| ACT II SCENE II | Troy. A room in Priam's palace. | |
| | Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS | |
| PRIAM | After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, | |
| | Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: | |
| | 'Deliver Helen, and all damage else-- | |
| | As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, | 5 |
| | Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed | |
| | In hot digestion of this cormorant war-- | |
| | Shall be struck off.' Hector, what say you to't? | |
| HECTOR | Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I | |
| | As far as toucheth my particular, | 10 |
| | Yet, dread Priam, | |
| | There is no lady of more softer bowels, | |
| | More spongy to suck in the sense of fear, | |
| | More ready to cry out 'Who knows what follows?' | |
| | Than Hector is: the wound of peace is surety, | 15 |
| | Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd | |
| | The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches | |
| | To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go: | |
| | Since the first sword was drawn about this question, | |
| | Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes, | 20 |
| | Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours: | |
| | If we have lost so many tenths of ours, | |
| | To guard a thing not ours nor worth to us, | |
| | Had it our name, the value of one ten, | |
| | What merit's in that reason which denies | 25 |
| | The yielding of her up? | |
| TROILUS | Fie, fie, my brother! | |
| | Weigh you the worth and honour of a king | |
| | So great as our dread father in a scale | |
| | Of common ounces? will you with counters sum | 30 |
| | The past proportion of his infinite? | |
| | And buckle in a waist most fathomless | |
| | With spans and inches so diminutive | |
| | As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame! | |
| HELENUS | No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons, | 35 |
| | You are so empty of them. Should not our father | |
| | Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, | |
| | Because your speech hath none that tells him so? | |
| TROILUS | You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest; | |
| | You fur your gloves with reason. Here are | 40 |
| | your reasons: | |
| | You know an enemy intends you harm; | |
| | You know a sword employ'd is perilous, | |
| | And reason flies the object of all harm: | |
| | Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds | 45 |
| | A Grecian and his sword, if he do set | |
| | The very wings of reason to his heels | |
| | And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, | |
| | Or like a star disorb'd? Nay, if we talk of reason, | |
| | Let's shut our gates and sleep: manhood and honour | 50 |
| | Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat | |
| | their thoughts | |
| | With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect | |
| | Make livers pale and lustihood deject. | |
| HECTOR | Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost | 55 |
| | The holding. | |
| TROILUS | What is aught, but as 'tis valued? | |
| HECTOR | But value dwells not in particular will; | |
| | It holds his estimate and dignity | |
| | As well wherein 'tis precious of itself | 60 |
| | As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry | |
| | To make the service greater than the god | |
| | And the will dotes that is attributive | |
| | To what infectiously itself affects, | |
| | Without some image of the affected merit. | 65 |
| TROILUS | I take to-day a wife, and my election | |
| | Is led on in the conduct of my will; | |
| | My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, | |
| | Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores | |
| | Of will and judgment: how may I avoid, | 70 |
| | Although my will distaste what it elected, | |
| | The wife I chose? there can be no evasion | |
| | To blench from this and to stand firm by honour: | |
| | We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, | |
| | When we have soil'd them, nor the remainder viands | 75 |
| | We do not throw in unrespective sieve, | |
| | Because we now are full. It was thought meet | |
| | Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks: | |
| | Your breath of full consent bellied his sails; | |
| | The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce | 80 |
| | And did him service: he touch'd the ports desired, | |
| | And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive, | |
| | He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness | |
| | Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning. | |
| | Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt: | 85 |
| | Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl, | |
| | Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships, | |
| | And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. | |
| | If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went-- | |
| | As you must needs, for you all cried 'Go, go,'-- | 90 |
| | If you'll confess he brought home noble prize-- | |
| | As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands | |
| | And cried 'Inestimable!'--why do you now | |
| | The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, | |
| | And do a deed that fortune never did, | 95 |
| | Beggar the estimation which you prized | |
| | Richer than sea and land? O, theft most base, | |
| | That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep! | |
| | But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stol'n, | |
| | That in their country did them that disgrace, | 100 |
| | We fear to warrant in our native place! | |
| CASSANDRA | Within | |
| PRIAM | What noise? what shriek is this? | |
| TROILUS | 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice. | |
| CASSANDRA | Within | |
| HECTOR | It is Cassandra. | |
| | Enter CASSANDRA, raving | |
| CASSANDRA | Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, | 105 |
| | And I will fill them with prophetic tears. | |
