« AnteriorContinuar »
Cas. It is the purpose, that makes strong the vow ;
But vows, to every purpose, must not hold:
Hect. Hold you still, I say;
How now.young man” mean'st thou to fight to-day?
Re-enter CAssa NDRA, trith PRI AM.
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.
ri. Come, Hector, come, go back:
Thy wife hath dream'd; thy mother hath had visions;
Rect. AEneas is a-field;
Pri. But thou shalt not go.
Hect. I must not break my faith.
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:
Tro. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl Makes all these bodements.
Cas. O farewell, dear Hector, Look, how thou diest' look, how thy eye turns pale! Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents!
Hark, how Troy roars! how Hecuba cries out!
Tro. They are at it; hark! Proud Diomed, be
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.
As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other side, PANDARUs.
Do you hear, my lord? do you hear? What now * 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 m bones, that, unless a man were cursed, I cannot j. 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 together.— My love with words and errors still she feeds; But edifies another with her deeds. [Exeunt severally.
Pan. Tro. Pan.
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 var. let, 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 Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send that Greekish whoremasterly villain, with the sleeve, back to the dissembling to: drab, on a sleeveless errand. O' the other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals, that stale old mouseeaten 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 arin !". whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion. Soft here come sleeve, aud t'other.
Enter DioMedes, Troilus following.
Tro. Fly not; for, should'st thou take the river I would swim after. [Styx, 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, Trojan'—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? Ther. No, no: I am a rascal; a scurvy railing 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 frightening 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 itself. I'll seek them. [Exit.
SCENE W.-The same. Enter DioMEDEs and a Servant.
Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse; Present §. steed to my lady, Cressid: Fellow, commend my service to her beauty; Tell her, I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan, And am her knight by proof.
Serv. I go, my lord.
Agam. Renew, renew' The fierce Polydamus Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon Hath Doreus prisoner; And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam, Upon the pashed corses of the kings Epistrophus and Cedius: Polixenes is slain; Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt; Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes Sore hurt and bruis'd: the dreadful Sagittary Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed, To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Enter N Estor. Nes. 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 the fly, or die, like scaled sculls Before the belching whale; then is heyonder, 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 wils, 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 rous'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.
Ajax. Troilus! thou coward Troilus ! [Exit. io. Ay, there, there. Nest. So, so, we draw together.
Enter ACHILLES. Achil. Where is this Hector? Come, come, thou boy-queller, shew thy face; Know what it is to meet Achilles angry. Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
[Exeunt. Scene VI.-Another part of the Field. Enter AJAX. Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, shew thy
mind, bastard in valour, in everything illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastardo Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts indgment: 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. Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek. (Hector falls.) So, Ilion, fall thou next! Now, Troy, sink down; Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy boneOn, 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 trumpetssound the like, mylord. Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth, And, stickler-like, the armies separates. My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.— (Sheathes his sword.) Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; Along the field I will the Trojan trail.
Enter TROILUs. Tro. Hector is slain.
All. Hector?—The gods forbid! Tro. *: dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail, In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shamefulfield.Frown on, you heavens, effect yourrage with speed! Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy: I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destruction on 1 4Ene, 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, Go into Troy, and say there—Hector's dead: There is a word will Priam turn to stone; Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word, Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away: Hector is dead; there is no more to say. #. yet à: . abominable tents, as proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, Let o o as he o P I'll through, and through you!—And thou, greatsiz'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.Strike a free march to Troy!—with comfort go: Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. [Ereunt AEneas and Trojans.
As TRoILUs is going out, enter, from the other side, PANDARUs.
Pan. But hear you, hear you! Tro. Hence, broker lackey ! ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name. [. Troilus. Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones!— Q world! world! world; thus is the poor agent despis'd O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a'work, and how ill requited ' Why should our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so loathed! what verse for it? what instance for it?— Let me see:– Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, Till, he hath lost his honey, and his sing: And being once subdued in armed tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths. As many as be here of pander'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 s: 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.
ACT I. SCENE I.—Athens. A Hall in Timon's House.
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, - at several doors.
Poet. Good day, sir.
Pain. I am glad you are well.
Poet. I have not seen you long; How goes the
Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows.
Poet. y, that's well known: But what particular rarity? what strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magick of bounty! all these spirits thy power Hath coniur'd to attend. I know the merchant.
Pain. I know them both; tother'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:
Jew. I have a jewel here. sir?
Mer. O, pray, 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.
Two Servants of Varro.
Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves, and ttendants.
} Mistresses to Alcibiades.
the Woods adjoining.
Mer. 'Tis a good form. (Looking at the jewel.) Jew. And rich; here is a water, look you. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord. Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum, which dozes From whence ’tis nourished : The fire i'the flint Shews not, till it be struck; our gentle slame 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 1 Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let's see your piece. - 'Tis a good piece.
Poet. Admirable: How this grace Speaks his own standing ! what a mental power #. eye shoots forth! how ...; imagination Moves in this lip ! to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.
Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Poet. I'll say of it,
Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How this lord's follow'd : Poet. The senators of Athens;–Happy men Pain. Look, more! [visitors. Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of 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 slight, bold, and forth on, Leaving no tract behind. Pain. How shall I understand wou? Poet. I'll unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all minds, As well of glib and slippery creatures, as f grave and austere quality,) tender down Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself: even he drops down The knee before him, and returns in peace Most rich in Timon's nod. Pain. I saw them speak together. Poet, Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd : The base o' the mount Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, That labour on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states: amongst them all, Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix’d, One do I personate of lord Timon's frame, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; Whose present grace topresent slaves and servants Translates his rivals. ain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckon'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount 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, £. better than his value,) on the moment ollow 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, Roo. 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 shew, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well, To shew lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head.
Trumpet sounds. Enter TIMON, attended; the Ser-
His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Timl. Noble Ventidius ! Well ;
Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ransome ; And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me:– 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after.—Fare you well. Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! [Exit.
Enter an old Athenian.
Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
im. Freely, good father. Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius. Tim. I have so: What of him? [thee. Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before Tim. Attends he here, or no?—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. #. 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: Qur own precedent passions do instruct us What levity's in youth. Tim. o Lucilius.) Love you the maid? Joo. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it. . Old 4th. If in her marriage my consent be missing, I call the gods to witness, I will choose Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, And dispossess her all. Tim. How shall she be endow’d, If she be mated with an equal husband? [all. Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in future, 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, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my rolinase. Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may That state or fortune ..". my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you! [Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship ! Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: Go not ... Wii have you there, my friend?" Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech Your lordship to accept. Tim. Painting is welcome. The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, He is but outside: These pencil'd figures are 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
Which he shall have: I’ll pay the debt, and free him.