Part 21

Troy. 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 encount’ring The eye of majesty.

Re-enter Pandarus With Creſſid

Pan. 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 watch’d ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw backward, we’ll put you i’ th’ 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’d 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’ th’ river. Go to, go to.

Troy. You have bereft me of all words, lady.

Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds; but she’ll bereave you o’ th’ 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. Exit

Cre. Will you walk in, my lord?

Troy. O Creſſid, how often have I wish’d me thus!

Cre. Wish’d, my lord! The gods grant-O my lord!

Troy. What should they grant? What makes this pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?

Cre. More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.

Troy. Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly.

Cre. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oft cures the worse.

Troy. O, let my lady apprehend no fear! In all Cupid’s pageant there is presented no monster.

Cre. Nor nothing monstrous neither?

Troy. Nothing, but our undertakings when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, cat 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 confin’d; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.

Cre. 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?

Troy. 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: Troylus 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 Troylus.

Cre. Will you walk in, my lord?

Re-enter Pandarus

Pan. What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet?

Cre. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.

Pan. 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.

Troy. You know now your hostages: your uncle’s word and my firm faith.

Pan. 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.

Cre. Boldness comes to me now and brings me heart. Prince Troylus, I have lov’d you night and day For many weary months.

Troy. Why was my Creſſid then so hard to win?

Cre. 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 till now not 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 lov’d 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.

Troy. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.