Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio
Page 435
Are pleas’d to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits pois’d, each weighs nor less nor more;
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.
Par. You are too bitter to your country-woman.
Dio. She’s bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris: 75
For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian’s life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight
A Trojan hath been slain. Since she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath 80
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer’d death.
Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy;
But we in silence hold this virtue well,
We’ll not commend what we intend to sell. 85
Here lies our way. [Exeunt.
Act IV. Scene II.
The Same. A Court before PANDARUS’ House.
Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.
Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn is cold.
Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I’ll call mine uncle down:
He shall unbolt the gates. 5
Tro. 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!
Cres. Good morrow then. 10
Tro. I prithee now, to bed.
Cres. Are you aweary of me?
Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day,
Wak’d by the lark, hath rous’d the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, 15
I would not from thee.
Cres. Night hath been too brief.
Tro. 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. 20
You will catch cold, and curse me.
Cres. Prithee, tarry:
You men will never tarry.
O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark! there’s one up. 25
Pan. [Within.] What! are all the doors open here?
Tro. It is your uncle.
Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking: I shall have such a life!
Enter PANDARUS.
Pan. How now, how now! how go maiden-heads? 30
Here, you maid! where’s my cousin Cressid?
Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!
You bring me to do — and then you flout me too.
Pan. To do what? to do what? let her say what: what have I brought you to do?
Cres. Come, come; beshrew your heart! you’ll ne’er be good, 35
Nor suffer others.
Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia! hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him!
Cres. Did not I tell you? ‘would he were knock’d o’ the head! [Knocking within.
Who’s that at door? good uncle, go and see.
My lord, come you again into my chamber: 40
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
Tro. Ha, ha!
Cres. Come, you are deceiv’d, I think of no such thing. [Knocking within.
How earnestly they knock! Pray you, come in:
I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA. 45
Pan. [Going to the door.] Who’s there? what’s the matter? will you beat down the door? How now! what’s the matter?
Enter ÆNEAS.
Æne. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.
Pan. Who’s there? my Lord Æneas! By my troth,
I knew you not: what news with you so early? 50
Æne. Is not Prince Troilus here?
Pan. Here! what should he do here?
Æne. Come, he is here, my lord: do not deny him: it doth import him much to speak with me.
Pan. Is he here, say you? ’tis more than I know, I’ll be sworn: for my own part, I came in late. What should he do here?
Æne. Who! nay, then: come, come, you’ll do him wrong ere you’re ‘ware. You’ll be so true to him, to be false to him. Do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go. 55
Re-enter TROILUS.
Tro. How now! what’s the matter?
Æne. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My matter is so rash: there is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, 60
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver’d to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes’ hand
The Lady Cressida. 65
Tro. Is it so concluded?
Æne. By Priam, and the general state of Troy:
They are at hand and ready to effect it.
Tro. How my achievements mock me!
I will go meet them: and, my Lord Æneas, 70
We met by chance; you did not find me here.
Æne. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature
Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt TROILUS and ÆNEAS.
Pan. Is ‘t possible? no sooner got but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad: a plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke ‘s neck!
Enter CRESSIDA. 75
Cres. How now! What is the matter? Who was here?
Pan. Ah! ah!
Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where’s my lord? gone! Tell me, sweet uncle, what’s the matter?
Pan. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above!
Cres. O the gods! what’s the matter? 80
Pan. Prithee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne’er been born! I knew thou wouldst be his death. O poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor!
Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you, what’s the matter?
Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor. Thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus: ‘twill be his death; ‘twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.
Cres. O you immortal gods! I will not go.
Pan. Thou must. 85
Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity;
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me
As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine!
Make Cressid’s name the very crown of falsehood 90
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. I’ll go in and weep, — 95
Pan. Do, do.
Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks,
Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. [Exeunt.
Act IV. Scene III.
The Same. Before PANDARUS’ House.
Enter PARIS, TROILUS, ÆNEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES.
Par. It is great morning, and the hour prefix’d
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus, 5
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And haste her to the purpose.
Tro. Walk into her house;
I’ll bring her to the Grecian presently:
And to his hand when I deliver her, 10
Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there offering to it his own heart. [Exit.
Par. I know what ’tis to love;
And would, as I shall pity, I could help!
Please you walk in, my lords. [Exeunt. 15
Act IV. Scene IV.
&
nbsp; The Same. A Room in PANDARUS’ House.
Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
Cres. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, 5
And violenteth in a sense as strong
As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief: 10
My love admits no qualifying dross;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
Enter TROILUS.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes. Ah! sweet ducks.
