The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: gg3r (+/-) - Tragedies, p. [p1]

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The Prologue. IN Troy there lyes the Scene; From Iles of Greece The Princes Origillous, their high blood chaf'd Haue to the port of Athens sent their shippes Fraught with the ministers and instruments
[5]
Of cruell Warre: Sixty and nine that wore Their Crownets Regall, from th'Athenian bay Put forth toward Phrygia, and their vow is made To ransacke Troy, within whose strong emures The rauish'd Helen, Menelaus Queene,
[10]
With wanton Paris Sleepes, and that's the Quarrell. To Tenedos they come, And the deepe‑drawing Barke do there disgorge Their warlike frautage: now on Dardan Plaines The fresh and yet vnbruised Greekes do pitch
[15]
Their braue Pauillions. Priams six‑gated City, Dardan and Timbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien, And Antenonidus with massie Staples And corresponsiue and fulfilling Bolts Stirre vp the Sonnes of Troy.
[20]
Now Expectaton tickling skittish spirits, On one and other side, Troian and Greeke, Sets all on hazard. And hither am I come, A Prologue arm'd, but not in confidence Of Authors pen, or Actors voyce; but suited
[25]
In like conditions, as our Argument; To tell you (faire Beholders) that our Play Leapes ore the vaunt and firstlings of those broyles, Beginning in the middle. Starting thence away, To What may be digested in a Play:
[30]
Like or finde fault, do as your pleasures are, Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of Warre.

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THE TRAGEDIE OF Troylus and Cressida. Actus Primus. Scœna Prima. [Act 1, Scene 1] Enter Pandarus and Troylus. Troylus. CAll here my Varlet, Ile vnarme againe. Why should I warre without the wals of Troy That finde such cruell battell here within?
[35]
Each Troian that is matter of his heart, Let him to field, Troylus alas hath none.
Pan. Will this geere nere be mended? Troy. The Greeks are strong, & skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenesse Valiant:
[40]
But I am weaker then a womans teare; Tamer then sleepe, fonder then ignorance; Lesse valiant then the Virgin in the night, And skillesse as vnpractis'd Infancie.
Pan.

Well, I haue told you enough of this: For my

[45]

part, Ile not meddle nor make no farther. Hee that will

haue a Cake out of the Wheate, must needes tarry the

grinding.

Troy.

Haue I not tarried?

Pan.

I the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.

Troy.
[50]

Haue I not tarried?

Pan.

I the boulting; but you must tarry the leau'ing.

Troy.

Still haue I tarried.

Pan.

I, to the leauening: but heeres yet in the word

hereafter, the Kneading, the making of the Cake, the

[55]

heating of the Ouen, and the Baking; nay, you must stay

the cooling too, or you may chance to burne your lips.

Troy. Patience her selfe, what Goddesse ere she be, Doth lesser blench at sufferance, then I doe: At Priams Royall Table doe I sit;
[60]
And when faire Cressid comes into my thoughts, So (Traitor) then she comes, when she is thence.
Pan. Well: She look'd yesternight fairer, then euer I saw her looke, Or any woman else. Troy.
[65]
I was about to tell thee, when my heart, As wedged with a sigh, would riue in twaine, Least Hector, or my Father should perceiue me: I haue (as when the Sunne doth light a‑scorne) Buried this sigh, in wrinkle of a smile:
[70]
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladnesse, Is like that mirth, Fate turnes to sudden sadnesse.
Pan.

And her haire were not somewhat darker then

Helens, Well go too, there were no more comparison be‑tweene the Women. But for my part she is my Kinswo­

man, I would not (as they tearme it) praise it, but I wold

[75]

some‑body had heard her talke yesterday as I did: I will

not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but⸺

Troy. Oh Pandarus! I tell thee Pandarus; When I doe tell thee, there my hopes lye drown'd: Reply not inhow many Fadomes deepe
[80]
They lye indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad In Cressids loue. Thou answer'st she is Faire, Powr'st in the open Vlcer of my heart, Her Eyes, her Haire, her Cheeke, her Gate her Voice, Handlest in thy discourse. O that her Hand
[85]
(In whose comparison, all whites are Inke) Writing their owne reproach; to whose soft seizure, The Cignits Downe is harsh, and spirit of Sense Hard as the palme of Plough‑man. This thou tel'st me; As true thou tel'st me, when I say I loue her
[90]
But saying thus, instead of Oyle and Balme, Thou lai'st in euery gash that loue hath giuen me, The Knife that made it.
Pan.

