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The Illustrated Works of Shakespeare
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Illustrated Works of Shakespeare, The (1990)(Animated Pixels)[!][CDTV-PC].iso
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1991-04-10
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200 lines
PROLOGUE.
Enter PROLOGUE in armour.
Prologue In Troy there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed,
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships
Fraught with the ministers and instruments
Of cruel war. Sixty and nine that wore
Their crownets regal from th' Athenian bay
Put forth toward Phrygia. and their vow is made
To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures
The ravished Helen, Menelaus' queen,
With wanton Paris sleeps - and that's the quarrel.
To Tenedos they come,
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Their warlike freightage. Now on Dardan plains
The fresh and yet unbruisd Greeks do pitch
Their brave pavilions. Priam's six-gated city,
Dardan and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,
And Antenorides, with massy staples
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
Stir up the sons of Troy.
Now expectation tickling skittish spirits
On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,
Sets all on hazard. And hither am I come,
A Prologue armed, but not in confidence
Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited
In like conditions as our argument,
To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,
Beginning in the middle; starting thence away
To what may be digested in a play.
Like, or find fault - do as your pleasures are;
Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.
ACT 1.
Scene 1. Troy. Before Priam's Palace.
Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS.
Troilus Call here my varlet, I'll unarm again.
Why should I war without the gates of Troy
That find such cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan that is master of his heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas, hath none.
Pandarus Will this gear ne'er be mended?
Troilus The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpractised infancy.
Pandarus Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part, I'll not
meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a cake out of
the wheat must needs tarry the grinding.
Troilus Have I not tarried?
Pandarus Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Troilus Have I not tarried?
Pandarus Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Troilus Still have I tarried.
Pandarus Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word 'hereafter'
the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the
oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or
you may chance to burn your lips.
Troilus Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
Doth lesser blench at suff'rance than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I sit;
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts-
So, traitor, then she comes when is she thence?
Pandarus Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her
look, or any woman else.
Troilus I was about to tell thee: when my heart,
As wedgd with a sigh, would rive in twain
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have, as when the sun doth light a storm,
Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile;
But sorrow that is couched in seeming gladness
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
Pandarus And her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's - well,
go to, there were no more comparison between the women. But
for my part she is my kinswoman I would not, as they term
it, 'praise' her; but I would somebody had heard her talk
yesterday as I did. I will not dispraise your sister
Cassandra's wit, but-
Troilus O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus-
When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drowned,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrenched - I tell thee I am mad
In Cressid's love; thou answer'st "She is fair";
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheeks her gait, her voice;
Handlest in thy discourse - O, that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink
Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman. This thou tell'st me,
As 'true' thou tell'st me, when I say I love her.
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm
Thou layst in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it.
Pandarus I speak no more than truth.
Troilus Thou dost not speak so much.
Pandarus Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be
fair, 'tis the better for her; and she be not, she has the
mends in her own hands.
Troilus Good Pandarus - how now, Pandarus?
Pandarus I have had my labour for my travail: ill-thought on of her,
and ill-thought on of you; gone between and between, but
small thanks for my labour.
Troilus What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with me?
Pandarus Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as
Helen. And she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on
Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not
and she were a blackamoor; 'tis all one to me.
Troilus Say I she is not fair?
Pandarus I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay
behind her father: let her to the Greeks - and so I'll tell
her the next time I see her. For my part, I'll meddle nor
make no more i'th' matter.
Troilus Pandarus?
Pandarus Not I.
Troilus Sweet Pandarus.
Pandarus Pray you speak no more to me. I will leave all as I found
it, and there an end.
[Exit PANDARUS.
[Sound alarum.
Troilus Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds!
Fools on both sides! - Helen must needs be fair
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument:
It is too starved a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus - O gods, how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar;
And he's as tetchy to be wooed to woo
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl.
Between our Ilium and where she resides
Let it be called the wild and wand'ring flood,
Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
[Alarum.
Enter AENEAS.
Aeneas How now, Prince Troilus, wherefore not afield?
Troilus Because not there. This woman's answer sorts,
For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Aeneas, from the field today?
Aeneas That Paris is returnd home, and hurt.
Troilus By whom, Aeneas?
Aeneas Troilus, by Menelaus.
Troilus Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn.
[Alarum.
Aeneas Hark what good sport is out of town today.
Troilus Better at home, if "would I might" were "may".
But to the sport abroad - are you bound thither?
Aeneas In all swift haste.
Troilus Come, go we then together.
[Exeunt.