prompt:
Chapter: ACT III. SCENE 1.
Troy. PRIAM'S palace

Music sounds within. Enter PANDARUS and a SERVANT

  PANDARUS. Friend, you-pray you, a word. Do you not follow the young
    Lord Paris?
  SERVANT. Ay, sir, when he goes before me.
  PANDARUS. You depend upon him, I mean?
  SERVANT. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.
  PANDARUS. You depend upon a notable gentleman; I must needs praise
    him.
  SERVANT. The lord be praised!
  PANDARUS. You know me, do you not?
  SERVANT. Faith, sir, superficially.
  PANDARUS. Friend, know me better: I am the Lord Pandarus.
  SERVANT. I hope I shall know your honour better.
  PANDARUS. I do desire it.
  SERVANT. You are in the state of grace.
  PANDARUS. Grace! Not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles.
    What music is this?
  SERVANT. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts.
  PANDARUS. Know you the musicians?
  SERVANT. Wholly, sir.
  PANDARUS. Who play they to?
  SERVANT. To the hearers, sir.
  PANDARUS. At whose pleasure, friend?
  SERVANT. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.
  PANDARUS. Command, I mean, friend.
  SERVANT. Who shall I command, sir?
  PANDARUS. Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly,
    and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play?
  SERVANT. That's to't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of
    Paris my lord, who is there in person; with him the mortal Venus,
    the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul-
  PANDARUS. Who, my cousin, Cressida?
  SERVANT. No, sir, Helen. Could not you find out that by her
    attributes?
  PANDARUS. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the Lady
    Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus; I
    will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business
    seethes.
  SERVANT. Sodden business! There's a stew'd phrase indeed!

              Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended

  PANDARUS. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company!
    Fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them-especially
    to you, fair queen! Fair thoughts be your fair pillow.
  HELEN. Dear lord, you are full of fair words.
  PANDARUS. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince,
    here is good broken music.
  PARIS. You have broke it, cousin; and by my life, you shall make it
    whole again; you shall piece it out with a piece of your
    performance.
  HELEN. He is full of harmony.
  PANDARUS. Truly, lady, no.
  HELEN. O, sir-
  PANDARUS. Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude.
  PARIS. Well said, my lord. Well, you say so in fits.
  PANDARUS. I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will you
    vouchsafe me a word?
  HELEN. Nay, this shall not hedge us out. We'll hear you sing,
    certainly-
  PANDARUS. Well sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. But, marry,
    thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed friend, your
    brother Troilus-
  HELEN. My Lord Pandarus, honey-sweet lord-
  PANDARUS. Go to, sweet queen, go to-commends himself most
    affectionately to you-
  HELEN. You shall not bob us out of our melody. If you do, our
    melancholy upon your head!
  PANDARUS. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen, i' faith.
  HELEN. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.
  PANDARUS. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not,
    in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. -And, my
    lord, he desires you that, if the King call for him at supper,
    you will make his excuse.
  HELEN. My Lord Pandarus!
  PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen?
  PARIS. What exploit's in hand? Where sups he to-night?
  HELEN. Nay, but, my lord-
  PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen?-My cousin will fall out with
    you.
  HELEN. You must not know where he sups.
  PARIS. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida.
  PANDARUS. No, no, no such matter; you are wide. Come, your disposer
    is sick.
  PARIS. Well, I'll make's excuse.
  PANDARUS. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida?
    No, your poor disposer's sick.
  PARIS. I spy.
  PANDARUS. You spy! What do you spy?-Come, give me an instrument.
    Now, sweet queen.
  HELEN. Why, this is kindly done.
  PANDARUS. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet
    queen.
  HELEN. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my Lord Paris.
  PANDARUS. He! No, she'll none of him; they two are twain.
  HELEN. Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.
  PANDARUS. 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.
  PANDARUS. Ay, you may, you may.
  HELEN. Let thy song be love. This love will undo us all. O Cupid,
    Cupid, Cupid!
  PANDARUS. Love! Ay, that it shall, i' faith.
  PARIS. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.
  PANDARUS. In good troth, it begins so.
[Sings]

    Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more!
           For, oh, love's bow
           Shoots buck and doe;
           The shaft confounds
           Not that it wounds,
    But tickles still the sore.
    These lovers cry, O ho, they die!
       Yet that which seems the wound to kill
    Doth turn O ho! to ha! ha! he!
       So dying love lives still.
    O ho! a while, but ha! ha! ha!
    O ho! groans out for ha! ha! ha!-hey ho!

  HELEN. In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the nose.
  PARIS. He eats nothing but doves, love; and that breeds hot blood,
    and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot
    deeds, and hot deeds is love.
  PANDARUS. Is this the generation of love: hot blood, hot thoughts,
    and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of
    vipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field today?
  PARIS. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry
    of Troy. I would fain have arm'd to-day, but my Nell would not
    have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?
  HELEN. He hangs the lip at something. You know all, Lord Pandarus.
  PANDARUS. Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they spend
    to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse?
  PARIS. To a hair.
  PANDARUS. Farewell, sweet queen.
  HELEN. Commend me to your niece.
  PANDARUS. I will, sweet queen.       Exit. Sound a retreat
  PARIS. They're come from the field. Let us to Priam's hall
    To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you
    To help unarm our Hector. His stubborn buckles,
    With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd,
    Shall more obey than to the edge of steel
    Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more
    Than all the island kings-disarm great Hector.
  HELEN. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris;
    Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty
    Gives us more palm in beauty than we have,
    Yea, overshines ourself.
  PARIS. Sweet, above thought I love thee.
Exeunt

ACT III. SCENE 2.
Troy. PANDARUS' orchard

Enter PANDARUS and TROILUS' BOY, meeting

  PANDARUS. How now! Where's thy master? At my cousin Cressida's?
  BOY. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.

                      Enter TROILUS

  PANDARUS. O, here he comes. How now, how now!
  TROILUS. Sirrah, walk off.                  Exit Boy
  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 these fields
    Where I may wallow in the lily beds
    Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandar,
    From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
    And fly with me to Cressid!
  PANDARUS. Walk here i' th' orchard, I'll bring her straight.
      Exit
  TROILUS. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.
    Th' imaginary relish is so sweet
    That it enchants my sense; what will it be
    When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed
    Love's thrice-repured nectar? Death, I fear me;
    Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine,
    Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness,
    For the capacity of my ruder powers.
    I fear it much; and I do fear besides
    That I shall lose distinction in my joys;
    As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
    The enemy flying.

                     Re-enter PANDARUS

  PANDARUS. She's making her ready, she'll come straight; you must be
    witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as
    if she were fray'd with a sprite. I'll fetch her. It is the
    prettiest villain; she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en
    sparrow.
Exit
  TROILUS. 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 CRESSIDA

  PANDARUS. 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.
  TROILUS. You have bereft me of all words, lady.
  PANDARUS. 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
  CRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord?
  TROILUS. O Cressid, how often have I wish'd me thus!
  CRESSIDA. Wish'd, 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?
  CRESSIDA. More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.
  TROILUS. Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly.
  CRESSIDA. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing
    than blind reason stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oft
    cures the worse.
  TROILUS. O, let my lady apprehend no fear! In all Cupid's pageant
    there is presented no monster.
  CRESSIDA. Nor nothing monstrous neither?
  TROILUS. Nothing, but our undertakings when we vow to weep seas,
    live in fire, eat 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.
  CRESSIDA. 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?
  TROILUS. 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:
    Troilus 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 Troilus.
  CRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord?

