TROILUS
I take to-day a wife, and my election Is led on in the conduct of my will; My will enkindled by mine eyes
and ears, Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgment: how may I avoid, Although
my will distaste what it elected, The wife I chose? there can be no evasion To blench from this and to
stand firm by honour: We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, When we have soil'd them, nor the
remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sieve, Because we now are full. It was thought meet Paris
should do some vengeance on the Greeks: Your breath of full consent bellied his sails; The seas and
winds, old wranglers, took a truce And did him service: he touch'd the ports desired, And for an old aunt
whom the Greeks held captive, He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness Wrinkles Apollo's,
and makes stale the morning. Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt: Is she worth keeping?
why, she is a pearl, Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships, And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. If
you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went As you must needs, for you all cried 'Go, go,' If you'll confess he
brought home noble prize As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands And cried 'Inestimable!'why
do you now The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, And do a deed that fortune never did, Beggar the
estimation which you prized Richer than sea and land? O, theft most base, That we have stol'n what we
do fear to keep! But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stol'n, That in their country did them that disgrace, We
fear to warrant in our native place! CASSANDRA
[Within] Cry, Trojans, cry! PRIAM
What noise? what shriek is this? TROILUS
'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice. CASSANDRA
[Within] Cry, Trojans! HECTOR
It is Cassandra.
Enter CASSANDRA, raving CASSANDRA
Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, And I will fill them with prophetic tears. HECTOR
Peace, sister, peace! CASSANDRA
Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld, Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, Add to my clamours!
let us pay betimes A moiety of that mass of moan to come. Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with
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