SCENE 3. Troy. Before PRIAM'S palace
Cassandra, call my father to persuade.
No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth;
I am to-day i' the 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.
Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you
Which better fits a lion than a man.
What vice is that, good Troilus?
Chide me for it.
When many times the captive Grecian falls,
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
You bid them rise and live.
O, 'tis fair play!
Fool's play, by heaven, Hector.
How now! how now!
For th' love of all the gods,
Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mothers;
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!
Fie, savage, fie!
Hector, then 'tis wars.
Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day.
Who should withhold me?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning 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.]
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.