Troilus and Cressida

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— Pandarus Do, do. Cressida

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.

Scene III

The same. Street before Pandarus’ house.

	Enter Paris, Troilus, Aeneas, Deiphobus, Antenor, and Diomedes.
Paris	It is great morning, and the hour prefix’d Of her delivery to this valiant Greek Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus, Tell you the lady what she is to do, And haste her to the purpose.
Troilus	Walk into her house; I’ll bring her to the Grecian presently: And to his hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus A priest there offering to it his own heart. Exit.
Paris	I know what ’tis to love; And would, as I shall pity, I could help! Please you walk in, my lords. Exeunt.

Scene IV

The same. Pandarus’ house.

	Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
Pandarus	Be moderate, be moderate.
Cressida	Why tell you me of moderation? The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, And violenteth in a sense as strong As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it? If I could temporise with my affection, Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, The like allayment could I give my grief: My love admits no qualifying dross; No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
Pandarus	Here, here, here he comes.
	Enter Troilus.
	Ah, sweet ducks!
Cressida	O Troilus! Troilus! Embracing him.
Pandarus	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?” where he answers again, “Because thou canst not ease thy smart By friendship nor by speaking.” There was never a truer rhyme. 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?
Troilus	Cressid, I love thee in so strain’d a purity, That the bless’d gods, as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me.
Cressida	Have the gods envy?
Pandarus	Ay, ay, ay, ay; ’tis too plain a case.
Cressida	And is it true that I must go from Troy?
Troilus	A hateful truth.
Cressida	What, and from Troilus too?
Troilus	From Troy and Troilus.
Cressida	Is it possible?
Troilus	And suddenly; where injury of chance 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: 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: As many farewells as be stars in heaven, With distinct breath and consign’d kisses to them, He fumbles up into a lose adieu, And scants us with a single famish’d kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
Aeneas	Within. My lord, is the lady ready?
Troilus	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.
Pandarus	Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root. Exit.
Cressida	I must then to the Grecians?
Troilus	No remedy.
Cressida	A woful Cressid ’mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?
Troilus	Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart⁠—
Cressida	I true! how now! what wicked deem is this?
Troilus	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, 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.
Cressida	O, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent! but I’ll be true.
Troilus	And I’ll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
Cressida	And you this glove. When shall I see you?
Troilus	I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, To give thee nightly visitation. But yet be true.
Cressida	O heavens! “be true” again!
Troilus	Hear while I speak it, love: The Grecian youths are full of quality; They’re loving, well composed with gifts of nature, 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 afeard.
Cressida	O heavens! you love me not.
Troilus	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, 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.
Cressida	Do you think I will?
Troilus	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, Presuming on their changeful potency.
Aeneas	Within. Nay, good my lord⁠—
Troilus	Come, kiss; and let us part.
Paris	Within. Brother Troilus!
Troilus	Good brother, come you hither; And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you.
Cressida	My lord, will you be true?
Troilus	Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault: Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; 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 Aeneas, Paris, Antenor, Deiphobus, and Diomedes.
	Welcome, Sir Diomed! here is the lady Which for Antenor we deliver you: At the port, lord, I’ll give