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How now! where’s thy master? at my cousin Cressida’s?
Hey! Where’s your master? Is he at my cousin Cressida’s?
No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.
No, sir; he’s waiting for you to lead him there.
O, here he comes.
Oh, here he comes.
How now, how now!
What’s happening, what’s happening?
Sirrah, walk off.
Boy, go away.
Have you seen my cousin?
Have you seen my cousin?
No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door, Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to those fields Where I may wallow in the lily-beds Proposed for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus, From Cupid’s shoulder pluck his painted wings And fly with me to Cressid!
No, Pandarus: I’m walking around her door, Like a lost soul by the Stygian river, Waiting for a boat ride. Oh, be my Charon, And take me quickly to those fields Where I can lie in the lily-beds Meant for the one who deserves it! Oh, kind Pandarus, Pluck the painted wings off Cupid’s shoulder And fly with me to Cressid!
Walk here i’ the orchard, I’ll bring her straight.
Walk here in the orchard, I’ll bring her right out.
I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense: what will it be, When that the watery palate tastes indeed Love’s thrice repured nectar? death, I fear me, Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine, Too subtle-potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness, For the capacity of my ruder powers: I fear it much; and I do fear besides, That I shall lose distinction in my joys; As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying.
I’m dizzy; my mind is spinning. The thought of it is so sweet That it charms my senses: how will it feel, When the real thing happens? What will Love’s three-times refined nectar taste like? Death, I fear, Or overwhelming ruin, or maybe a joy so delicate, So finely-tuned, so intensely sweet, That my less-refined self won’t be able to handle it: I fear it so much; and I also fear, That I’ll lose myself in my happiness, Like an army when they charge together, And the enemy runs.
She’s making her ready, she’ll come straight: you must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as if she were frayed with a sprite: I’ll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain: she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta’en sparrow.
She’s getting ready, she’ll be out soon: you have to be clever now. She’s blushing so hard, and catching her breath so quickly, like she’s scared by a ghost: I’ll bring her. She’s the cutest little devil: she catches her breath as quickly as a freshly-caught sparrow.
Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom: My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse; And all my powers do their bestowing lose, Like vassalage at unawares encountering The eye of majesty.
This passion fills my chest: My heart is beating faster than a feverish pulse; And all my strength is slipping away, Like a servant caught off guard by The gaze of royalty.
Come, come, what need you blush? shame’s a baby. Here she is now: swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me. What, are you gone again? you must be watched ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw backward, we’ll put you i’ the fills. Why do you not speak to her? Come, draw this curtain, and let’s see your picture. Alas the day, how loath you are to offend daylight! an ’twere dark, you’ld close sooner. So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress. How now! a kiss in fee-farm! build there, carpenter; the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i’ the river: go to, go to.
Come on, come on, why are you blushing? Shame is like a little child. Here she is now: swear the oaths to her that you’ve sworn to me. What, are you leaving again? You need to be watched until you’re tame, don’t you? Come on, come on; if you back off, we’ll put you in the stocks. Why aren’t you speaking to her? Come, draw this curtain, and let’s see your picture. Oh, how sad, how unwilling you are to show yourself in the light! If it were dark, you’d cover up faster. There, there; go ahead, kiss the lady. How about that! A kiss for a price! Go on, carpenter; the air is nice. No, you’re going to fight it out with all your strength before I let you go. The falcon and the male hawk, for all the ducks in the river: go on, go on.
You have bereft me of all words, lady.
You’ve taken away all my words, lady.
Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but she’ll bereave you o’ the deeds too, if she call your activity in question. What, billing again? Here’s ’In witness whereof the parties interchangeably’-- Come in, come in: I’ll go get a fire.
Words don’t settle debts, give her actions: but she’ll take away your actions too, if she questions your behavior. What, kissing again? Here’s ‘In witness whereof the parties exchange vows’-- Come on, come on: I’ll go start a fire.
Will you walk in, my lord?
Will you come in, my lord?
O Cressida, how often have I wished me thus!
Oh Cressida, how many times have I wished for this!
Wished, my lord! The gods grant,--O my lord!
Wished, my lord! The gods grant it,—oh my lord!
What should they grant? what makes this pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
What should they grant? What is this sudden change? What troubling thought do you see, my sweet lady, in the fountain of our love?
More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.
More troubling thoughts than water, if my fears are right.
Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly.
Fears turn angels into devils; they never see things clearly.
Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: to fear the worst oft cures the worse.
