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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,
Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship-
Who in your thoughts deserves fair Helen best,
Myself or Menelaus?
DIOMEDES. Both alike:
He merits well to have her that doth seek her,
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.
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 pleas'd to breed out your inheritors.
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more;
But he as he, the heavier for a whore.
PARIS. You are too bitter to your country-woman.
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
Of her contaminated carrion weight
A Troyan hath been slain; since she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath
As for her Greeks and Troyans suff'red death.
PARIS. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy;
But we in silence hold this virtue well:
We'll not commend what we intend to sell.
Here lies our way. Exeunt
ACT IV. SCENE 2.
Troy. The court of PANDARUS' house
Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA
TROILUS. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold.
CRESSIDA. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down;
He shall unbolt the gates.
TROILUS. Trouble him not;
To bed, to bed! Sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses
As infants' empty of all thought!
CRESSIDA. Good morrow, then.
TROILUS. I prithee now, to bed.
CRESSIDA. Are you aweary of me?
TROILUS. O Cressida! but that the busy day,
Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
I would not from thee.
CRESSIDA. Night hath been too brief.
TROILUS. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays
As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
You will catch cold, and curse me.
CRESSIDA. Prithee tarry.
You men will never tarry.
O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up.
PANDARUS. [Within] What's all the doors open here?
TROILUS. It is your uncle.
Enter PANDARUS
CRESSIDA. A pestilence on him! Now will he be mocking.
I shall have such a life!
PANDARUS. How now, how now! How go maidenheads?
Here, you maid! Where's my cousin Cressid?
CRESSIDA. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle.
You bring me to do, and then you flout me too.
PANDARUS. To do what? to do what? Let her say what.
What have I brought you to do?
CRESSIDA. Come, come, beshrew your heart! You'll ne'er be good,
Nor suffer others.
PANDARUS. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia! hast not
slept to-night? Would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? A
bugbear take him!
CRESSIDA. Did not I tell you? Would he were knock'd i' th' head!
[One knocks]
Who's that at door? Good uncle, go and see.
My lord, come you again into my chamber.
You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
TROILUS. Ha! ha!
CRESSIDA. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.
[Knock]
How earnestly they knock! Pray you come in:
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.
Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA
PANDARUS. Who's there? What's the matter? Will you beat down the
door? How now? What's the matter?
Enter AENEAS
AENEAS. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.
PANDARUS. Who's there? My lord Aeneas? By my troth,