                    Re-enter PANDARUS

  PANDARUS. What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet?
  CRESSIDA. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.
  PANDARUS. 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.
  TROILUS. You know now your hostages: your uncle's word and my firm
    faith.
  PANDARUS. 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.
  CRESSIDA. Boldness comes to me now and brings me heart.
    Prince Troilus, I have lov'd 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.
    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.
  TROILUS. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.
  PANDARUS. Pretty, i' faith.
  CRESSIDA. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me;
    'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss.
    I am asham'd. O heavens! what have I done?
    For this time will I take my leave, my lord.
  TROILUS. Your leave, sweet Cressid!
  PANDARUS. Leave! An you take leave till to-morrow morning-
  CRESSIDA. Pray you, content you.
  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? I know not what I speak.
  TROILUS. Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely.
  CRESSIDA. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love;
    And fell so roundly to a large confession
    To angle for your thoughts; but you are wise-
    Or else you love not; for to be wise and love
    Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.
  TROILUS. O that I thought it could be in a woman-
    As, if it can, I will presume in you-
    To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love;
    To keep her constancy in plight and youth,
    Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind
    That doth renew swifter than blood decays!
    Or that persuasion could but thus convince me
    That my integrity and truth to you
    Might be affronted with the match and weight
    Of such a winnowed purity in love.
    How were I then uplifted! but, alas,
    I am as true as truth's simplicity,
    And simpler than the infancy of truth.
  CRESSIDA. In that I'll war with you.
  TROILUS. O virtuous fight,
    When right with right wars who shall be most right!
    True swains in love shall in the world to come
    Approve their truth by Troilus, when their rhymes,
    Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,
    Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration-
    As true as steel, as plantage to the moon,
    As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,
    As iron to adamant, as earth to th' centre-
    Yet, after all comparisons of truth,
    As truth's authentic author to be cited,
    'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse
    And sanctify the numbers.
  CRESSIDA. Prophet may you be!
    If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
    When time is old and hath forgot itself,
    When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy,
    And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,
    And mighty states characterless are grated
    To dusty nothing-yet let memory
    From false to false, among false maids in love,
    Upbraid my falsehood when th' have said 'As false
    As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,
    As fox to lamb, or wolf to heifer's calf,
    Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son'-
    Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
    'As false as Cressid.'
  PANDARUS. Go to, a bargain made; seal it, seal it; I'll be the
    witness. Here I hold your hand; here my cousin's. If ever you
    prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to
    bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be call'd to
    the world's end after my name-call them all Pandars; let all
    constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all
    brokers between Pandars. Say 'Amen.'
  TROILUS. Amen.
  CRESSIDA. Amen.
  PANDARUS. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber
    and a bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of your
    pretty encounters, press it to death. Away!
    And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here,
    Bed, chamber, pander, to provide this gear!
Exeunt

ACT III. SCENE 3.
The Greek camp

Flourish. Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, NESTOR, AJAX,
MENELAUS, and CALCHAS

  CALCHAS. Now, Princes, for the service I have done,
    Th' advantage of the time prompts me aloud
    To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind
    That, through the sight I bear in things to come,
    I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
    Incurr'd a traitor's name, expos'd myself
    From certain and possess'd conveniences
    To doubtful fortunes, sequest'ring from me all
    That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
    Made tame and most familiar to my nature;
    And here, to do you service, am become
    As new into the world, strange, unacquainted-
    I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
    To give me now a little benefit
    Out of those many regist'red in promise,
    Which you say live to come in my behalf.
  AGAMEMNON. What wouldst thou of us, Troyan? Make demand.
  CALCHAS. You have a Troyan prisoner call'd Antenor,
    Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear.
    Oft have you-often have you thanks therefore-
    Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange,
    Whom Troy hath still denied; but this Antenor,
    I know, is such a wrest in their affairs
    That their negotiations all must slack
    Wanting his manage; and they will almost
    Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,
    In change of him. Let him be sent, great Princes,
    And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence
    Shall quite strike off all service I have done
    In most accepted pain.
  AGAMEMNON. Let Diomedes bear him,
    And bring us Cressid hither. Calchas shall have
    What he requests of us. Good Diomed,
    Furnish you fairly for this interchange;
    Withal, bring word if Hector will to-morrow
    Be answer'd in his challenge. Ajax is ready.
  DIOMEDES. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden
    Which I am proud to bear.
                                  Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS

           ACHILLES and PATROCLUS stand in their tent

  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 turn'd on him?
    If so, I have derision med'cinable
    To use between your strangeness and his pride,
    Which his own will shall have desire to drink.
    It may do good. Pride hath no other glass
    To show itself but pride; for supple knees
    Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees.
  AGAMEMNON. We'll execute your purpose, and put on
    A form of strangeness as we pass along.
    So do each lord; and either greet him not,
    Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
    Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.
  ACHILLES. What comes the general to speak with me?
    You know my mind. I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.
  AGAMEMNON. What says Achilles? Would he aught with us?
  NESTOR. Would you, my lord, aught with the general?
  ACHILLES. No.
  NESTOR. Nothing, my lord.
  AGAMEMNON. The better.
                                  Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR
  ACHILLES. Good day, good day.
  MENELAUS. How do you? How do you?
Exit
  ACHILLES. What, does the cuckold scorn me?
  AJAX. How now, Patroclus?
  ACHILLES. Good morrow, Ajax.
  AJAX. Ha?
  ACHILLES. Good morrow.
  AJAX. Ay, and good next day too.
Exit
  ACHILLES. What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?
  PATROCLUS. They pass by strangely. They were us'd to bend,
    To send their smiles before them to Achilles,
    To come as humbly as they us'd to creep
    To holy altars.
  ACHILLES. What, am I poor of late?
    'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune,
    Must fall out with men too. What the declin'd is,
    He shall as soon read in the eyes of others
    As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
    Show not their mealy wings but to the summer;
    And not a man for being simply man
    Hath any honour, but honour for those honours
    That are without him, as place, riches, and favour,
    Prizes of accident, as oft as merit;
    Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
    The love that lean'd on them as slippery too,
    Doth one pluck down another, and together
    Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:
    Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy
    At ample point all that I did possess
    Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out
    Something not worth in me such rich beholding
    As they have often given. Here is Ulysses.
    I'll interrupt his reading.
    How now, Ulysses!
  ULYSSES. Now, great Thetis' son!
  ACHILLES. What are you reading?
  ULYSSES. A strange fellow here
    Writes me that man-how dearly ever parted,
    How much in having, or without or in-
    Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
    Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;
    As when his virtues shining upon others
    Heat them, and they retort that heat again
    To the first giver.
  ACHILLES. This is not strange, Ulysses.
    The beauty that is borne here in the face
    The bearer knows not, but commends itself
    To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself-
    That most pure spirit of sense-behold itself,
    Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed
    Salutes each other with each other's form;
    For speculation turns not to itself
    Till it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd there
    Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all.
  ULYSSES. I do not strain at the position-
    It is familiar-but at the author's drift;
    Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves
    That no man is the lord of anything,
    Though in and of him there be much consisting,
    Till he communicate his parts to others;
    Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
    Till he behold them formed in th' applause
    Where th' are extended; who, like an arch, reverb'rate
    The voice again; or, like a gate of steel
    Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
    His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this;
    And apprehended here immediately
    Th' unknown Ajax. Heavens, what a man is there!
    A very horse that has he knows not what!
    Nature, what things there are
    Most abject in regard and dear in use!
    What things again most dear in the esteem
    And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow-
    An act that very chance doth throw upon him-
    Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do,
    While some men leave to do!
    How some men creep in skittish Fortune's-hall,
    Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes!
    How one man eats into another's pride,
    While pride is fasting in his wantonness!
    To see these Grecian lords!-why, even already
    They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
    As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
    And great Troy shrinking.
  ACHILLES. I do believe it; for they pass'd by me
    As misers do by beggars-neither gave to me
    Good word nor look. What, are my deeds forgot?
  ULYSSES. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
    Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
    A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes.
    Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd
    As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
    As done. Perseverance, dear my lord,
    Keeps honour bright. To have done is to hang
    Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
    In monumental mock'ry. Take the instant way;
    For honour travels in a strait so narrow -
    Where one but goes abreast. Keep then the path,
    For emulation hath a thousand sons
    That one by one pursue; if you give way,
    Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
    Like to an ent'red tide they all rush by
    And leave you hindmost;
    Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
    Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
    O'er-run and trampled on. Then what they do in present,
    Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours;
    For Time is like a fashionable host,
    That slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand;
    And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
    Grasps in the corner. The welcome ever smiles,
    And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek
    Remuneration for the thing it was;
    For beauty, wit,
    High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
    Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
    To envious and calumniating Time.
    One touch of nature makes the whole world kin-
    That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,
    Though they are made and moulded of things past,
    And give to dust that is a little gilt
    More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
    The present eye praises the present object.
    Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
    That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax,
    Since things in motion sooner catch the eye
    Than what stirs not. The cry went once on thee,
    And still it might, and yet it may again,
    If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive
    And case thy reputation in thy tent,
    Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late
    Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,
    And drave great Mars to faction.
  ACHILLES. Of this my privacy
    I have strong reasons.
  ULYSSES. But 'gainst your privacy
    The reasons are more potent and heroical.
    'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
    With one of Priam's daughters.
  ACHILLES. Ha! known!
  ULYSSES. Is that a wonder?
    The providence that's in a watchful state
    Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;
    Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps;
    Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods,
    Do thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
    There is a mystery-with whom relation
    Durst never meddle-in the soul of state,
    Which hath an operation more divine
    Than breath or pen can give expressure to.
    All the commerce that you have had with Troy
    As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord;
    And better would it fit Achilles much
    To throw down Hector than Polyxena.
    But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,
    When fame shall in our island sound her trump,
    And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing
    'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;
    But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.'
    Farewell, my lord. I as your lover speak.
    The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.
Exit
  PATROCLUS. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you.
    A woman impudent and mannish grown
    Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
    In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this;
    They think my little stomach to the war
    And your great love to me restrains you thus.
    Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
    Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
    And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
    Be shook to airy air.
  ACHILLES. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
  PATROCLUS. Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.
  ACHILLES. I see my reputation is at stake;
    My fame is shrewdly gor'd.
  PATROCLUS. O, then, beware:
    Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves;
    Omission to do what is necessary
    Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
    And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
    Even then when they sit idly in the sun.
  ACHILLES. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus.
    I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
    T' invite the Troyan lords, after the combat,
    To see us here unarm'd. I have a woman's longing,
    An appetite that I am sick withal,
    To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;
    To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
    Even to my full of view.