I speake no more then truth.

Troy. Thou do'st not speake so much. Pan.
[95]

Faith, Ile not meddle in't: Let her be as shee is

if she be faire, 'tis the better for her: and she be not, she

ha's the mends in her owne hands.

Troy.

Good Pandarus: How now Pandarus?

Pan.

I haue had my Labour for my trauell, ill thought

[100]

on of her, and ill thought on of you: Gone betweene and

betweene, but small thankes for my labour.

Troy.

What art thou angry Pandarus? what with me?

Pan.

Because she's Kinne to me, therefore shee's not

so faire as Helen, and she were not kin to me, she would

[105]

be as faire on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what

care I? I care not and she were a Black‑a‑Moore, 'tis all

one to me.

Troy.

Say I she is not faire?

Troy.

I doe not care whether you doe or no. Shee's a

[110]

Foole to stay behinde her Father: Let her to the Greeks,

and so Ile tell her the next time I see her: for my part, Ile

meddle nor make no more i'th'matter.

Troy.

Pandarus?

Pan.

Not I.

Troy.
[115]

Sweete Pandarus.

Pan.

Pray you speake no more to me, I will leaue all

as I found it, and there an end.

Exit Pand. Sound Alarum. Tro. Peace you vngracious Clamors, peace rude sounds, Fooles on both sides, Helen must needs be faire,
[120]
When with your bloud you daily paint her thus. I cannot fight vpon this Argument: It is too staru'd a subiect for my Sword, But Pandarus: O Gods! How do you plague me? I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar,
[125]
And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woe, As she is stubborne, chast, against all suite. Tell me Appollo for thy Daphnes Loue What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we: Her bed is India, there she lies, a Pearle,
[130]
Between our Ilium, and where shee recides Let it be cald the wild and wandring flood, Our selfe the Merchant, and this sayling Pandar, Our doubtfull hope, our conuoy and our Barke.
Alarum. Enter Æneas. Æne. How now Prince Troylus?
[135]
Wherefore not a field?
Troy. Because not there; this womans answer sorts. For womanish it is to from thence: What newes Æneas from the field to day? Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. Troy.
[140]
By whom Æneas?
Æne. Troylus by Menelaus. Troy. Let Paris bleed 'tis but a scar to scorne, Paris is gor'd with Menelaus horne. Alarum. Æne. Harke what good sport is out of Towne to day. Troy.
[145]
Better at home, if would I might were may: But to the sport abroad, are you bound thither?
Æne. In all swift hast. Troy. Come goe wee then togither. Exeunt.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="1">
   <pb facs="FFimg:axc0590-0.jpg"/>
   <head rend="center">THE TRAGEDIE OF
      <lb/>Troylus and Cressida.</head>
   <head rend="italic center">Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 1, Scene 1]</head>
   <cb n="1"/>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Pandarus and Troylus.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic center">Troylus.</speaker>
      <l n="32">
         <c rend="decoratedCapital">C</c>All here my Varlet, Ile vnarme againe.</l>
      <l n="33">Why should I warre without the wals of Troy</l>
      <l n="34">That finde such cruell battell here within?</l>
      <l n="35">Each Troian that is matter of his heart,</l>
      <l n="36">Let him to field,<hi rend="italic">Troylus</hi>alas hath none.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <l n="37">Will this geere nere be mended?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="38">The Greeks are strong, &amp; skilful to their strength,</l>
      <l n="39">Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenesse Valiant:</l>
      <l n="40">But I am weaker then a womans teare;</l>
      <l n="41">Tamer then sleepe, fonder then ignorance;</l>
      <l n="42">Lesse valiant then the Virgin in the night,</l>
      <l n="43">And skillesse as vnpractis'd Infancie.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="44">Well, I haue told you enough of this: For my
      <lb n="45"/>part, Ile not meddle nor make no farther. Hee that will
      <lb n="46"/>haue a Cake out of the Wheate, must needes tarry the
      <lb n="47"/>grinding.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p n="48">Haue I not tarried?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="49">I the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p n="50">Haue I not tarried?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="51">I the boulting; but you must tarry the leau'ing.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p n="52">Still haue I tarried.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="53">I, to the leauening: but heeres yet in the word
      <lb n="54"/>hereafter, the Kneading, the making of the Cake, the
      <lb n="55"/>heating of the Ouen, and the Baking; nay, you must stay
      <lb n="56"/>the cooling too, or you may chance to burne your lips.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="57">Patience her selfe, what Goddesse ere she be,</l>
      <l n="58">Doth lesser blench at sufferance, then I doe:</l>
      <l n="59">At<hi rend="italic">Priams</hi>Royall Table doe I sit;</l>
      <l n="60">And when faire<hi rend="italic">Cressid</hi>comes into my thoughts,</l>
      <l n="61">So (Traitor) then she comes, when she is thence.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <l n="62">Well:</l>
      <l n="63">She look'd yesternight fairer, then euer I saw her looke,</l>
      <l n="64">Or any woman else.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="65">I was about to tell thee, when my heart,</l>
      <l n="66">As wedged with a sigh, would riue in twaine,</l>
      <l n="67">Least<hi rend="italic">Hector</hi>, or my Father should perceiue me:</l>
      <l n="68">I haue (as when the Sunne doth light a‑scorne)</l>
      <l n="69">Buried this sigh, in wrinkle of a smile:</l>
      <l n="70">But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladnesse,</l>
      <l n="71">Is like that mirth, Fate turnes to sudden sadnesse.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="72">And her haire were not somewhat darker then
      <lb n="73"/>
         <hi rend="italic">Helens</hi>, Well go too, there were no more comparison be‑tweene the Women. But for my part she is my Kinswo­
      <lb n="74"/>man, I would not (as they tearme it) praise it, but I wold<cb n="2"/>
         
