_Hect._ And what are we, but for such men as these? 'Tis adoration, some say, makes a god: And who should pay it, where would be their altars, Were no inferior creatures here on earth? Even those, who serve, have their expectancies, Degrees of happiness, which they must share, Or they'll refuse to serve us.
_Troil._ Let them have it; Let them eat, drink, and sleep; the only use They have of life.
_Hect._ You take all these away, Unless you give up Cressida.
_Troil._ Forbear: Let Paris give up Helen; she's the cause, And root, of all this mischief.
_Hect._ Your own suffrage Condemns you there: you voted for her stay.
_Troil._ If one must stay, the other shall not go.
_Troil._ Once again I say, she shall not.
_Hect._ Our father has decreed it otherwise.
_Hect._ How! no matter, Troilus? A king, a father's will!
_Troil._ Answer me first, And then I'll answer that,--be sure I will,-- Whose hand sealed this exchange?
_Hect._ My father's first; Then all the council's after.
_Troil._ Then you're no more my friend: And for your sake,--now mark me what I say,-- She shall not go.
_Troil._ A boy! I'm glad I am not such a man, Not such as thou, a traitor to thy brother; Nay, more, thy friend: But friend's a sacred name, Which none but brave and honest men should wear: In thee 'tis vile; 'tis prostitute; 'tis air; And thus, I puff it from me.
_Hect._ Well, young man, Since I'm no friend, (and, oh, that e'er I was, To one so far unworthy!) bring her out; Or, by our father's soul, of which no part Did e'er descend to thee, I'll force her hence.
_Troil._ I dare more, If urged beyond my temper: Prove my daring, And see which of us has the larger share Of our great father's soul.
_Hect._ All this, ye gods! And for the daughter of a fugitive, A traitor to his country!
_Hect._ By heaven, too little; for I think her common.
_Hect._ Common as the tainted shambles, Or as the dust we tread.
_Troil._ By heaven, as chaste as thy Andromache. [HECTOR _lays his hand on_ TROILUS'S _arm,_ TROILUS _does the same to him._
_Troil._ No, I do not: Fair Cressida is first; as chaste as she, But much more fair.
_Hect._ O, patience, patience, heaven! Thou tempt'st me strangely: should I kill thee now, I know not if the gods can he offended, Or think I slew a brother: But, begone! Begone, or I shall shake thee into atoms; Thou know'st I can.