                     Enter THERSITES

    A labour sav'd!
  THERSITES. A wonder!
  ACHILLES. What?
  THERSITES. Ajax goes up and down the field asking for himself.
  ACHILLES. How so?
  THERSITES. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector, and is so
    prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in
    saying nothing.
  ACHILLES. How can that be?
  THERSITES. Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock-a stride and a
    stand; ruminaies like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her
    brain to set down her reckoning, bites his lip with a politic
    regard, as who should say 'There were wit in this head, an
    'twould out'; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as
    fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's
    undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' th' combat,
    he'll break't himself in vainglory. He knows not me. I said 'Good
    morrow, Ajax'; and he replies 'Thanks, Agamemnon.' What think you
    of this man that takes me for the general? He's grown a very land
    fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! A man may
    wear it on both sides, like leather jerkin.
  ACHILLES. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.
  THERSITES. Who, I? Why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not
    answering. Speaking is for beggars: he wears his tongue in's
    arms. I will put on his presence. Let Patroclus make his demands
    to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.
  ACHILLES. To him, Patroclus. Tell him I humbly desire the valiant
    Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my
    tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person of the
    magnanimous and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honour'd
    Captain General of the Grecian army, et cetera, Agamemnon. Do
    this.
  PATROCLUS. Jove bless great Ajax!
  THERSITES. Hum!
  PATROCLUS. I come from the worthy Achilles-
  THERSITES. Ha!
  PATROCLUS. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his
    tent-
  THERSITES. Hum!
  PATROCLUS. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.
  THERSITES. Agamemnon!
  PATROCLUS. Ay, my lord.
  THERSITES. Ha!
  PATROCLUS. What you say to't?
  THERSITES. God buy you, with all my heart.
  PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir.
  THERSITES. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven of the clock it
    will go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he
    has me.
  PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir.
  THERSITES. Fare ye well, with all my heart.
  ACHILLES. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
  THERSITES. No, but he's out a tune thus. What music will be in him
    when Hector has knock'd out his brains I know not; but, I am sure,
    none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings
    on.
  ACHILLES. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight.
  THERSITES. Let me carry another to his horse; for that's the more
    capable creature.
  ACHILLES. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;
    And I myself see not the bottom of it.
                               Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS
  THERSITES. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I
    might water an ass at it. I had rather be a tick in a sheep than
    such a valiant ignorance.
Exit

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In Troy, Pandarus converses with a servant while he waits to speak with Paris and Helen. When they come in, he compliments Helen profusely, and asks her to excuse Troilus if Priam asks about him at dinner that night. Paris and Helen ask where Troilus will be dining, and Pandarus refuses to tell him--but they both guess that he will be in pursuit of Cressida, and they make bawdy jokes about it as they depart to greet the returning warriors. Pandarus finds Troilus pacing about impatiently in an orchard, and assures him that his desire for Cressida will soon be satisfied. He goes out, leaving Troilus giddy with expectation, and brings in Cressida; after urging them to embrace, Pandarus departs. Left alone, they profess their love for one another, and each pledges to be faithful to the other. Pandarus returns, and Cressida worries about what she is doing and considers leaving, but Troilus reassures her and again pledges to be faithful, declaring that thereafter history will say of all lovers that they were as "true as Troilus. " Cressida declares that if she ever strays from him, she hopes that people will say of false lovers that they were as "false as Cressidas. " Pandarus observes the compact, and then leads them off to a secluded bedchamber to consummate their passion. Meanwhile, in the Greek encampment, Cressida's father, Calchas, who has betrayed Troy in order to join the Greeks, asks the Greek general to grant him a favor. He asks that they exchange the Trojan commander Antenor, whom they have recently captured, for his daughter, so that he might be reunited with her. Agamemnon agrees, and orders Diomedes to supervise the exchange. On Ulysses's advice, the Greek commanders then file past Achilles's tent, and scorn the proud warrior, ignoring his greetings and making him uneasy. He goes to Ulysses and asks him why he is being scorned, and Ulysses tells him that he is no longer a hero--that Ajax is the man of the hour, and that because Achilles's own heroic exploits are past, he will be forgotten quickly. That, says Ulysses, is the way the world works: good deeds are quickly forgotten, and only the present is remembered. He then informs Achilles that he knows a secret, namely, that Achilles is in love with a Trojan princess, and suggests that Achilles could restore his fame and honor if he stopped dallying with enemy women and took the field. When Ulysses is gone, Patroclus tells Achilles to follow Ulysses's advice; seeing that his "reputation is at stake" , and Achilles agrees. Thersites comes in and reports that Ajax is now striding about the camp, completely puffed up with his own importance. Patroclus persuades the foul-tongued slave to talk Ajax into bringing Hector, safely conducted by Agamemnon, to Achilles's tent after their fight the next day, so that Achilles may speak with Hector.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT IV. SCENE 1.
Troy. A street

Enter, at one side, AENEAS, and servant with a torch; at another,
PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES the Grecian, and others, with
torches

  PARIS. See, ho! Who is that there?
  DEIPHOBUS. It is the Lord Aeneas.
  AENEAS. Is the Prince there in person?
    Had I so good occasion to lie long
    As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business
    Should rob my bed-mate of my company.
  DIOMEDES. That's my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Aeneas.
  PARIS. A valiant Greek, Aeneas -take his hand:
    Witness the process of your speech, wherein
    You told how Diomed, a whole week by days,
    Did haunt you in the field.
  AENEAS. Health to you, valiant sir,
    During all question of the gentle truce;
    But when I meet you arm'd, 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, I'll play the hunter for thy life
    With all my force, pursuit, and policy.
  AENEAS. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
    With his face backward. In humane gentleness,
    Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life,
    Welcome indeed! By Venus' hand I swear
    No man alive can love in such a sort
    The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
  DIOMEDES. We sympathise. Jove let Aeneas live,
    If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
    A thousand complete courses of the sun!
    But in mine emulous honour let him die
    With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow!
  AENEAS. We know each other well.
  DIOMEDES.We do; and long to know each other worse.
  PARIS. This is the most despiteful'st gentle greeting
    The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.
    What business, lord, so early?
  AENEAS. I was sent for to the King; but why, I know not.
  PARIS. His purpose meets you: 'twas to bring this Greek
    To Calchas' house, and there to render him,
    For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid.
    Let's have your company; or, if you please,
    Haste there before us. I constantly believe-
    Or rather call my thought a certain knowledge-
    My brother Troilus lodges there to-night.
    Rouse him and give him note of our approach,
    With the whole quality wherefore; I fear
    We shall be much unwelcome.
  AENEAS. That I assure you:
    Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece
    Than Cressid borne from Troy.
  PARIS. There is no help;
    The bitter disposition of the time
    Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you.
  AENEAS. Good morrow, all.              Exit with servant
  PARIS. And tell me, noble Diomed-faith, tell me true,
    Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship-
    Who in your thoughts deserves fair Helen best,
    Myself or Menelaus?
  DIOMEDES. Both alike:
    He merits well to have her that doth seek her,
    Not making any scruple of her soilure,
    With such a hell of pain and world of charge;
    And you as well to keep her that defend her,
    Not palating the taste of her dishonour,
    With such a costly loss of wealth and friends.
    He like a puling cuckold would drink up
    The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
    You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
    Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors.
    Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more;
    But he as he, the heavier for a whore.
  PARIS. You are too bitter to your country-woman.
  DIOMEDES. She's bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris:
    For every false drop in her bawdy veins
    A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
    Of her contaminated carrion weight
    A Troyan hath been slain; since she could speak,
    She hath not given so many good words breath
    As for her Greeks and Troyans suff'red death.
  PARIS. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
    Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy;
    But we in silence hold this virtue well:
    We'll not commend what we intend to sell.
    Here lies our way.
Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE 2.
Troy. The court of PANDARUS' house

Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA

  TROILUS. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold.
  CRESSIDA. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down;
    He shall unbolt the gates.
  TROILUS. Trouble him not;
    To bed, to bed! Sleep kill those pretty eyes,
    And give as soft attachment to thy senses
    As infants' empty of all thought!
  CRESSIDA. Good morrow, then.
  TROILUS. I prithee now, to bed.
  CRESSIDA. Are you aweary of me?
  TROILUS. O Cressida! but that the busy day,
    Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows,
    And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
    I would not from thee.
  CRESSIDA. Night hath been too brief.
  TROILUS. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays
    As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love
    With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
    You will catch cold, and curse me.
  CRESSIDA. Prithee tarry.
    You men will never tarry.
    O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off,
    And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up.
  PANDARUS. [Within] What's all the doors open here?
  TROILUS. It is your uncle.

