Troilus and Cressida
Act 5, Scene 10
Another part of the plains.
- Enter Aeneas, Paris, Antenor, Deiphobus.
- Stand ho! Yet are we masters of the field.
- Enter Troilus.
Troilus4 - 5
- Never go home, here starve we out the night—
- Hector is slain.
All Aeneas, Paris, Antenor, and Deiphobus6
- Hector! The gods forbid!
Troilus7 - 12
- He’s dead, and at the murderer’s horse’s tail,
- In beastly sort, dragg’d through the shameful field.
- Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage 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 destructions on!
- My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
Troilus14 - 34
- 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 in to 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.
- Stay yet. You vile abominable tents,
- Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
- Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
- I’ll through and through you! And, thou great-siz’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’s thoughts.
- Strike a free march. To Troy with comfort go;
- Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
- Enter Pandarus.
- But hear you, hear you!
Troilus37 - 40
- Hence, broker, lackey!
- Strikes him.
- Ignominy, shame
- Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name!
- Exeunt all but Pandarus.
Pandarus42 - 62
- A goodly medicine for my aching bones! O world, world,
- world! Thus is the poor agent despis’d! O traders and bawds,
- how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! Why
- should our endeavor be so lov’d and the performance so
- loath’d? What verse for it? What instance for it? Let me
- Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
- Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;
- And being once subdu’d 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 Pandar’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 for 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.