Blind fear, that follows reason, finds safer ground than blind reason stumbling without fear: fearing the worst often prevents the worst.
O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in all Cupid’s pageant there is presented no monster.
Oh, let my lady not fear: in all of Cupid’s games, there’s no monster presented.
Nor nothing monstrous neither?
Nor anything monstrous at all?
Nothing, but our undertakings; when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady, that the will is infinite and the execution confined, that the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.
Nothing, except our actions; when we promise to weep oceans, live in fire, eat stones, tame tigers; thinking it’s harder for our mistress to come up with tasks than for us to face any challenge she gives us. This is the strange thing about love, lady, that the will is unlimited and the execution is limited, that the desire is endless and the action is bound by limits.
They say all lovers swear more performance than they are able and yet reserve an ability that they never perform, vowing more than the perfection of ten and discharging less than the tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions and the act of hares, are they not monsters?
They say all lovers promise more than they can do, and yet they keep some ability that they never show, promising more than they can deliver and doing less than a tenth of what they said. They who roar like lions but act like rabbits, are they not monsters?
Are there such? such are not we: praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go bare till merit crown it: no perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present: we will not name desert before his birth, and, being born, his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith: Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst shall be a mock for his truth, and what truth can speak truest not truer than Troilus.
Are there really people like that? We’re not like them: praise us for what we actually do, judge us by what we actually prove; our heads will stay bare until our actions deserve a crown. No praise for what someone might become in the future; we won’t call someone great before they’ve even been born, and when they are born, their greatness will be humble. Troilus will be to Cressida as truthful as envy can be hateful, and as honest as truth can be spoken.
Will you walk in, my lord?
Will you come in, my lord?
What, blushing still? have you not done talking yet?
What, still blushing? haven’t you finished talking yet?
Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.
Well, uncle, whatever silly thing I do, I dedicate it to you.
I thank you for that: if my lord get a boy of you, you’ll give him me. Be true to my lord: if he flinch, chide me for it.
I thank you for that: if my lord has a son with you, you’ll give him to me. Be true to my lord; if he ever betrays you, scold me for it.
You know now your hostages; your uncle’s word and my firm faith.
You know now what you’re committing to: your uncle’s word and my unwavering faith.
Nay, I’ll give my word for her too: our kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed, they are constant being won: they are burs, I can tell you; they’ll stick where they are thrown.
No, I’ll give my word for her too: our family, though they take a long time to be courted, they’re constant once they’ve been won. They’re like burs, I can tell you; they’ll stick wherever you throw them.
Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart. Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day For many weary months.
Now I feel bold, and it gives me strength. Prince Troilus, I have loved you day and night for many long months.
Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?
Then why was my Cressida so hard to win?
Hard to seem won: but I was won, my lord, With the first glance that ever--pardon me-- If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. I love you now; but not, till now, so much But I might master it: in faith, I lie; My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown Too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools! Why have I blabb’d? who shall be true to us, When we are so unsecret to ourselves? But, though I loved you well, I woo’d you not; And yet, good faith, I wish’d myself a man, Or that we women had men’s privilege Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue, For in this rapture I shall surely speak The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence, Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws My very soul of counsel! stop my mouth.
Hard to appear won: but I was won, my lord, with the first glance that I ever gave you—pardon me—if I admit too much, you’ll think I’m confessing to something. I love you now, but not as much as I love you now, though I might have controlled it. Actually, I’m lying: My thoughts were like undisciplined children, growing too wild for their mother. Look at us, we’re fools! Why have I said so much? who will be true to us when we’re so unfaithful to ourselves? But, even though I loved you well, I didn’t court you; and yet, honestly, I wished I were a man, or that we women had the privilege that men do of speaking first. Sweetheart, tell me to be quiet, because if I keep talking in this excitement, I’ll definitely say something I’ll regret. Look, look, your silence, clever in its quietness, makes me speak my very soul’s secrets! Stop me.
And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.
And I will, though sweet music comes from it.
Pretty, i’ faith.
Pretty, I swear.
My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me; ’Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss: I am ashamed. O heavens! what have I done? For this time will I take my leave, my lord.
My lord, please forgive me; It wasn’t my intention to ask for a kiss like this: I’m embarrassed. Oh heavens! What have I done? I’ll leave now, my lord.
Your leave, sweet Cressid!
You’re leaving, sweet Cressid?
Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning,--
Leaving? If you’re leaving, wait until tomorrow morning,--
Pray you, content you.