                     Enter PANDARUS

  CRESSIDA. A pestilence on him! Now will he be mocking.
    I shall have such a life!
  PANDARUS. How now, how now! How go maidenheads?
    Here, you maid! Where's my cousin Cressid?
  CRESSIDA. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle.
    You bring me to do, and then you flout me too.
  PANDARUS. To do what? to do what? Let her say what.
    What have I brought you to do?
  CRESSIDA. Come, come, beshrew your heart! You'll ne'er be good,
    Nor suffer others.
  PANDARUS. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia! hast not
    slept to-night? Would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? A
    bugbear take him!
  CRESSIDA. Did not I tell you? Would he were knock'd i' th' head!
                                           [One knocks]
    Who's that at door? Good uncle, go and see.
    My lord, come you again into my chamber.
    You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
  TROILUS. Ha! ha!
  CRESSIDA. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing.
   [Knock]
    How earnestly they knock! Pray you come in:
    I would not for half Troy have you seen here.
                                          Exeunt TROILUS and
CRESSIDA
  PANDARUS. Who's there? What's the matter? Will you beat down the
    door? How now? What's the matter?

                          Enter AENEAS
  AENEAS. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.
  PANDARUS. Who's there? My lord Aeneas? By my troth,
    I knew you not. What news with you so early?
  AENEAS. Is not Prince Troilus here?
  PANDARUS. Here! What should he do here?
  AENEAS. Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him.
    It doth import him much to speak with me.
  PANDARUS. Is he here, say you? It's more than I know, I'll be
    sworn. For my own part, I came in late. What should he do here?
  AENEAS. Who!-nay, then. Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are
    ware; you'll be so true to him to be false to him. Do not you
    know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go.

                       Re-enter TROILUS

  TROILUS. How now! What's the matter?
  AENEAS. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
    My matter is so rash. There is at hand
    Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
    The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
    Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
    Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
    We must give up to Diomedes' hand
    The Lady Cressida.
  TROILUS. Is it so concluded?
  AENEAS. By Priam, and the general state of Troy.
    They are at hand and ready to effect it.
  TROILUS. How my achievements mock me!
    I will go meet them; and, my lord Aeneas,
    We met by chance; you did not find me here.
  AENEAS. Good, good, my lord, the secrets of neighbour Pandar
    Have not more gift in taciturnity.
                             Exeunt TROILUS and AENEAS
  PANDARUS. Is't possible? No sooner got but lost? The devil take
    Antenor! The young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I
    would they had broke's neck.

                     Re-enter CRESSIDA

  CRESSIDA. How now! What's the matter? Who was here?
  PANDARUS. Ah, ah!
  CRESSIDA. Why sigh you so profoundly? Where's my lord? Gone? Tell
    me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?
  PANDARUS. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above!
  CRESSIDA. O the gods! What's the matter?
  PANDARUS. Pray thee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne'er been born!
    I knew thou wouldst be his death! O, poor gentleman! A plague
    upon Antenor!
  CRESSIDA. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you,
    what's the matter?
  PANDARUS. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art
    chang'd for Antenor; thou must to thy father, and be gone from
    Troilus. 'Twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear
    it.
  CRESSIDA. O you immortal gods! I will not go.
  PANDARUS. Thou must.
  CRESSIDA. I will not, uncle. I have forgot my father;
    I know no touch of consanguinity,
    No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me
    As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine,
    Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
    If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
    Do to this body what extremes you can,
    But the strong base and building of my love
    Is as the very centre of the earth,
    Drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep-
  PANDARUS. Do, do.
  CRESSIDA. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks,
    Crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart,
    With sounding 'Troilus.' I will not go from Troy.
    Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE 3.
Troy. A street before PANDARUS' house

Enter PARIS, TROILUS, AENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES

  PARIS. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd
    For her delivery to this valiant Greek
    Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus,
    Tell you the lady what she is to do
    And haste her to the purpose.
  TROILUS. Walk into her house.
    I'll bring her to the Grecian presently;
    And to his hand when I deliver her,
    Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus
    A priest, there off'ring to it his own heart.
Exit
  PARIS. I know what 'tis to love,
    And would, as I shall pity, I could help!
    Please you walk in, my lords.
Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE 4.
Troy. PANDARUS' house

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA

  PANDARUS. Be moderate, be moderate.
  CRESSIDA. Why tell you me of moderation?
    The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
    And violenteth in a sense as strong
    As that which causeth it. How can I moderate it?
    If I could temporize with my affections
    Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
    The like allayment could I give my grief.
    My love admits no qualifying dross;
    No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

                    Enter TROILUS

  PANDARUS. Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks!
  CRESSIDA. O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him]
  PANDARUS. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too. 'O
    heart,' as the goodly saying is,
           O heart, heavy heart,
           Why sigh'st thou without breaking?
    where he answers again
         Because thou canst not ease thy smart
         By friendship nor by speaking.
    There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we
    may live to have need of such a verse. We see it, we see it. How
    now, lambs!
  TROILUS. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity
    That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy,
    More bright in zeal than the devotion which
    Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me.
  CRESSIDA. Have the gods envy?
  PANDARUS. Ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case.
  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?
  TROILUS. And suddenly; where injury of chance
    Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
    All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
    Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
    Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
    Even in the birth of our own labouring breath.
    We two, that with so many thousand sighs
    Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
    With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
    Injurious time now with a robber's haste
    Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how.
    As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
    With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
    He fumbles up into a loose adieu,
    And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
    Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
  AENEAS. [Within] My lord, is the lady ready?
  TROILUS. Hark! you are call'd. Some say the Genius so
    Cries 'Come' to him that instantly must die.
    Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
  PANDARUS. Where are my tears? Rain, to lay this wind, or my heart
    will be blown up by th' root?
Exit
  CRESSIDA. I must then to the Grecians?
  TROILUS. No remedy.
  CRESSIDA. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks!
    When shall we see again?
  TROILUS. Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart-
  CRESSIDA. I true! how now! What wicked deem is this?
  TROILUS. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
    For it is parting from us.
    I speak not 'Be thou true' as fearing thee,
    For I will throw my glove to Death himself
    That there's no maculation in thy heart;
    But 'Be thou true' say I to fashion in
    My sequent protestation: be thou true,
    And I will see thee.
  CRESSIDA. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers
    As infinite as imminent! But I'll be true.
  TROILUS. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
  CRESSIDA. And you this glove. When shall I see you?
  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;
    They're loving, well compos'd with gifts of nature,
    And flowing o'er with arts and exercise.
    How novelties may move, and parts with person,
    Alas, a kind of godly jealousy,
    Which I beseech you call a virtuous sin,
    Makes me afeard.
  CRESSIDA. O heavens! you love me not.
  TROILUS. Die I a villain, then!
    In this I do not call your faith in question
    So mainly as my merit. I cannot sing,
    Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
    Nor play at subtle games-fair virtues all,
    To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant;
    But I can tell that in each grace of these
    There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil
    That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted.
  CRESSIDA. Do you think I will?
  TROILUS. No.
    But something may be done that we will not;
    And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
    When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
    Presuming on their changeful potency.
  AENEAS. [Within] Nay, good my lord!
  TROILUS. Come, kiss; and let us part.
  PARIS. [Within] Brother Troilus!
  TROILUS. Good brother, come you hither;
    And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you.
  CRESSIDA. My lord, will you be true?
  TROILUS. Who, I? Alas, it is my vice, my fault!
    Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
    I with great truth catch mere simplicity;
    Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns,
    With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.

      Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, and DIOMEDES

    Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit
    Is 'plain and true'; there's all the reach of it.
    Welcome, Sir Diomed! Here is the lady
    Which for Antenor we deliver you;
    At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand,
    And by the way possess thee what she is.
    Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek,
    If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
    Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
    As Priam is in Ilion.
  DIOMEDES. Fair Lady Cressid,
    So please you, save the thanks this prince expects.
    The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,
    Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed
    You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
  TROILUS. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously
    To shame the zeal of my petition to the
    In praising her. I tell thee, lord of Greece,
    She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises
    As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant.
    I charge thee use her well, even for my charge;
    For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
    Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
    I'll cut thy throat.
  DIOMEDES. O, be not mov'd, Prince Troilus.
    Let me be privileg'd by my place and message
    To be a speaker free: when I am hence
    I'll answer to my lust. And know you, lord,
    I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth
    She shall be priz'd. But that you say 'Be't so,'
    I speak it in my spirit and honour, 'No.'
  TROILUS. Come, to the port. I'll tell thee, Diomed,
    This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.
    Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk,
    To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
               Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMEDES
                                [Sound trumpet]
  PARIS. Hark! Hector's trumpet.
  AENEAS. How have we spent this morning!
    The Prince must think me tardy and remiss,
    That swore to ride before him to the field.
  PARIS. 'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, come to field with him.
  DEIPHOBUS. Let us make ready straight.
  AENEAS. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity
    Let us address to tend on Hector's heels.
    The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
    On his fair worth and single chivalry.
Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Diomedes comes to Troy to make the exchange of Antenor for Cressida, and he is greeted heartily by Aeneas and Paris. Aeneas goes to fetch Cressida, remarking that this exchange will deal a heavy blow to Troilus; Paris concurs, but says regretfully that they have no choice: "the bitter disposition of the time / will have it so" . After Aeneas is gone, Diomedes is asked who he thinks deserves Helen more--Paris or Menelaus? With great bitterness, the Greek replies that both deserve her, since both are fools, willing to pay a great price in blood for a "whore." Meanwhile, as morning breaks, Troilus takes a regretful leave of Cressida while she pleas with him to stay a little longer. Pandarus comes in and makes several bawdy jokes about their recent lovemaking; suddenly, there is a knock at the door, and Cressida hides Troilus in her bedroom. Aeneas enters, and demands that Pandarus bring out Troilus. When the young prince emerges, Aeneas gives him the heavy news that Cressida must be sent to her father in the Greek camp. Troilus is distraught, and goes with Aeneas to see his father, Priam, while Pandarus breaks the news to Cressida, who begins to weep. Troilus brings Diomedes, together with the great lords of Troy, to Cressida's house, and begs leave to say goodbye to his lady. When they are alone, he pledges to be faithful, and Cressida promises that even in the Greek camp, she will remain true to him. Then Diomedes is brought in, and Troilus demands that he "use her well...for, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, / Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, / I'll cut thy throat" . Diomedes retorts that he will make no promises--he will treat Cressida as she deserves, but not because any Trojan prince orders him to. At that moment, a trumpet sounds, calling them all to the Greek camp for the duel between Hector and Ajax.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT V. SCENE 2.
The Grecian camp. Before CALCHAS' tent

Enter DIOMEDES

  DIOMEDES. What, are you up here, ho? Speak.
  CALCHAS. [Within] Who calls?
  DIOMEDES. Diomed. Calchas, I think. Where's your daughter?
  CALCHAS. [Within] She comes to you.

      Enter TROILUS and ULYSSES, at a distance; after them
                        THERSITES

  ULYSSES. Stand where the torch may not discover us.

                     Enter CRESSIDA

  TROILUS. Cressid comes forth to him.
  DIOMEDES. How now, my charge!
  CRESSIDA. Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a word with you.
[Whispers]
  TROILUS. Yea, so familiar!
  ULYSSES. She will sing any man at first sight.
  THERSITES. And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff;
    she's noted.
  DIOMEDES. Will you remember?
  CRESSIDA. Remember? Yes.
  DIOMEDES. Nay, but do, then;
    And let your mind be coupled with your words.
  TROILUS. What shall she remember?
  ULYSSES. List!
  CRESSIDA. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.
  THERSITES. Roguery!
  DIOMEDES. Nay, then-
  CRESSIDA. I'll tell you what-
  DIOMEDES. Fo, fo! come, tell a pin; you are a forsworn-
  CRESSIDA. In faith, I cannot. What would you have me do?
  THERSITES. A juggling trick, to be secretly open.
  DIOMEDES. What did you swear you would bestow on me?
  CRESSIDA. I prithee, do not hold me to mine oath;
    Bid me do anything but that, sweet Greek.
  DIOMEDES. Good night.
  TROILUS. Hold, patience!
  ULYSSES. How now, Troyan!
  CRESSIDA. Diomed!
  DIOMEDES. No, no, good night; I'll be your fool no more.
  TROILUS. Thy better must.
  CRESSIDA. Hark! a word in your ear.
  TROILUS. O plague and madness!
  ULYSSES. You are moved, Prince; let us depart, I pray,
    Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
    To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous;
    The time right deadly; I beseech you, go.
  TROILUS. Behold, I pray you.
  ULYSSES. Nay, good my lord, go off;
    You flow to great distraction; come, my lord.
  TROILUS. I prithee stay.
  ULYSSES. You have not patience; come.
  TROILUS. I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell's torments,
    I will not speak a word.
  DIOMEDES. And so, good night.
  CRESSIDA. Nay, but you part in anger.
  TROILUS. Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth!
  ULYSSES. How now, my lord?
  TROILUS. By Jove, I will be patient.
  CRESSIDA. Guardian! Why, Greek!
  DIOMEDES. Fo, fo! adieu! you palter.
  CRESSIDA. In faith, I do not. Come hither once again.
  ULYSSES. You shake, my lord, at something; will you go?
    You will break out.
  TROILUS. She strokes his cheek.
  ULYSSES. Come, come.
  TROILUS. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word:
    There is between my will and all offences
    A guard of patience. Stay a little while.
  THERSITES. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump and potato
    finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry!
  DIOMEDES. But will you, then?
  CRESSIDA. In faith, I will, lo; never trust me else.
  DIOMEDES. Give me some token for the surety of it.
  CRESSIDA. I'll fetch you one.
Exit
  ULYSSES. You have sworn patience.
  TROILUS. Fear me not, my lord;
    I will not be myself, nor have cognition
    Of what I feel. I am all patience.

                    Re-enter CRESSIDA

  THERSITES. Now the pledge; now, now, now!
  CRESSIDA. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.
  TROILUS. O beauty! where is thy faith?
  ULYSSES. My lord!
  TROILUS. I will be patient; outwardly I will.
  CRESSIDA. You look upon that sleeve; behold it well.
    He lov'd me-O false wench!-Give't me again.
  DIOMEDES. Whose was't?
  CRESSIDA. It is no matter, now I ha't again.
    I will not meet with you to-morrow night.
    I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more.
  THERSITES. Now she sharpens. Well said, whetstone.
  DIOMEDES. I shall have it.
  CRESSIDA. What, this?
  DIOMEDES. Ay, that.
  CRESSIDA. O all you gods! O pretty, pretty pledge!
    Thy master now lies thinking on his bed
    Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove,
    And gives memorial dainty kisses to it,
    As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me;
    He that takes that doth take my heart withal.
  DIOMEDES. I had your heart before; this follows it.
  TROILUS. I did swear patience.
  CRESSIDA. You shall not have it, Diomed; faith, you shall not;
    I'll give you something else.
  DIOMEDES. I will have this. Whose was it?
  CRESSIDA. It is no matter.
  DIOMEDES. Come, tell me whose it was.
  CRESSIDA. 'Twas one's that lov'd me better than you will.
    But, now you have it, take it.
  DIOMEDES. Whose was it?
  CRESSIDA. By all Diana's waiting women yond,
    And by herself, I will not tell you whose.
  DIOMEDES. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm,
    And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.
  TROILUS. Wert thou the devil and wor'st it on thy horn,
    It should be challeng'd.
  CRESSIDA. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past; and yet it is not;
    I will not keep my word.
  DIOMEDES. Why, then farewell;
    Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.
  CRESSIDA. You shall not go. One cannot speak a word
    But it straight starts you.
  DIOMEDES. I do not like this fooling.
  THERSITES. Nor I, by Pluto; but that that likes not you
    Pleases me best.
  DIOMEDES. What, shall I come? The hour-
  CRESSIDA. Ay, come-O Jove! Do come. I shall be plagu'd.
  DIOMEDES. Farewell till then.
  CRESSIDA. Good night. I prithee come.     Exit DIOMEDES
    Troilus, farewell! One eye yet looks on thee;
    But with my heart the other eye doth see.
    Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find,
    The error of our eye directs our mind.
    What error leads must err; O, then conclude,
    Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude.
Exit
  THERSITES. A proof of strength she could not publish more,
    Unless she said 'My mind is now turn'd whore.'
  ULYSSES. All's done, my lord.
  TROILUS. It is.
  ULYSSES. Why stay we, then?
  TROILUS. To make a recordation to my soul
    Of every syllable that here was spoke.
    But if I tell how these two did coact,
    Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
    Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
    An esperance so obstinately strong,
    That doth invert th' attest of eyes and ears;
    As if those organs had deceptious functions
    Created only to calumniate.
    Was Cressid here?
  ULYSSES. I cannot conjure, Troyan.
  TROILUS. She was not, sure.
  ULYSSES. Most sure she was.
  TROILUS. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.
  ULYSSES. Nor mine, my lord. Cressid was here but now.
  TROILUS. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood.
    Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage
    To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme,
    For depravation, to square the general sex
    By Cressid's rule. Rather think this not Cressid.
  ULYSSES. What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our mothers?
  TROILUS. Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
  THERSITES. Will 'a swagger himself out on's own eyes?
  TROILUS. This she? No; this is Diomed's Cressida.
    If beauty have a soul, this is not she;
    If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies,
    If sanctimony be the god's delight,
    If there be rule in unity itself,
    This was not she. O madness of discourse,
    That cause sets up with and against itself!
    Bifold authority! where reason can revolt
    Without perdition, and loss assume all reason
    Without revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid.
    Within my soul there doth conduce a fight
    Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate
    Divides more wider than the sky and earth;
    And yet the spacious breadth of this division
    Admits no orifex for a point as subtle
    As Ariachne's broken woof to enter.
    Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates:
    Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven.
    Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself:
    The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and loos'd;
    And with another knot, five-finger-tied,
    The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
    The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy relics
    Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.
  ULYSSES. May worthy Troilus be half-attach'd
    With that which here his passion doth express?
  TROILUS. Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well
    In characters as red as Mars his heart
    Inflam'd with Venus. Never did young man fancy
    With so eternal and so fix'd a soul.
    Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressid love,
    So much by weight hate I her Diomed.
    That sleeve is mine that he'll bear on his helm;
    Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill
    My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful spout
    Which shipmen do the hurricano call,
    Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun,
    Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
    In his descent than shall my prompted sword
    Falling on Diomed.
  THERSITES. He'll tickle it for his concupy.
  TROILUS. O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false!
    Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,
    And they'll seem glorious.
  ULYSSES. O, contain yourself;
    Your passion draws ears hither.

