READ STUDY GUIDE: Act II |
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Act II, Scene ii:
Troy. PRIAM'S palace
Troy. 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, |
| Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd |
| 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, |
| 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, |
| Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd |
| The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches |
| To th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen go. |
| Since the first sword was drawn about this question, |
| Every tithe soul 'mongst many thousand dismes |
| 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 |
| 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's, in a scale |
| Of common ounces? Will you with counters sum |
| 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, |
| 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 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 |
| 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 |
| 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 |
| The keeping. |
| TROILUS.: |
| What's 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 |
| As in the prizer. 'Tis mad idolatry |
| To make the service greater than the god—I |
| And the will dotes that is attributive |
| To what infectiously itself affects, |
| Without some image of th' affected merit. |
| 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, |
| 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 |
| 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 with full consent benied his sails; |
| The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce, |
| And did him service. He touch'd the ports desir'd; |
| 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. |
| Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a |
| 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'— |
| If you'll confess he brought home worthy 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 never fortune did— |
| Beggar the estimation which you priz'd |
| 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 |
| We fear to warrant in our native place! |
| CASSANDRA.: |
| [Within.] |
| Cry, Troyans, cry. |
| PRIAM.: |
| What noise, what shriek is this? |
| TROILUS.: |
| 'Tis our mad sister; I do know her voice. |
| CASSANDRA.: |
| [Within.] |
| Cry, Troyans. |
| HECTOR.: |
| It is Cassandra. |
| [Enter CASSANDRA, raving.] |
| CASSANDRA.: |
| Cry, Troyans, cry. Lend me ten thousand eyes, |
| 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 |
| A moiety of that mass of moan to come. |
| Cry, Troyans, cry. Practise your eyes with tears. |
| Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; |
| Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. |
| Cry, Troyans, cry, A Helen and a woe! |
| 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, |
| 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; |
| 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 engag'd |
| To make it gracious. For my private part, |
| 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 |
| As well my undertakings as your counsels; |
| But I attest the gods, your full consent |
| Gave wings to my propension, and cut of |
| All fears attending on so dire a project. |
| For what, alas, can these my single arms? |
| 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, |
| 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; |
| 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 |
| Wip'd off in honourable keeping her. |
| 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 |
| 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 unfam'd |
| 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 |
| Have gloz'd, but superficially; not much |
| Unlike young men, whom Aristode thought |
| Unfit to hear moral philosophy. |
| The reasons you allege do more conduce |
| To the hot passion of distemp'red blood |
| 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 rend'red to their owners. Now, |
| 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; |
| 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 |
| 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'er the less, |
| My spritely brethren, I propend to you |
| In resolution to keep Helen still; |
| For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependence |
| Upon our joint and several dignities. |
| TROILUS.: |
| Why, there you touch'd the life of our design. |
| Were it not glory that we more affected |
| Than the performance of our heaving spleens, |
| I would not wish a drop of Troyan blood |
| Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, |
| She is a theme of honour and renown, |
| 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 promis'd glory |
| 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 |
| The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks |
| Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits. |
| I was advertis'd their great general slept, |
| Whilst emulation in the army crept. |
| This, I presume, will wake him. |
| [Exeunt.] |
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