Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus’ horse;
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid.
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty;
Tell her I have chastis’d the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.
Go, go, my servant, take Troilus's horse. Present the fine steed to my lady Cressida. Fellow, tell her I praise her beauty. Tell her I have defeated the passionate Trojan and am her knight by having proven myself.
Go, take Troilus's horse as a gift for Cressida. Tell her I'm sending it to show how much I admire her. Tell her I've beaten Troilus and now I'm her champion.
take his horse to cressida tell her i beat troilus i'm hers now
I go, my lord.
Yes, my lord, I'll go at once.
I'm on it, sir.
ok
Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas
Hath beat down Menon; bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner,
And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam,
Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Epistrophus and Cedius. Polixenes is slain;
Amphimacus and Thoas deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta’en, or slain; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis’d. The dreadful Sagittary
Appals our numbers. Haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Fight again, fight again! The fierce Polydamas has beaten Menon down. The bastard Margarelon has taken Doreus as a prisoner and stands like a giant, waving his spear over the crushed bodies of the kings Epistrophus and Cedius. Polixenes is slain. Amphimacus and Thoas are mortally wounded. Patroclus is taken or slain, and Palamedes is badly hurt and bruised. The dreadful Sagittary terrifies our troops. We must hurry, Diomed, to get reinforcements, or we'll all die.
Fight on! The Trojans are destroying us! Polydamas has beaten Menon, Margarelon has captured Doreus and is standing over dead kings waving his spear. Polixenes is dead, Amphimacus and Thoas are mortally wounded, Patroclus is dead or captured, and Palamedes is badly hurt. The Sagittary is destroying our men. Diomed, we need reinforcements now or we're finished!
trojans are winning our guys are dying polixenes is dead patroclus captured we need backup now
Diomedes sends Troilus's captured horse to Cressida as a victory trophy — a brutal act of possession in every sense. Troilus has been defeated not just militarily but romantically. The horse is a sign: Diomedes has claimed both Cressida and superiority over Troilus in a single gesture.
Go, bear Patroclus’ body to Achilles,
And bid the snail-pac’d Ajax arm for shame.
There is a thousand Hectors in the field;
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse,
And there lacks work; anon he’s there afoot,
And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls
Before the belching whale; then is he yonder,
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him like the mower’s swath.
Here, there, and everywhere, he leaves and takes;
Dexterity so obeying appetite
That what he will he does, and does so much
That proof is call’d impossibility.
Go, carry Patroclus's body to Achilles and tell the slow Ajax to arm himself out of shame. There seem to be a thousand Hectors on the field. Now he fights on his horse and there's no one left to fight. Then he's there on foot and the Greeks fly or die like fish before a whale. Then he's over there and the weak Greeks who are ripe for his sword fall before him like grass before the mower. Everywhere he goes he kills and takes prisoners. His skill serves his desire so perfectly that what he wants to do, he does, and he does so much that what should be impossible becomes real.
Take Patroclus's body to Achilles and shame Ajax into fighting. Hector is everywhere out there like he's ten men. One moment he's on his horse destroying Greeks, the next he's on foot and they fall like wheat before the mower. He's killing men on all sides. His skill is so incredible that he's doing things that seem impossible.
hector's everywhere greeks falling like wheat his skill is insane impossible things happening
O, courage, courage, courage, Princes! Great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance.
Patroclus’ wounds have rous’d his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack’d and chipp’d, come to him,
Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend
And foams at mouth, and he is arm’d and at it,
Roaring for Troilus; who hath done today
Mad and fantastic execution,
Engaging and redeeming of himself
With such a careless force and forceless care
As if that lust, in very spite of cunning,
Bade him win all.
Oh, courage, courage, courage, Princes! Great Achilles is arming, weeping, cursing, and swearing revenge. Patroclus's wounds have stirred his sleeping warrior spirit, along with his mutilated soldiers who come to him without noses and hands, hacked and chipped, crying for Hector. Ajax has lost his friend and foams at the mouth. He's armed and fighting, roaring for Troilus. Troilus has done wild and amazing fighting today, fighting with such reckless force and yet such careful recklessness as if his desire itself, in spite of all cunning, commanded him to win everything.
Come on, Princes! Achilles is getting armed and he's furious—weeping, cursing, swearing vengeance. His men are bringing him the bodies of the wounded and dead, asking him to fight for them. Ajax has lost a friend and is raging, armed and roaring. And Troilus is fighting like a madman out there—fighting with such wild, passionate force that it's like he's been possessed by pure desire to win.
achilles is furious weeping & cursing swearing vengeance troilus fighting like madman pure desire winning
Troilus! thou coward Troilus!
Troilus! You coward Troilus!
Troilus! You're a coward, Troilus!
hey TROILUS show yourself coward
Troilus's rage at Cressida fuels his combat. Love has transformed into a weapon. The play suggests that romantic passion and martial aggression are closer cousins than civility and war. And it is grief — Achilles for Patroclus — that finally ends the war's stalemate.
Ay, there, there.
Yes, fight there!
Come on, get him there!
yeah there it is
So, so, we draw together.
So, so, we gather together.
Good, we're drawing together now.
coming together
Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face;
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Hector! where’s Hector? I will none but Hector.
Where is this Hector? Come on, come on, you killer of boys, show your face. Learn what it's like to meet an angry Achilles. Hector! Where's Hector? I will fight no one but Hector.
Where is Hector? Come here, you coward! Show yourself and see what it's like to face Achilles when he's angry. I'm not fighting anyone else—only Hector!
where's hector? show yourself i only want hector
The Reckoning
The scene is a battlefield dispatch board — a rapid-fire series of messengers and reports conveying the chaos of the day's fighting. Hector is everywhere and unstoppable. Patroclus has been taken or killed, which triggers the crisis: Achilles, roused by grief, is finally arming. Love has been replaced by rage. The horse Diomedes sends to Cressida as a prize crystallizes what has happened to Troilus — he has been defeated not just militarily but in every sense. The battle is becoming personal for everyone.
If this happened today…
After a brutal day of combat, a series of breathless casualty reports flood in. A soldier sends his girlfriend a trophy from a defeated rival. Another soldier, who had refused to fight, arms himself in grief and fury when his closest companion is killed.