                       Enter AENEAS

  AENEAS. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord.
    Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy;
    Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home.
  TROILUS. Have with you, Prince. My courteous lord, adieu.
    Fairwell, revolted fair!-and, Diomed,
    Stand fast and wear a castle on thy head.
  ULYSSES. I'll bring you to the gates.
  TROILUS. Accept distracted thanks.

            Exeunt TROILUS, AENEAS. and ULYSSES

  THERSITES. Would I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like
    a raven; I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me
    anything for the intelligence of this whore; the parrot will not
    do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab. Lechery,
    lechery! Still wars and lechery! Nothing else holds fashion. A
    burning devil take them!
Exit

ACT V. SCENE 3.
Troy. Before PRIAM'S palace

Enter HECTOR and ANDROMACHE

  ANDROMACHE. When was my lord so much ungently temper'd
    To stop his ears against admonishment?
    Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.
  HECTOR. You train me to offend you; get you in.
    By all the everlasting gods, I'll go.
  ANDROMACHE. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day.
  HECTOR. No more, I say.

                    Enter CASSANDRA

  CASSANDRA. Where is my brother Hector?
  ANDROMACHE. Here, sister, arm'd, and bloody in intent.
    Consort with me in loud and dear petition,
    Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt
    Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night
    Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.
  CASSANDRA. O, 'tis true!
  HECTOR. Ho! bid my trumpet sound.
  CASSANDRA. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother!
  HECTOR. Be gone, I say. The gods have heard me swear.
  CASSANDRA. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;
    They are polluted off'rings, more abhorr'd
    Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
  ANDROMACHE. O, be persuaded! Do not count it holy
    To hurt by being just. It is as lawful,
    For we would give much, to use violent thefts
    And rob in the behalf of charity.
  CASSANDRA. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow;
    But vows to every purpose must not hold.
    Unarm, sweet Hector.
  HECTOR. Hold you still, I say.
    Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate.
    Life every man holds dear; but the dear man
    Holds honour far more precious dear than life.

                      Enter TROILUS

    How now, young man! Mean'st thou to fight to-day?
  ANDROMACHE. Cassandra, call my father to persuade.
                                 Exit CASSANDRA
  HECTOR. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth;
    I am to-day i' th' vein of chivalry.
    Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
    And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.
    Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
    I'll stand to-day for thee and me and Troy.
  TROILUS. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you
    Which better fits a lion than a man.
  HECTOR. What vice is that, good Troilus?
    Chide me for it.
  TROILUS. When many times the captive Grecian falls,
    Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
    You bid them rise and live.
  HECTOR. O, 'tis fair play!
  TROILUS. Fool's play, by heaven, Hector.
  HECTOR. How now! how now!
  TROILUS. For th' love of all the gods,
    Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mother;
    And when we have our armours buckled on,
    The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords,
    Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth!
  HECTOR. Fie, savage, fie!
  TROILUS. Hector, then 'tis wars.
  HECTOR. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day.
  TROILUS. Who should withhold me?
    Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
    Beck'ning with fiery truncheon my retire;
    Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,
    Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears;
    Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn,
    Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way,
    But by my ruin.

              Re-enter CASSANDRA, with PRIAM

  CASSANDRA. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast;
    He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay,
    Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,
    Fall all together.
  PRIAM. Come, Hector, come, go back.
    Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath had visions;
    Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself
    Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt
    To tell thee that this day is ominous.
    Therefore, come back.
  HECTOR. Aeneas is a-field;
    And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks,
    Even in the faith of valour, to appear
    This morning to them.
  PRIAM. Ay, but thou shalt not go.
  HECTOR. I must not break my faith.
    You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir,
    Let me not shame respect; but give me leave
    To take that course by your consent and voice
    Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam.
  CASSANDRA. O Priam, yield not to him!
  ANDROMACHE. Do not, dear father.
  HECTOR. Andromache, I am offended with you.
    Upon the love you bear me, get you in.
                                     Exit ANDROMACHE
  TROILUS. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl
    Makes all these bodements.
  CASSANDRA. O, farewell, dear Hector!
    Look how thou diest. Look how thy eye turns pale.
    Look how thy wounds do bleed at many vents.
    Hark how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out;
    How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth;
    Behold distraction, frenzy, and amazement,
    Like witless antics, one another meet,
    And all cry, Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector!
  TROILUS. Away, away!
  CASSANDRA. Farewell!-yet, soft! Hector, I take my leave.
    Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive.
Exit
  HECTOR. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim.
    Go in, and cheer the town; we'll forth, and fight,
    Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night.
  PRIAM. Farewell. The gods with safety stand about thee!
                           Exeunt severally PRIAM and HECTOR.
Alarums
  TROILUS. They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe,
    I come to lose my arm or win my sleeve.

                     Enter PANDARUS

  PANDARUS. Do you hear, my lord? Do you hear?
  TROILUS. What now?
  PANDARUS. Here's a letter come from yond poor girl.
  TROILUS. Let me read.
  PANDARUS. A whoreson tisick, a whoreson rascally tisick so troubles
    me, and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing,
    what another, that I shall leave you one o' th's days; and I have
    a rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones that
    unless a man were curs'd I cannot tell what to think on't. What
    says she there?
  TROILUS. Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart;
    Th' effect doth operate another way.
                                      [Tearing the letter]
    Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together.
    My love with words and errors still she feeds,
    But edifies another with her deeds.   Exeunt severally

ACT V. SCENE 4.
The plain between Troy and the Grecian camp

Enter THERSITES. Excursions

  THERSITES. Now they are clapper-clawing one another; I'll go look
    on. That dissembling abominable varlet, Diomed, has got that same
    scurvy doting foolish young knave's sleeve of Troy there in his
    helm. I would fain see them meet, that that same young Troyan ass
    that loves the whore there might send that Greekish whoremasterly
    villain with the sleeve back to the dissembling luxurious drab of
    a sleeve-less errand. A th' t'other side, the policy of those
    crafty swearing rascals-that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese,
    Nestor, and that same dog-fox, Ulysses -is not prov'd worth a
    blackberry. They set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax,
    against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles; and now is the cur,
    Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to-day;
    whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy
    grows into an ill opinion.