      <lb n="75"/>some‑body had heard her talke yesterday as I did: I will
      <lb n="76"/>not dispraise your sister<hi rend="italic">Cassandra's</hi>wit, but⸺</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="77">Oh<hi rend="italic">Pandarus</hi>! I tell thee<hi rend="italic">Pandarus;</hi>
      </l>
      <l n="78">When I doe tell thee, there my hopes lye drown'd:</l>
      <l n="79">Reply not inhow many Fadomes deepe</l>
      <l n="80">They lye indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad</l>
      <l n="81">In<hi rend="italic">Cressids</hi>loue. Thou answer'st she is Faire,</l>
      <l n="82">Powr'st in the open Vlcer of my heart,</l>
      <l n="83">Her Eyes, her Haire, her Cheeke, her Gate her Voice,</l>
      <l n="84">Handlest in thy discourse. O that her Hand</l>
      <l n="85">(In whose comparison, all whites are Inke)</l>
      <l n="86">Writing their owne reproach; to whose soft seizure,</l>
      <l n="87">The Cignits Downe is harsh, and spirit of Sense</l>
      <l n="88">Hard as the palme of Plough‑man. This thou tel'st me;</l>
      <l n="89">As true thou tel'st me, when I say I loue her</l>
      <l n="90">But saying thus, instead of Oyle and Balme,</l>
      <l n="91">Thou lai'st in euery gash that loue hath giuen me,</l>
      <l n="92">The Knife that made it.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="93">I speake no more then truth.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="94">Thou do'st not speake so much.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="95">Faith, Ile not meddle in't: Let her be as shee is
      <lb n="96"/>if she be faire, 'tis the better for her: and she be not, she
      <lb n="97"/>ha's the mends in her owne hands.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p n="98">Good<hi rend="italic">Pandarus</hi>: How now<hi rend="italic">Pandarus?</hi>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="99">I haue had my Labour for my trauell, ill thought
      <lb n="100"/>on of her, and ill thought on of you: Gone betweene and
      <lb n="101"/>betweene, but small thankes for my labour.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p n="102">What art thou angry<hi rend="italic">Pandarus</hi>? what with me?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="103">Because she's Kinne to me, therefore shee's not
      <lb n="104"/>so faire as<hi rend="italic">Helen</hi>, and she were not kin to me, she would
      <lb n="105"/>be as faire on Friday, as<hi rend="italic">Helen</hi>is on Sunday. But what
      <lb n="106"/>care I? I care not and she were a Black‑a‑Moore, 'tis all
      <lb n="107"/>one to me.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p n="108">Say I she is not faire?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p n="109">I doe not care whether you doe or no. Shee's a
      <lb n="110"/>Foole to stay behinde her Father: Let her to the Greeks,
      <lb n="111"/>and so Ile tell her the next time I see her: for my part, Ile
      <lb n="112"/>meddle nor make no more i'th'matter.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p rend="italic" n="113">Pandarus?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="114">Not I.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p n="115">Sweete<hi rend="italic">Pandarus</hi>.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="116">Pray you speake no more to me, I will leaue all
      <lb n="117"/>as I found it, and there an end.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic inline" type="exit">Exit Pand.</stage>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="business">Sound Alarum.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Tro.</speaker>
