Troilus and Cressida

Cassandra
Cry, Trojans, 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 elders,
Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,
Add to my clamors. Let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mass of moan to come.
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Ajax
Why should a man be proud? How doth pride
grow? I know not what pride is.
Agamemnon
Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your
virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up himself.
Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own
chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the
deed devours the deed in the praise.
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Ulysses
Achilles will not to the field tomorrow.
Agamemnon
What’s his excuse?
Ulysses
He doth rely on none,
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without observance or respect of any,
In will peculiar and in self-admission.
Agamemnon
Why, will he not, upon our fair request,
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Pandarus
I come to speak with Paris
from the Prince Troilus. I will make a complimental
assault upon him, for my business seethes.
Man
Sodden business! There’s a stewed phrase indeed.
 Enter Paris and Helen with Attendants.
Pandarus
Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair
company!
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Pandurus
Come, come, I’ll hear no more of this. I’ll
sing you a song now.
Helen
Ay, ay, prithee. Now, by my troth, sweet lord,
thou hast a fine forehead.
Pandurus
Ay, you may, you may.
Helen
Let thy song be love. “This love will undo us all.”
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Pandarus
Have you seen my cousin?
Troilus
No, Pandarus. I stalk about her door
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those fields
Where I may wallow in the lily beds
Proposed for the deserver! O, gentle Pandar,
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Cressida
Will you walk in, my lord?
Troilus
O Cressid, how often have I wished me thus!
Cressida
“Wished,” my lord? The gods grant—O, my lord!
Troilus
What should they grant? What makes this
pretty abruption? What too-curious dreg espies
my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
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Cressida
Boldness comes to me now and brings me heart.
Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day
For many weary months.
Troilus
Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?
Cressida
Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord,
With the first glance that ever—pardon me;
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Troilus
What offends you, lady?
Cressida
Sir, mine own company.
Troilus
You cannot shun yourself.
Cressida
Let me go and try.
I have a kind of self resides with you,
But an unkind self that itself will leave
To be another’s fool. I would be gone.
Where is my wit?
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Ulysses
Achilles stands i’ th’ entrance of his tent.
Please it our General pass strangely by him
As if he were forgot, and, princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him.
I will come last. ‘Tis like he’ll question me
Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turned on him.
If so, I have derision medicinable
To use between your strangeness and his pride,
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