Please, just calm down.
What offends you, lady?
What’s bothering you, lady?
Sir, mine own company.
Sir, my own company.
You cannot shun Yourself.
You can’t escape from yourself.
Let me go and try: I have a kind of self resides with you; But an unkind self, that itself will leave, To be another’s fool. I would be gone: Where is my wit? I know not what I speak.
Let me go try: There’s a part of me that stays with you; But it’s a cruel part, that will leave, To become someone else’s fool. I want to go: Where’s my sense? I don’t know what I’m saying.
Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely.
Those who speak so wisely, know what they’re saying.
Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love; And fell so roundly to a large confession, To angle for your thoughts: but you are wise, Or else you love not, for to be wise and love Exceeds man’s might; that dwells with gods above.
Maybe, my lord, I show more cleverness than love; And gave such a complete confession, To fish for your thoughts: but you’re wise, Or else you don’t love me, because to be wise and love Is beyond human ability; that belongs to the gods above.
O that I thought it could be in a woman-- As, if it can, I will presume in you-- To feed for aye her ramp and flames of love; To keep her constancy in plight and youth, Outliving beauty’s outward, with a mind That doth renew swifter than blood decays! Or that persuasion could but thus convince me, That my integrity and truth to you Might be affronted with the match and weight Of such a winnow’d purity in love; How were I then uplifted! but, alas! I am as true as truth’s simplicity And simpler than the infancy of truth.
Oh, if I thought it were possible in a woman-- And if it is, I’ll believe it in you-- To constantly feed her raging, fiery love; To keep her loyalty in trouble and youth, Outlasting beauty’s surface, with a mind That renews faster than blood fades! Or if persuasion could convince me, That my honesty and loyalty to you Could be tested by the match and weight Of such a pure love; How exalted I would be! But, alas! I am as true as truth itself And simpler than truth’s earliest form.
In that I’ll war with you.
I’ll fight you on that.
O virtuous fight, When right with right wars who shall be most right! True swains in love shall in the world to come Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes, Full of protest, of oath and big compare, Want similes, truth tired with iteration, As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, Yet, after all comparisons of truth, As truth’s authentic author to be cited, ’As true as Troilus’ shall crown up the verse, And sanctify the numbers.
Oh, virtuous battle, When right fights right, who will be more right? True lovers in the future will prove their loyalty by Troilus: when their poems, Full of protests, oaths, and grand comparisons, Are tired of repeating the same truths, As true as steel, as dependable as the moon, As constant as the sun, as loyal as a turtle to her mate, As unchanging as iron to adamant, as steady as the earth to the centre, Yet, after all comparisons of truth, The phrase ’As true as Troilus’ will seal the verse, And make the words sacred.
Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, When time is old and hath forgot itself, When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, And blind oblivion swallow’d cities up, And mighty states characterless are grated To dusty nothing, yet let memory, From false to false, among false maids in love, Upbraid my falsehood! when they’ve said ’as false As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer’s calf, Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son,’ ’Yea,’ let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, ’As false as Cressid.’
You might be a prophet! If I am unfaithful, or stray even a little from the truth, When I’m old and forget myself, When water has worn away the stones of Troy, And total forgetfulness has swallowed up cities, And great empires have crumbled to nothing, Let my memory still be cursed, If I’m false, among all the false women in love, Let them call me a liar! When they say, "She’s as false As the air, as the water, the wind, or the sand, As a fox to a lamb, as a wolf to a calf, A leopard to a deer, or a stepmother to her son," "Yes," let them say, to truly mark my dishonesty, "She’s as false as Cressid."
Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it; I’ll be the witness. Here I hold your hand, here my cousin’s. If ever you prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world’s end after my name; call them all Pandars; let all constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers-between Pandars! say, amen.
Alright, it’s a deal: seal it, seal it; I’ll be the witness. Here, I hold your hand, and here’s my cousin’s. If you ever prove false to each other, since I’ve worked so hard to bring you together, let all the poor matchmakers be cursed with my name; Call them all Pandars; let all faithful men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all go-betweens be Pandars! Say, "Amen."
Amen.
Amen.
Amen.
Amen.
Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber with a bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death: away! And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here Bed, chamber, Pandar to provide this gear!
Amen. Now, I’ll show you a room with a bed; and because this bed won’t gossip about your lovely encounters, press it down hard: go on! And may Cupid bless all the shy young women here With a bed, a room, and a Pandar to arrange it all!