Aeneas

Agamemnon
This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.
Aeneas
Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarmed,
As bending angels—that’s their fame in peace.
But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,
Good arms, strong joints, true swords, and—great Jove’s accord—
Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Aeneas.
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Aeneas
Health to you, valiant sir,
During all question of the gentle truce;
But when I meet you armed, as black defiance
As heart can think or courage execute.
Diomedes
The one and other Diomed embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm, and, so long, health;
But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove,
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Cressida
And is it true that I must go from Troy?
Troilus
A hateful truth.
Cressida
What, and from Troilus too?
Troilus
From Troy and Troilus.
Cressida
Is ‘t possible?

We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
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Troilus
I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet, be true.
Cressida
O heavens! “Be true” again?
Troilus
Hear why I speak it, love.
The Grecian youths are full of quality,
Their loving well composed, with gift of nature flowing,
And swelling o’er with arts and exercise.
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Troilus
Hector is slain.
All
Hector! The gods forbid!
Troilus
He’s dead, and at the murderer’s horse’s tail,
In beastly sort, dragged through the shameful field.
Frown on, you heavens; effect your rage with speed.
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smite at Troy!
I say at once: let your brief plagues be mercy,
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