| HECTOR | Peace, sister, peace! | |
| CASSANDRA | Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld, | |
| | Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, | |
| | Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes | 110 |
| | A moiety of that mass of moan to come. | |
| | Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears! | |
| | Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; | |
| | Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. | |
| | Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen and a woe: | 115 |
| | Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. | |
| | Exit | |
| HECTOR | Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains | |
| | Of divination in our sister work | |
| | Some touches of remorse? or is your blood | |
| | So madly hot that no discourse of reason, | 120 |
| | Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, | |
| | Can qualify the same? | |
| TROILUS | Why, brother Hector, | |
| | We may not think the justness of each act | |
| | Such and no other than event doth form it, | 125 |
| | Nor once deject the courage of our minds, | |
| | Because Cassandra's mad: her brain-sick raptures | |
| | Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel | |
| | Which hath our several honours all engaged | |
| | To make it gracious. For my private part, | 130 |
| | I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons: | |
| | And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us | |
| | Such things as might offend the weakest spleen | |
| | To fight for and maintain! | |
| PARIS | Else might the world convince of levity | 135 |
| | As well my undertakings as your counsels: | |
| | But I attest the gods, your full consent | |
| | Gave wings to my propension and cut off | |
| | All fears attending on so dire a project. | |
| | For what, alas, can these my single arms? | 140 |
| | What Propugnation is in one man's valour, | |
| | To stand the push and enmity of those | |
| | This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, | |
| | Were I alone to pass the difficulties | |
| | And had as ample power as I have will, | 145 |
| | Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done, | |
| | Nor faint in the pursuit. | |
| PRIAM | Paris, you speak | |
| | Like one besotted on your sweet delights: | |
| | You have the honey still, but these the gall; | 150 |
| | So to be valiant is no praise at all. | |
| PARIS | Sir, I propose not merely to myself | |
| | The pleasures such a beauty brings with it; | |
| | But I would have the soil of her fair rape | |
| | Wiped off, in honourable keeping her. | 155 |
| | What treason were it to the ransack'd queen, | |
| | Disgrace to your great worths and shame to me, | |
| | Now to deliver her possession up | |
| | On terms of base compulsion! Can it be | |
| | That so degenerate a strain as this | 160 |
| | Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? | |
| | There's not the meanest spirit on our party | |
| | Without a heart to dare or sword to draw | |
| | When Helen is defended, nor none so noble | |
| | Whose life were ill bestow'd or death unfamed | 165 |
| | Where Helen is the subject; then, I say, | |
| | Well may we fight for her whom, we know well, | |
| | The world's large spaces cannot parallel. | |
| HECTOR | Paris and Troilus, you have both said well, | |
| | And on the cause and question now in hand | 170 |
| | Have glozed, but superficially: not much | |
| | Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought | |
| | Unfit to hear moral philosophy: | |
| | The reasons you allege do more conduce | |
| | To the hot passion of distemper'd blood | 175 |
| | Than to make up a free determination | |
| | 'Twixt right and wrong, for pleasure and revenge | |
| | Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice | |
| | Of any true decision. Nature craves | |
| | All dues be render'd to their owners: now, | 180 |
| | What nearer debt in all humanity | |
| | Than wife is to the husband? If this law | |
| | Of nature be corrupted through affection, | |
| | And that great minds, of partial indulgence | |
| | To their benumbed wills, resist the same, | 185 |
| | There is a law in each well-order'd nation | |
| | To curb those raging appetites that are | |
| | Most disobedient and refractory. | |
| | If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king, | |
| | As it is known she is, these moral laws | 190 |
| | Of nature and of nations speak aloud | |
| | To have her back return'd: thus to persist | |
| | In doing wrong extenuates not wrong, | |
| | But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion | |
| | Is this in way of truth; yet ne'ertheless, | 195 |
| | My spritely brethren, I propend to you | |
| | In resolution to keep Helen still, | |
| | For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance | |
| | Upon our joint and several dignities. | |
| TROILUS | Why, there you touch'd the life of our design: | 200 |
| | Were it not glory that we more affected | |
| | Than the performance of our heaving spleens, | |
| | I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood | |
| | Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, | |
| | She is a theme of honour and renown, | 205 |
| | A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, | |
| | Whose present courage may beat down our foes, | |
| | And fame in time to come canonize us; | |
| | For, I presume, brave Hector would not lose | |
| | So rich advantage of a promised glory | 210 |
| | As smiles upon the forehead of this action | |
| | For the wide world's revenue. | |
| HECTOR | I am yours, | |
| | You valiant offspring of great Priamus. | |
| | I have a roisting challenge sent amongst | 215 |
| | The dun and factious nobles of the Greeks | |
| | Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits: | |
| | I was advertised their great general slept, | |
| | Whilst emulation in the army crept: | |
| | This, I presume, will wake him. | 220 |
| | Exeunt | |