DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

HECTOR, } Sons of PRIAM. 
TROILUS, }
PRIAM, King of Troy.
AENEAS, a Trojan Warrior.
PANDARUS, Uncle to CRESSIDA. 
CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, and Father to CRESSIDA, a fugitive to
the Grecian camp.
AGAMEMNON, }
ULYSSES, }
ACHILLES, }
AJAX, } Grecian Warriors, engaged in the
NESTOR, } siege of Troy.
DIOMEDES, }
PATROCLUS, }
MENELAUS, }
THERSITES, a slanderous Buffoon.

  CRESSIDA, Daughter to CALCHAS.
  ANDROMACHE, Wife to HECTOR.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

ACT I.

SCENE I.—­A Camp.

  Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, and NESTOR.

Agam. Princes, it seems not strange to us, nor new,
That, after nine years siege, Troy makes defence,
Since every action of recorded fame
Has with long difficulties been involved,
Not answering that idea of the thought,
Which gave it birth; why then, you Grecian chiefs,
With sickly eyes do you behold our labours,
And think them our dishonour, which indeed
Are the protractive trials of the gods,
To prove heroic constancy in men?

Nest. With due observance of thy sovereign seat,
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply
Thy well-weighed words.  In struggling with misfortunes
Lies the true proof of virtue:  On smooth seas,
How many bauble-boats dare set their sails,
And make an equal way with firmer vessels! 
But let the tempest once enrage that sea,
And then behold the strong-ribbed argosie,
Bounding between the ocean and the air,
Like Perseus mounted on his Pegasus. 
Then where are those weak rivals of the main? 
Or, to avoid the tempest, fled to port,
Or made a prey to Neptune.  Even thus
Do empty show, and true-prized worth, divide
In storms of fortune.

Ulys. Mighty Agamemnon! 
Heart of our body, soul of our designs,
In whom the tempers, and the minds of all
Should be inclosed,—­hear what Ulysses speaks.

Agam. You have free leave.

Ulys. Troy had been down ere this, and Hector’s sword
Wanted a master, but for our disorders: 
The observance due to rule has been neglected,
Observe how many Grecian tents stand void
Upon this plain, so many hollow factions: 
For, when the general is not like the hive,
To whom the foragers should all repair,
What honey can our empty combs expect? 
Or when supremacy of kings is shaken,
What can succeed?  How could communities,
Or peaceful traffic from divided shores,
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,
But by degree, stand on their solid base? 
Then every thing resolves to brutal force,
And headlong force is led by hoodwinked will. 
For wild ambition, like a ravenous wolf,
Spurred on by will, and seconded by power,
Must make an universal prey of all,
And last devour itself.