Troilus and Cressida

William Shakespeare

• Verlag: Envins Press
• Jahr: 2018
• ISBN:
  9781528785532
• Thema: Literatura
• Thema: Arte dramático shakespeariano

Classic Books Library presents this new beautiful edition of William Shakespeare's tragedy "Troilus and Cressida". Featuring a specially commissioned new biography of William Shakespeare, it is a must for Shakespeare enthusiasts and newcomers alike. Set during the Trojan War, Shakespeare's tragedy tells the story of Troilus, a Trojan prince, and Cressida, the daughter of a Trojan priest, whose romance is compromised when Cressida is exchanged as a prisoner of war and succumbs to her captor, the Greek commander, Diomedes. The play features dual plots; intertwining romance and deceit with the adjoining battle of two warring oppositions, and the play notably culminates in an uncertain end. William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616) was an English playwright, poet, and actor. He is considered to be the greatest writer in the English language and is celebrated as the world's most famous dramatist.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The Grecian Camp.
Before the Tent of Achilles.

[Enter Achilles and Patroclus.]

ACHILLES.
I’ll heat his blood with Greekish wine tonight,
Which with my scimitar I’ll cool tomorrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

PATROCLUS.
Here comes Thersites.

[Enter Thersites.]

ACHILLES.
How now, thou core of envy!
Thou crusty batch of nature, what’s the news?

THERSITES.
Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot worshippers, here’s a letter for thee.

ACHILLES.
From whence, fragment?

THERSITES.
Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.

PATROCLUS.
Who keeps the tent now?

THERSITES.
The surgeon’s box or the patient’s wound.

PATROCLUS.
Well said, adversity! And what needs these tricks?

THERSITES.
Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou art said to be Achilles’ male varlet.

PATROCLUS.
Male varlet, you rogue! What’s that?

THERSITES.
Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping ruptures, catarrhs, loads o’ gravel in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i’ th’ palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries!

PATROCLUS.
Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus?

THERSITES.
Do I curse thee?

PATROCLUS.
Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no.

THERSITES.
No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleave silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal’s purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies, diminutives of nature!

PATROCLUS.
Out, gall!

THERSITES.
Finch egg!

ACHILLES.
My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in tomorrow’s battle.
Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba,
A token from her daug...