Cres. [Embracing him.] O Troilus! Troilus! 15
Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too. ‘O heart,’ as the goodly saying is, —
O heart, heavy heart,
Why sigh’st thou without breaking?
when he answers again,
Because thou canst not ease thy smart
By friendship nor by speaking.
There was never a truer rime. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse: we see it, we see it. How now, lambs!
Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain’d a purity,
That the bless’d gods, as angry with my fancy, 20
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me.
Cres. Have the gods envy?
Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; ’tis too plain a case.
Cres. And is it true that I must go from Troy? 25
Tro. A hateful truth.
Cres. What! and from Troilus too?
Tro. From Troy and Troilus.
Cres. Is it possible?
Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance 30
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our lock’d embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath. 35
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 thievery up, he knows not how: 40
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign’d kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu,
And scants us with a single famish’d kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears. 45
Æne. [Within.] My lord, is the lady ready?
Tro. Hark! you are call’d: some say the Genius so
Cries ‘Come!’ to him that instantly must die.
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root! [Exit. 50
Cres. I must then to the Grecians?
Tro. No remedy.
Cres. A woeful Cressid ‘mongst the merry Greeks!
When shall we see again?
Tro. Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart, — 55
Cres. I true! how now! what wicked deem is this?
Tro. 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, 60
That there’s 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.
Cres. O! you shall be expos’d, my lord, to dangers 65
As infinite as imminent; but I’ll be true.
Tro. And I’ll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you?
Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation. 70
But yet, be true.
Cres. O heavens! ‘be true’ again!
Tro. Hear why I speak it, love:
The Grecian youths are full of quality;
They’re loving, well compos’d, with gifts of nature, 75
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 afear’d. 80
Cres. O heavens! you love me not.
Tro. 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, 85
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-discoursive devil
That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted. 90
Cres. Do you think I will?
Tro. 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, 95
Presuming on their changeful potency.
Æne. [Within.] Nay, good my lord, —
Tro. Come, kiss; and let us part.
Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus!
Tro. Good brother, come you hither; 100
And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you.
Cres. My lord, will you be true?
Tro. Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:
While others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity; 105
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 ÆNEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, and DIOMEDES. 110
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, 115
If e’er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Ilion.
Dio. Fair Lady Cressid,
So please you, save the thanks this prince expects: 120
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,
Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee 125
In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She is as far high-soaring o’er thy praises
As thou unworthy to be call’d her servant.
I charge thee use her well, even for my charge;
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, 130
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
I’ll cut thy throat.
Dio. O! be not mov’d, Prince Troilus:
Let me be privileg’d by my place and message
To be a speaker free; when I am hence, 135
I’ll answer to my lust; and know you, lord,
I’ll nothing do on charge: to her own worth
She shall be priz’d; but that you say ‘be ‘t so,’
I’ll speak it in my spirit and honour, ‘no.’
Tro. Come, to the port. I’ll tell thee, Diomed, 140
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.
; Lady, give me your hand, and, as you walk,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk. [Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMEDES. Trumpet sounded.
Par. Hark! Hector’s trumpet.
Æne. How have we spent this morning! 145
The prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him to the field.
Par. ’Tis Troilus’ fault. Come, come, to field with him.
Dei. Let us make ready straight.
Æne. Yea, with a bridegroom’s fresh alacrity, 150
Let us address to tend on Hector’s heels:
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
On his fair worth and single chivalry. [Exeunt.
Act IV. Scene V.
THE GRECIAN CAMP. Lists set out.
Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and Others.
Agam. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,
Anticipating time with starting courage.
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, 5
Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant
And hale him hither.
Ajax. Thou, trumpet, there’s my purse.
Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe: 10
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek
Outswell the colic of puff’d Aquilon.
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood;
Thou blow’st for Hector. [Trumpet sounds.
Ulyss. No trumpet answers. 15
Achil. ’Tis but early days.
Agam. Is not yond Diomed with Calchas’ daughter?
Ulyss. ’Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait;
He rises on the toe: that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth. 20
Enter DIOMEDES, with CRESSIDA.
Agam. Is this the Lady Cressid?
Dio. Even she.
Agam. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.
Nest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss. 25
Ulyss. Yet is the kindness but particular;
‘Twere better she were kiss’d in general.
Nest. And very courtly counsel: I’ll begin.
So much for Nestor.
Achil. I’ll take that winter from your lips, fair lady: 30
Achilles bids you welcome.
Men. I had good argument for kissing once.
Patr. But that’s no argument for kissing now;
For thus popp’d Paris in his hardiment,
And parted thus you and your argument. 35
Ulyss. O, deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns!
For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.