             Enter DIOMEDES, TROILUS following

    Soft! here comes sleeve, and t'other.
  TROILUS. Fly not; for shouldst thou take the river Styx
    I would swim after.
  DIOMEDES. Thou dost miscall retire.
    I do not fly; but advantageous care
    Withdrew me from the odds of multitude.
    Have at thee.
  THERSITES. Hold thy whore, Grecian; now for thy whore,
    Troyan-now the sleeve, now the sleeve!
                   Exeunt TROILUS and DIOMEDES fighting

                        Enter HECTOR

  HECTOR. What art thou, Greek? Art thou for Hector's match?
    Art thou of blood and honour?
  THERSITES. No, no-I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very
    filthy rogue.
  HECTOR. I do believe thee. Live.
Exit
  THERSITES. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague
    break thy neck for frighting me! What's become of the wenching
    rogues? I think they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at
    that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. I'll seek
    them.
Exit

ACT V. SCENE 5.
Another part of the plain

Enter DIOMEDES and A SERVANT

  DIOMEDES. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse;
    Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid.
    Fellow, commend my service to her beauty;
    Tell her I have chastis'd the amorous Troyan,
    And am her knight by proof.
  SERVANT. I go, my lord.
Exit

                       Enter AGAMEMNON

  AGAMEMNON. Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamus
    Hath beat down enon; bastard Margarelon
    Hath Doreus prisoner,
    And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam,
    Upon the pashed corses of the kings
    Epistrophus and Cedius. Polixenes is slain;
    Amphimacus and Thoas deadly hurt;
    Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes
    Sore hurt and bruis'd. The dreadful Sagittary
    Appals our numbers. Haste we, Diomed,
    To reinforcement, or we perish all.

                        Enter NESTOR

  NESTOR. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles,
    And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.
    There is a thousand Hectors in the field;
    Now here he fights on Galathe his horse,
    And there lacks work; anon he's there afoot,
    And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls
    Before the belching whale; then is he yonder,
    And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
    Fall down before him like the mower's swath.
    Here, there, and everywhere, he leaves and takes;
    Dexterity so obeying appetite
    That what he will he does, and does so much
    That proof is call'd impossibility.

                       Enter ULYSSES

  ULYSSES. O, courage, courage, courage, Princes! Great
    Achilles Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance.
    Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood,
    Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
    That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come to
    him, Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend
    And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd and at it,
    Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day
    Mad and fantastic execution,
    Engaging and redeeming of himself
    With such a careless force and forceless care
    As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
    Bade him win all.

                        Enter AJAX

  AJAX. Troilus! thou coward Troilus!
Exit
  DIOMEDES. Ay, there, there.
  NESTOR. So, so, we draw together.
Exit
                      Enter ACHILLES

  ACHILLES. Where is this Hector?
    Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face;
    Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
    Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
Exeunt

ACT V. SCENE 6.
Another part of the plain

Enter AJAX

  AJAX. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head.

                     Enter DIOMEDES

  DIOMEDES. Troilus, I say! Where's Troilus?
  AJAX. What wouldst thou?
  DIOMEDES. I would correct him.
  AJAX. Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office
    Ere that correction. Troilus, I say! What, Troilus!

                      Enter TROILUS

  TROILUS. O traitor Diomed! Turn thy false face, thou traitor,
    And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse.
  DIOMEDES. Ha! art thou there?
  AJAX. I'll fight with him alone. Stand, Diomed.
  DIOMEDES. He is my prize. I will not look upon.
  TROILUS. Come, both, you cogging Greeks; have at you
                                     Exeunt fighting

                      Enter HECTOR

  HECTOR. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest brother!

                     Enter ACHILLES

  ACHILLES. Now do I see thee, ha! Have at thee, Hector!
  HECTOR. Pause, if thou wilt.
  ACHILLES. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Troyan.
    Be happy that my arms are out of use;
    My rest and negligence befriends thee now,
    But thou anon shalt hear of me again;
    Till when, go seek thy fortune.
Exit
  HECTOR. Fare thee well.
    I would have been much more a fresher man,
    Had I expected thee.

                     Re-enter TROILUS

    How now, my brother!
  TROILUS. Ajax hath ta'en Aeneas. Shall it be?
    No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
    He shall not carry him; I'll be ta'en too,
    Or bring him off. Fate, hear me what I say:
    I reck not though thou end my life to-day.
Exit

                    Enter one in armour

  HECTOR. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a goodly mark.
    No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well;
    I'll frush it and unlock the rivets all
    But I'll be master of it. Wilt thou not, beast, abide?
    Why then, fly on; I'll hunt thee for thy hide.
Exeunt

ACT V. SCENE 7.
Another part of the plain

Enter ACHILLES, with Myrmidons

  ACHILLES. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons;
    Mark what I say. Attend me where I wheel;
    Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath;
    And when I have the bloody Hector found,
    Empale him with your weapons round about;
    In fellest manner execute your arms.
    Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye.
    It is decreed Hector the great must die.
Exeunt

      Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, fighting; then THERSITES

  THERSITES. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it. Now, bull!
    now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double-horn'd Spartan! 'loo,
    Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game. Ware horns, ho!
                        Exeunt PARIS and MENELAUS

                      Enter MARGARELON

  MARGARELON. Turn, slave, and fight.
  THERSITES. What art thou?
  MARGARELON. A bastard son of Priam's.
  THERSITES. I am a bastard too; I love bastards. I am a bastard
    begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in
    everything illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and
    wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most
    ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts
    judgment. Farewell, bastard.
      Exit
  MARGARELON. The devil take thee, coward!
Exit

ACT V. SCENE 8.
Another part of the plain

Enter HECTOR

  HECTOR. Most putrified core so fair without,
    Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
    Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath:
    Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death!
 [Disarms]

              Enter ACHILLES and his Myrmidons

  ACHILLES. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set;
    How ugly night comes breathing at his heels;
    Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun,
    To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
  HECTOR. I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek.
  ACHILLES. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek.
                                        [HECTOR falls]
    So, Ilion, fall thou next! Come, Troy, sink down;
    Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.
    On, Myrmidons, and cry you an amain
    'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.'
                                 [A retreat sounded]
    Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part.
  MYRMIDON. The Troyan trumpets sound the like, my lord.
  ACHILLES. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth
    And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
    My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed,
    Pleas'd with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed.
                                    [Sheathes his sword]
    Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
    Along the field I will the Troyan trail.
Exeunt

ACT V. SCENE 9.
Another part of the plain

Sound retreat. Shout. Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR,
DIOMEDES, and the rest, marching

  AGAMEMNON. Hark! hark! what shout is this?
  NESTOR. Peace, drums!
  SOLDIERS. [Within] Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain. Achilles!
  DIOMEDES. The bruit is Hector's slain, and by Achilles.
  AJAX. If it be so, yet bragless let it be;
    Great Hector was as good a man as he.
  AGAMEMNON. March patiently along. Let one be sent
    To pray Achilles see us at our tent.
    If in his death the gods have us befriended;
    Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.
    Exeunt

ACT V. SCENE 10.
Another part of the plain

Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, and DEIPHOBUS

  AENEAS. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field.
    Never go home; here starve we out the night.

                         Enter TROILUS

  TROILUS. Hector is slain.
  ALL. Hector! The gods forbid!
  TROILUS. He's dead, and at the murderer's horse's tail,
    In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.
    Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed.
    Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy.
    I say at once let your brief plagues be mercy,
    And linger not our sure destructions on.
  AENEAS. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
  TROILUS. You understand me not that tell me so.
    I do not speak of flight, of fear of death,
    But dare all imminence that gods and men
    Address their dangers in. Hector is gone.
    Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?
    Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd
    Go in to Troy, and say there 'Hector's dead.'
    There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
    Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
    Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word,
    Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away;
    Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
    Stay yet. You vile abominable tents,
    Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
    Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
    I'll through and through you. And, thou great-siz'd coward,
    No space of earth shall sunder our two hates;
    I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
    That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts.
    Strike a free march to Troy. With comfort go;
    Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

                        Enter PANDARUS

  PANDARUS. But hear you, hear you!
  TROILUS. Hence, broker-lackey. Ignominy and shame
    Pursue thy life and live aye with thy name!
                               Exeunt all but PANDARUS
  PANDARUS. A goodly medicine for my aching bones! world! world! thus
    is the poor agent despis'd! traitors and bawds, how earnestly are
    you set a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be
    so lov'd, and the performance so loathed? What verse for it? What
    instance for it? Let me see-

          Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing
          Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;
          And being once subdu'd in armed trail,
          Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.

    Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted
    cloths. As many as be here of pander's hall,
    Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall;
    Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
    Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
    Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade,
    Some two months hence my will shall here be made.
    It should be now, but that my fear is this,
    Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss.
    Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases,
    And at that time bequeath you my diseases.
Exit

THE END

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: At Calchas's tent, Diomedes calls to Cressida. Her father fetches her, while Troilus and Ulysses watch from one hiding place and Thersites from another. With Thersites's profanity and Troilus's shock providing a counterpoint, Diomedes woos Cressida, who behaves reluctantly but coyly toward his advances, fending him off for a time but never allowing him to leave. Eventually, she gives him a sleeve that Troilus presented to her as a love-token--then she takes it back, and says that she never wants to see Diomedes again--then she softens, gives it to him once more, and promises to wait for him later, when he will come to sleep with her. When she is gone, and Diomedes too, Troilus is in agony, first denying the evidence seen with his own eyes, and then pledging to find Diomedes on the field of battle and kill him. Finally, as morning nears, Aeneas arrives to lead him back to Troy. In the city, Hector girds for battle, while the women--his wife Andromache and sister Cassandra--plead with him not to go. Both have had dreams that prophesy his death, but he dismisses their warnings. Troilus comes in and says that he will be fighting too; indeed, he chides Hector for having been too merciful to his enemies in the past, saying that today Troilus plans to slay as many men as he can. Cassandra leads Priam in, and the old king pleads with his son not to fight, saying that he too feels foreboding about this day, but Hector refuses to listen and goes out to the battlefield. Pandarus brings Troilus a letter from Cressida; Troilus tears it up and follows Hector out to the field. As the battle rages, Thersites wanders the field, escaping death by brazen cowardice. The Greeks are being driven back, and Patroclus is killed; Agamemnon orders his body brought to Achilles, who is roused to fury and joins the battle. He duels with Hector briefly, but tires and retreats; Hector continues slaying, while Achilles finds the Myrmidons, his men, and sets out to find Hector again. Eventually, as the battle nears its close, Achilles and his men find Hector, who has finished fighting and taken off his helmet. Surrounding the unarmed Trojan, they stab him to death and then tie his body to a chariot and drag it around the walls of Troy. The Trojan soldiers are grief-stricken, and Troilus leads them into the city to bring the heavy news. On the way, he encounters Pandarus, and curses him. Left alone on the stage, the unhappy Pandarus wonders why he should be so abused, when his services were so eagerly desired only a little while before.


prompt:
Chapter: PROLOGUE
                        PROLOGUE

    In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
    The princes orgillous, their high blood chaf'd,
    Have to the port of Athens sent their ships
    Fraught with the ministers and instruments
    Of cruel war. Sixty and nine that wore
    Their crownets regal from th' Athenian bay
    Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made
    To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures
    The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,
    With wanton Paris sleeps-and that's the quarrel.
    To Tenedos they come,
    And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
    Their war-like fraughtage. Now on Dardan plains
    The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
    Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,
    Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,
    And Antenorides, with massy staples
    And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
    Sperr up the sons of Troy.
    Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits
    On one and other side, Troyan and Greek,
    Sets all on hazard-and hither am I come
    A Prologue arm'd, but not in confidence
    Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited
    In like conditions as our argument,
    To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
    Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,
    Beginning in the middle; starting thence away,
    To what may be digested in a play.
    Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are;
    Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The Prologue is an armored soldier, who places the action in the Trojan War and tells the reader/audience of the context of the 2play. Here, the audience learns of the 69 Greek princes, who have sent ships laden with ministers and instruments of War to recapture Helen wife of Greek king Menelaus who has run away with Paris, son of Priam, king of Troy. The Prologue who speaks directly to the audience draws a picture of the Greeks pitching their encampments on the Dardan Plains outside the strong six- gated city of Troy. He places his arrival squarely at the point where the mood of the warriors on both sides has grown spirited, strikes a personal note with the audience and informs them that the action steps over the beginnings of the Trojan War. He goes straight to the more easily dramatized events.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT I. SCENE 1.
Troy. Before PRIAM'S palace

Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS

  TROILUS. Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again.
    Why should I war without the walls of Troy
    That find such cruel battle here within?
    Each Troyan that is master of his heart,
    Let him to field; Troilus, alas, hath none!
  PANDARUS. Will this gear ne'er be mended?
  TROILUS. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
    Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
    But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
    Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
    Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
    And skilless as unpractis'd infancy.
  PANDARUS. Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part,
    I'll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a cake
    out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding.
  TROILUS. Have I not tarried?
  PANDARUS. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
  TROILUS. Have I not tarried?
  PANDARUS. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
  TROILUS. Still have I tarried.
  PANDARUS. Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word
    'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating
    of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too,
    or you may chance to burn your lips.
  TROILUS. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
    Doth lesser blench at suff'rance than I do.
    At Priam's royal table do I sit;
    And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts-
    So, traitor, then she comes when she is thence.
  PANDARUS. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw her
    look, or any woman else.
  TROILUS. I was about to tell thee: when my heart,
    As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,
    Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
    I have, as when the sun doth light a storm,
    Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile.
    But sorrow that is couch'd in seeming gladness
    Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
  PANDARUS. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's-well,
    go to- there were no more comparison between the women. But, for
    my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it,
    praise her, but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as
    I did. I  will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit; but-
  TROILUS. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus-
    When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd,
    Reply not in how many fathoms deep
    They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad
    In Cressid's love. Thou answer'st 'She is fair'-
    Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart-
    Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice,
    Handlest in thy discourse. O, that her hand,
    In whose comparison all whites are ink
    Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure
    The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
    Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'st me,
    As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;
    But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
    Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
    The knife that made it.
  PANDARUS. I speak no more than truth.
  TROILUS. Thou dost not speak so much.
  PANDARUS. Faith, I'll not meddle in it. Let her be as she is: if
    she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the
    mends in her own hands.
  TROILUS. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus!
  PANDARUS. I have had my labour for my travail, ill thought on of
    her and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, but
    small thanks for my labour.
  TROILUS. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with me?
  PANDARUS. Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as
    Helen. An she were not kin to me, she would be as fair a Friday
    as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a
    blackamoor; 'tis all one to me.
  TROILUS. Say I she is not fair?
  PANDARUS. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay
    behind her father. Let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her
    the next time I see her. For my part, I'll meddle nor make no
    more i' th' matter.
  TROILUS. Pandarus!
  PANDARUS. Not I.
  TROILUS. Sweet Pandarus!
  PANDARUS. Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all
    as I found it, and there an end.
                                     Exit. Sound alarum
  TROILUS. Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds!
    Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
    When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
    I cannot fight upon this argument;
    It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
    But Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague me!
    I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar;
    And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo
    As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
    Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
    What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
    Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl;
    Between our Ilium and where she resides
    Let it be call'd the wild and wand'ring flood;
    Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar
    Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

                Alarum. Enter AENEAS

  AENEAS. How now, Prince Troilus! Wherefore not afield?
  TROILUS. Because not there. This woman's answer sorts,
    For womanish it is to be from thence.
    What news, Aeneas, from the field to-day?
  AENEAS. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
  TROILUS. By whom, Aeneas?
  AENEAS. Troilus, by Menelaus.
  TROILUS. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn;
    Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.
[Alarum]
  AENEAS. Hark what good sport is out of town to-day!
  TROILUS. Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.'
    But to the sport abroad. Are you bound thither?
  AENEAS. In all swift haste.
  TROILUS. Come, go we then together.
Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Troilus wonders why he should go to War outside the walls of Troy when a cruel battle is being fought within him-self. He laments his weakness, I am weaker than a womans tear - a weakness caused, he says, by his long wait for the love of Cressida. He is so entranced by Cressida that in trying to conceal his love he fears his heart will rive in twain. He complains that Pandarus, who is attempting to bring about a union of the two, intensifies the agony of his passion by referring to all Cressidas features: her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice. But Pandarus is now exasperated as I have had my labor for my travail, ill thought on of her, and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, but small thanks for my labor. He then pronounces Cressida a fool for staying back while her father Calchas has crossed over to the Greek side. Peace rude sounds! exclaims a woebegone Troilus, who then launches into a monologue that touches on the senselessness of the Trojan War and the unworthiness of the prize for which it is being fought. He then laments about the impossibility of getting to Cressida but by Pander who is as irritable about being used to woo Cressida as she is stubbornly chaste. The Platonic lover who places his beloved on a pedestal, Troilus turns to the hyperbolic mode and imagines Cressida is an exotic pearl lying on faraway India. Between Ilium, the Trojan palace of Priam and where Cressida lives, he deems the open sea, and imagines he is a merchant and Pandarus is the boat that will take him to Cressida who is his eventual destination. Another alarm is sounded and Aeneas enters bearing news that Paris has returned home after being hurt by Menelaus Helens husband. The next alarm is sounded and Aeneas and Troilus exit to find out what is happening on the battlefield.