Troilus.

Tro. Ajax hath ta'en Eneas; Shall it be 7
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
He shall not carry him; I'll be taken, too,
Or bring him off:-Fate, hear me what I say!
I reck not though I end my life to-day. [Exil
Enter one in sumptuous Armour.
Heet. 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,

But I'll be master of it :-Wilt thou not, beast, abide ?

Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. The same.

Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmi Enter Achilles, with Myrmidons. dons;

Mark what I say. Attend me where I wheel:
Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath;
Empale him with your weapons round about;
And when I have the bloody Hector found,

In fellest manner execute your arms.
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye!
It is decreed-Hector the great must die.
[Exeunt,

SCENE VIII. The same.
Enter Menelaus and Paris, fighting; then
Thersites.

Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are At it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now, my double-henned sparrow ! 'loo, Paris, loo! The bull has the game :-'ware horns, hol [Exeunt Paris and Menelaus Enter Margarelon. Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.

Ther. What art thou?
Mar. A bastard son of Priam's

Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards: Il am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing 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 judgment: Farewell, bastard.

Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [Exeunt.
SCENE IX. Another part of the Field.
Enter Hector.

Hect. Most putrified 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! [Puts off his helmet, and hangs
his shield behind him.

Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.

Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
Hect. I am unarm'd; forego this vantage,
Greek.

seek.

Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man
[Hector falls.
So, Ilion, fall thou next! 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 slain.
[A Retreat sounded.
Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part.
Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my

lord.

Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,

And, stickler like, the armies separate,

My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed,

Hector 7-The gods forbid !
Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's
tail,
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the sha.neful
Frown on,

field.

speed You heavens, effect your rage with

Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy !
I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on!

Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the
host.

Tro. 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 call'd,
There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Go in to Troy, and say there-Hector's dead:
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word,
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away:
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
Stay yet;-You vile abominable tents,
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you!-And thou, great.
siz'd 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 thoughts.-
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward wo.
Strike a free march to Troy !-with comfort go;

[Exeunt Eneas and Trojans.

As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other side, Pandarus.

Pan. But hear you, hear you! Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed. Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy and shame [Sheathes his sword. [Exit Troilus. Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt.O world! world! world! thus is the poor Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones! agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how Nestor, earnestly are you set a' work, and how ill reShouts quited! Why should our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so loathed ? what verse for it? what instance for it 7-Let me see :Full merrily the humble bee doth sing, Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting: And being once subdued in armed tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.

SCENE X. The same. Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Diomedes, aud others, marching.

within.

Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that?
Nest
Peace, drums.
[Within.]

Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles!

Achilles !

Dio. The bruit is-Hector's slain, and by Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted

Achilles.

Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be;
Great Hector was as good a man as he.
Agam. 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.
[Exeunt, marching.
SCENE XI. Another part of the Field.
Enter Eneas and Trojans,
Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field:
ever go home; here starve we out the night.
48

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.

Poet. Good day, sir. Pain.

I am glad you are well. Poet. I have not seen you long; How goes the world ?

Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. Poet. Ay, that's well known; But what particular rarity ? what strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant. Pain. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller. Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord! Jew.

Nay, that's most fix'd. Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were,

To an untirable and continuate goodness:

I have a jewel here.

He passes.
Jew.
Mer. O,
O, pray,
sir 7

let's see't; For the Lord Timon,

Jew. If he will touch the estimate: But, for that

Poet. When we for recompense have prais'd the vile,

It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.
Mer.

'Tis a good form. [Looking at the Jewel. Jet. And rich: here is a water, look you. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord. Poct. A thing slipp'd idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourish'd: The fire i' the flint Shows not, till it be struck: our gentle flame Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies Each bound it chafes. What have you there ? Pain. A picture, sir.-And when comes your book forth 7

Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let's see your piece. Pain.

"Tis a good piece. Poet. So tis: this comes off well and excellent. Pain. Indifferent. Poet Admirable How this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power This eye shoots forth! how big imagination

Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.

Poet.

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life,
Here is a touch; Is't good 7
I'll say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How this lord's follow'd!
Poet. The senators of Athens :-Happy men!
Pain. Look, more!

Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood

of visitors.

I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no track behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you ?
Poet.
I'll unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality,) tender down
Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature banging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd

flatterer

To climb his happiness, would be well express'd In our condition.

Poet.

Nay, sir, but hear me on:
All those which were his fellows, but of late
(Some better than his value,) on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
Make sacred even his stirrop, and through him
Drink the free air.
Pain.
Ay, marry, what of these?
Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change
of mood,

Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain. "Tis common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of

tune

Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long;

To build his fortune, I will strain a little, For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise, And make him weigh with her. Old Ath. Most noble lord, for-Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.

More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well, To show Lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended: the Servant of Ventidius talking with him. Imprison'd is he, say you? Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt;

Tim.

His means most short, his creditors most strait:

Your honourable letter he desires

To those have shut him up; which failing to him,
Periods his comfort.
Tim.

Noble Ventidius! Well;
I am not of that feather to shake off
My friend when he must need me.

him

I do know

Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim.
Freely, good father.
Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: What of him?
Gld Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man be.
fore thee.

Tim. Attends he here, or no? Lucilius!
Enter Lucilius.

Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.
Old Ath. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this
thy creature,

By night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift; And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd, Than one which holds a trencher.

Tim. Well what further? Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride, And I have bred her at my dearest cost, In qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord, Join with me to forbid him her resort; Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim.

The man is honest.

Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon: His honesty rewards him in itself,

It must not bear my daughter.

Tim.

Does she love him?

Old Ath. She is young, and apt:

ur own precedent passions do instruct us What levity's in youth.

Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you!

[Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

anon;

Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me Go not away.-What have you there, my friend? Your lordship to accept. Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech

Tim.

Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man;
He is but outside: These penci'd figures are
For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature,
Even such as they give out. I like your work;
And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance
Till you hear further from me.
Pain.
The gods preserve you !
Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen: Give me your
hand;

Hath suffer'd under praise.
We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel

Jew.
What, my lord? dispraise 7
Tim. A meer satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
It would unclew me quite.

Jew.

My lord, 'tis rated As those, which sell, would give: But you well know,

Things of like valne, differing in the owners,
Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord,
You mend the jewel by wearing it.
Tim.
Well mock'd.
Mer. No, my good lord; he speaks the com-
mon tongue,

Which all men speak with him.
Tim. Look, who comes here. Will you be chid 7
Enter Apemantus.

Jew. We will bear, with your lordship.
Mer.
He'll spare none.
Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay for thy good mor-

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: From the Text of the Corrected ...