      <l n="118">Peace you vngracious Clamors, peace rude sounds,</l>
      <l n="119">Fooles on both sides,<hi rend="italic">Helen</hi>must needs be faire,</l>
      <l n="120">When with your bloud you daily paint her thus.</l>
      <l n="121">I cannot fight vpon this Argument:</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0591-0.jpg" n="79"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="122">It is too staru'd a subiect for my Sword,</l>
      <l n="123">But<hi rend="italic">Pandarus</hi>: O Gods! How do you plague me?</l>
      <l n="124">I cannot come to<hi rend="italic">Cressid</hi>but by<hi rend="italic">Pandar</hi>,</l>
      <l n="125">And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woe,</l>
      <l n="126">As she is stubborne, chast, against all suite.</l>
      <l n="127">Tell me<hi rend="italic">Appollo</hi>for thy<hi rend="italic">Daphnes</hi>Loue</l>
      <l n="128">What<hi rend="italic">Cressid</hi>is, what<hi rend="italic">Pandar</hi>, and what we:</l>
      <l n="129">Her bed is<hi rend="italic">India</hi>, there she lies, a Pearle,</l>
      <l n="130">Between our Ilium, and where shee recides</l>
      <l n="131">Let it be cald the wild and wandring flood,</l>
      <l n="132">Our selfe the Merchant, and this sayling<hi rend="italic">Pandar</hi>,</l>
      <l n="133">Our doubtfull hope, our conuoy and our Barke.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="business">Alarum.</stage>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Æneas.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tro-aen">
      <speaker rend="italic">Æne.</speaker>
      <l n="134">How now Prince<hi rend="italic">Troylus</hi>?</l>
      <l n="135">Wherefore not a field?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="136">Because not there; this womans answer sorts.</l>
      <l n="137">For womanish it is to from thence:</l>
      <l n="138">What newes<hi rend="italic">Æneas</hi>from the field to day?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-aen">
      <speaker rend="italic">Æne.</speaker>
      <l n="139">That<hi rend="italic">Paris</hi>is returned home, and hurt.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="140">By whom<hi rend="italic">Æneas?</hi>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-aen">
      <speaker rend="italic">Æne.</speaker>
      <l n="141">
         <hi rend="italic">Troylus</hi>by<hi rend="italic">Menelaus</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="142">Let<hi rend="italic">Paris</hi>bleed 'tis but a scar to scorne,</l>
      <l n="143">
         <hi rend="italic">Paris</hi>is gor'd with<hi rend="italic">Menelaus</hi>horne.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic inline" type="business">Alarum.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tro-aen">
      <speaker rend="italic">Æne.</speaker>
      <l n="144">Harke what good sport is out of Towne to day.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="145">Better at home, if would I might were may:</l>
      <l n="146">But to the sport abroad, are you bound thither?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-aen">
      <speaker rend="italic">Æne.</speaker>
      <l n="147">In all swift hast.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="148">Come goe wee then togither.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic inline" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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