Pandarus is attempting to manage the scene's emotion with sentimentality and crude comfort. He cites love poetry, he embraces them, he tries to make sense of the separation. But he cannot hold the moment together. His presence becomes increasingly irrelevant as Troilus and Cressida face the reality of what is happening.
Be moderate, be moderate.
Be moderate, be moderate.
be moderate, be moderate.
be moderate, be moderate.
Cressida begins by refusing moderation in her grief. But as the scene progresses, she becomes aware of what Troilus is really asking: that she promise fidelity to a man who is about to hand her to enemies. Her responses grow sharper and more wounded. She knows what the promise means.
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.
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.
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.
why tell you me of moderation? the grief is fine, full,
Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks!
Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks!
here, here, here he comes. ah, sweet ducks!
here, here, here he comes. ah, sweet ducks!
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!
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 you without breaking? where he answers again Because you canst not ease your 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!
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 you without breaking? where he answers again because you canst not ease your 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!
what a pair of spectacles is here! let me embrace too. ‘o
Troilus speaks in the language of apocalypse. His metaphor about time — 'Injurious time now with a robber's haste' — is the play's most beautiful and desperate image. He cannot speak plainly about losing Cressida; his language becomes baroque and broken. When he asks for her promise of fidelity, he is simultaneously expressing faith and doubt.
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.
Cressid, I love you 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 you from me.
cressid, i love you 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 you from me.
cressid, i love you in so strain’d a purity that the
Have the gods envy?
Have the gods envy?
have the gods envy?
have the gods envy?
Ay, ay, ay, ay; ’tis too plain a case.
Ay, ay, ay, ay; ’tis too plain a case.
ay, ay, ay, ay; ’tis too plain a case.
ay, ay, ay, ay; ’tis too plain a case.
And is it true that I must go from Troy?
And is it true that I must go from Troy?
and is it true that i must go from troy?
and is it true that i must go from troy?
A hateful truth.
A hateful truth.
a hateful truth.
a hateful truth.
What! and from Troilus too?
What! and from Troilus too?
what! and from troilus too?
what! and from troilus too?
From Troy and Troilus.
From Troy and Troilus.
from troy and troilus.
from troy and troilus.
Is’t possible?
Is’t possible?
is’t possible?
is’t possible?
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 thiev’ry 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.
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 thiev’ry 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.
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 thiev’ry 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.
and suddenly; where injury of chance puts back
Hark! you are call’d. Some say the Genius
Cries so to him that instantly must die.
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
Hark! you are call’d. Some say the Genius Cries so to him that instantly must die. Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
hark! you're call’d. some say the genius cries so to him that instantly must die. bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
hark! you're call’d. some say the genius cries so to him
Where are my tears? Rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown
up by my throat!
Where are my tears? Rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by my throat!
where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by my throat!
where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart
I must then to the Grecians?
I must then to the Grecians?
i must then to the grecians?
i must then to the grecians?
The crucial moment in the scene comes when Troilus demands 'Be thou but true of heart.' Cressida is wounded by this — she hears it as doubt. And she is right. Troilus is about to hand her to Greek soldiers, men of 'quality' and beauty, surrounded by desire. He cannot keep her, so he demands a promise instead. The promise is a form of possession: if he cannot have her body, he will at least have her fidelity. But the tragedy is that fidelity cannot exist under these conditions. Cressida is being asked to be faithful to a man who is giving her away. And within hours (5-2), surrounded by Diomedes' courtship, she will break the promise. The play does not blame her. It shows instead that Troilus's demand was impossible from the start. His love is inseparable from his possessiveness, and his possessiveness ensures his loss.
No remedy.
No remedy.
no remedy.
no remedy.
A woeful Cressid ’mongst the merry Greeks!
When shall we see again?
A woeful Cressid ’mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?
a woeful cressid ’mongst the merry greeks! when shall we see again?
a woeful cressid ’mongst the merry greeks! when shall we
Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart.
Hear me, my love. Be you but true of heart.
hear me, my love. be you but true of heart.
hear me, my love. be you but true of heart.
I true? How now! What wicked deem is this?
I true? How now! What wicked deem is this?
i true? how now! what wicked deem is this?
i true? how now! what wicked deem is this?
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.
Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us. I speak not ‘Be you true’ as fearing you, For I will throw my glove to Death himself That there’s no maculation in your heart; But ‘Be you true’ say I to fashion in My sequent protestation: be you true, And I will see you.
nay, we must use expostulation kindly, for it is parting from us. i speak not ‘be you true’ as fearing you, for i will throw my glove to death himself that there’s no maculation in your heart; but ‘be you true’ say i to fashion in my sequent protestation: be you true, and i will see you.
nay, we must use expostulation kindly, for it is parting
O! you shall be expos’d, my lord, to dangers
As infinite as imminent! But I’ll be true.
O! you shall be expos’d, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent! But I’ll be true.
o! you shall be expos’d, my lord, to dangers as infinite as imminent! but i’ll be true.
o! you shall be expos’d, my lord, to dangers as infinite as
And I’ll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
And I’ll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
and i’ll grow friend with danger. wear this sleeve.
and i’ll grow friend with danger. wear this sleeve.
And you this glove. When shall I see you?
And you this glove. When shall I see you?
and you this glove. when shall i see you?
and you this glove. when shall i see you?
I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet be true.
I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels To give you nightly visitation. But yet be true.
i will corrupt the grecian sentinels to give you nightly visitation. but yet be true.
i will corrupt the grecian sentinels to give you nightly
O heavens! ‘Be true’ again!
O heavens! ‘Be true’ again!
o heavens! ‘be true’ again!
o heavens! ‘be true’ again!
Hear why I speak it, love.
