| ACT IV SCENE I | Troy. A street. | |
| [
Enter, from one side, AENEAS, and Servant with a
torch; from the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR,
DIOMEDES, and others, with torches
] |
| PARIS | See, ho! who is that there? |
| DEIPHOBUS | It is the Lord Aeneas. |
| AeNEAS | Is the prince there in person? |
| Had I so good occasion to lie long |
| As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business | 5 |
| Should rob my bed-mate of my company. |
| DIOMEDES | That's my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Aeneas. |
| PARIS | A valiant Greek, Aeneas,--take his hand,-- |
| Witness the process of your speech, wherein |
| You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, | 10 |
| Did haunt you in the field. |
| AENEAS | Health to you, valiant sir, |
| During all question of the gentle truce; |
| But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance |
| As heart can think or courage execute. | 15 |
| DIOMEDES | The one and other Diomed embraces. |
| Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health! |
| But when contention and occasion meet, |
| By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life |
| With all my force, pursuit and policy. | 20 |
| AENEAS | And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly |
| With his face backward. In humane gentleness, |
| Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, |
| Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear, |
| No man alive can love in such a sort | 25 |
| The thing he means to kill more excellently. |
| DIOMEDES | We sympathize: Jove, let Aeneas live, |
| If to my sword his fate be not the glory, |
| A thousand complete courses of the sun! |
| But, in mine emulous honour, let him die, | 30 |
| With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow! |
| AENEAS | We know each other well. |
| DIOMEDES | We do; and long to know each other worse. |
| PARIS | This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, |
| The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. | 35 |
| What business, lord, so early? |
| AENEAS | I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not. |
| PARIS | His purpose meets you: 'twas to bring this Greek |
| To Calchas' house, and there to render him, |
| For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid: | 40 |
| Let's have your company, or, if you please, |
| Haste there before us: I constantly do think-- |
| Or rather, call my thought a certain knowledge-- |
| My brother Troilus lodges there to-night: |
| Rouse him and give him note of our approach. | 45 |
| With the whole quality wherefore: I fear |
| We shall be much unwelcome. |
| AENEAS | That I assure you: |
| Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece |
| Than Cressid borne from Troy. | 50 |
| PARIS | There is no help; |
| The bitter disposition of the time |
| Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. |
| AENEAS | Good morrow, all. |
| [Exit with Servant] |
| PARIS | And tell me, noble Diomed, faith, tell me true, | 55 |
| Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship, |
| Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best, |
| Myself or Menelaus? |
| DIOMEDES | Both alike: |
| He merits well to have her, that doth seek her, | 60 |
| Not making any scruple of her soilure, |
| With such a hell of pain and world of charge, |
| And you as well to keep her, that defend her, |
| Not palating the taste of her dishonour, |
| With such a costly loss of wealth and friends: | 65 |
| He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up |
| The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece; |
| You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins |
| Are pleased to breed out your inheritors: |
| Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more; | 70 |
| But he as he, the heavier for a whore. |
| PARIS | You are too bitter to your countrywoman. |
| DIOMEDES | She's bitter to her country: hear me, Paris: |
| For every false drop in her bawdy veins |
| A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple | 75 |
| Of her contaminated carrion weight, |
| A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak, |
| She hath not given so many good words breath |
| As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death. |
| PARIS | Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, | 80 |
| Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy: |
| But we in silence hold this virtue well, |
| We'll but commend what we intend to sell. |
| Here lies our way. |
| [Exeunt] |
Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida: Scenes and Commentary