The Grecian youths are full of quality;
They’re loving, well compos’d, with gifts of nature,
Flowing and swelling o’er with arts and exercise.
How novelty may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy,
Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,
Makes me afear’d.
Hear why I speak it, love. The Grecian youths are full of quality; They’re loving, well compos’d, with gifts of nature, Flowing and swelling o’er with arts and exercise. How novelty may move, and parts with person, Alas, a kind of godly jealousy, Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin, Makes me afear’d.
hear why i speak it, love. the grecian youths are full of quality; they’re loving, well compos’d, with gifts of nature, flowing and swelling o’er with arts and exercise. how novelty may move, and parts with person, alas, a kind of godly jealousy, which, i beseech you, call a virtuous sin, makes me afear’d.
hear why i speak it, love. the grecian youths are full of
O heavens! you love me not!
O heavens! you love me not!
o heavens! you love me not!
o heavens! you love me not!
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.
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.
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.
die i a villain then! in this i do not call your faith in
Do you think I will?
Do you think I will?
do you think i will?
do you think i will?
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.
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.
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.
no. but something may be done that we will not; and
Come, kiss; and let us part.
Come, kiss; and let us part.
come, kiss; and let us part.
come, kiss; and let us part.
Good brother, come you hither;
And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you.
Good brother, come you hither; And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you.
good brother, come you hither; and bring aeneas and the grecian with you.
good brother, come you hither; and bring aeneas and the
My lord, will you be true?
My lord, will you be true?
my lord, will you be true?
my lord, will you be true?
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.
Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit
Is plain and true; there’s all the reach of it.
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. Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit Is plain and true; there’s all the reach of it.
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. fear not my truth: the moral of my wit is plain and true; there’s all the reach of it.
who, i? alas, it is my vice, my fault! whiles others fish
Troilus's speech about time ('Injurious time now with a robber's haste / Crams his rich thiev'ry up') is the play's most baroque and beautiful moment. It articulates a fundamental truth: time moves at the wrong speed. When lovers want time to move slowly, it flies. When they want it to stop, it rushes. The metaphor of time as a thief stealing their farewells captures the play's deepest physics. Troilus and Cressida are trying to experience an eternity of parting compressed into moments. The baroque syntax — intricate, suspended, breathless — mirrors the desperate attempt to hold time still. But the attempt fails. Time is a thief that cannot be stopped, and it crams their infinite goodbyes into a single starved kiss. This speech is Troilus at his most eloquent and most helpless. The beauty of the language is inseparable from the futility of the situation.
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.
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.
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.
fair lady cressid, so please you, save the thanks this
Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee
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.
Grecian, you dost not use me courteously To shame the zeal of my petition to you In praising her. I tell you, lord of Greece, She is as far high-soaring o’er your praises As you unworthy to be call’d her servant. I charge you use her well, even for my charge; For, by the dreadful Pluto, if you dost not, Though the great bulk Achilles be your guard, I’ll cut your throat.
grecian, you dost not use me courteously to shame the zeal of my petition to you in praising her. i tell you, lord of greece, she is as far high-soaring o’er your praises as you unworthy to be call’d her servant. i charge you use her well, even for my charge; for, by the dreadful pluto, if you dost not, though the great bulk achilles be your guard, i’ll cut your throat.
grecian, you dost not use me courteously to shame the zeal
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.’
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.’
o, be not mov’d, prince troilus. let me be privileg’d by my place and message to be a speaker free: when i'm 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.’
o, be not mov’d, prince troilus. let me be privileg’d by my
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.
Come, to the port. I’ll tell you, Diomed, This brave shall oft make you to hide your head. Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk, To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
come, to the port. i’ll tell you, diomed, this brave shall oft make you to hide your head. lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk, to our own selves bend we our needful talk.
come, to the port. i’ll tell you, diomed, this brave shall
Hark! Hector’s trumpet.
Hark! Hector’s trumpet.
hark! hector’s trumpet.
hark! hector’s trumpet.
How have we spent this morning!
The Prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him to the field.
How have we spent this morning! The Prince must think me tardy and remiss, That swore to ride before him to the field.
how have we spent this morning! the prince must think me tardy and remiss, that swore to ride before him to the field.
how have we spent this morning! the prince must think me
’Tis Troilus’ fault. Come, come to field with him.
’Tis Troilus’ fault. Come, come to field with him.
’tis troilus’ fault. come, come to field with him.
’tis troilus’ fault. come, come to field with him.
Let us make ready straight.
Let us make ready straight.
let us make ready straight.
let us make ready straight.
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.
Yea, with a bridegroom’s fresh alacrity Let us address to tend on Hector’s heels. The glory of our Troy does this day lie On his fair worth and single chivalry.
yea, with a bridegroom’s fresh alacrity let us address to tend on hector’s heels. the glory of our troy does this day lie on his fair worth and single chivalry.
yea, with a bridegroom’s fresh alacrity let us address to
The Reckoning
This is the play's central tragic scene. Troilus and Cressida face the reality of separation. Pandarus tries to manage it with crude sympathy; Cressida refuses moderation. Troilus speaks in the language of desperation: the gods are jealous, time is a thief, farewells are never enough. Then, crucially, he asks Cressida to promise to be true. The question wounds her — does he doubt her? When she insists she will be true, Troilus then gives her away. The cruelty is perfect: he gets her promise of fidelity, and then he delivers her to a enemy camp where she will be surrounded by men who desire her. The scene shows us that Troilus's love is inseparable from his fear, and his fear is not baseless. When Cressida arrives in the Greek camp (5-2), she will immediately lose her virtue.
If this happened today…
Two lovers face forced separation. One begs the other to promise fidelity. The other feels hurt at the doubt. They exchange tokens. Then the person who demanded the promise hands the other to their rival. The promise becomes the prelude to betrayal.