Shakespeare & His Achilles Heel
Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart. You may call it melancholy if you will favor the man, but, by my head, ’tis pride.
“Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart. You may call it melancholy if you will favor the man, but, by my head, ’tis pride.” — Troilus and Cressida, Act II, Scene 3, Lines 92-94.
November 8, 2023 was an important day in the life of Bardolators1 everywhere. It was the 400th anniversary of the day the First Folio went on sale. But why do we care? And what is a “folio” anyway?
The “First Folio” is a book containing thirty-six plays written, at least in part,2 by William Shakespeare. It includes 18 never-before published plays that would’ve been lost to history. Before this book, plays were not published in a compendium like this.3 Instead, if the plays were published at all, they were published in small magazine-like “quartos.” The term “quarto” refers to the method of publishing whereby a single sheet of paper was folded to create eight pages of printed works. In contrast, a “folio” is formed when the sheet is folded once to create four pages. The “First Folio” is merely the first book of Shakespeare’s plays printed using this “folio” method.
But the publishing of this book was not an easy endeavor. And one instructive anecdote about that difficulty comes from the play Troilus and Cressida. This play was written between 1600 to 1603, and it was published in quarto form in 1609. The fact that it was published during Shakespeare’s life gives us some comfort that the text represented his words as he intended them, i.e. they weren’t revised beyond recognition during the publishing process (a possibility oft debated in discussing plays published only in the First Folio). There are differences in the text of the quarto-version versus the First Folio version, which leads to the question of whether Shakespeare or someone else revised the play after that first publication.
Another interesting wrinkle in the history of this play is that it nearly didn’t make it into the First Folio. Because it had been published previously, Heminges and Condell (essentially the producers of the First Folio) had difficulty obtaining the rights to publish this play. We know that because a portion of it is included in some Folios as the fourth tragedy after Romeo and Juliet, while the entirety is inputted after the last history, Henry VIII, as the first tragedy.4 It also does not appear on the table of contents. One wonders what other works may have been lost because of those pesky lawyers.5
But, as fate would have it, Troilus and Cressida remains.
The Shake-Scene
This play oddly starts with both a preface and a prologue. The preface appears to be a marketing tool to convince readers to buy it. It’s addressed from a “never writer” to an “ever reader” and only appears in one of the versions of the quarto. And then comes a prologue setting the stage as mid-Trojan War and reminding the audience of the cause of that war and preparing them to enter in media res.
Speaking of setting the stage, it behooves us to also remember the story of the Battle of Troy, and take stock of the various lover configurations. First, we remember Helen who is married to Menelaus (Greek) and stolen by Paris (Trojan) thus starting the war. There is also Achilles (Greek) enamored of a Trojan princess. And finally, there are Troilus and Cressida, but we’ll get to them.
And then there’s early modern genre convention. Basically, tragedy means everyone dies, comedy means everyone marries, and history means there’s an English king in there somewhere. But Shakespeare began experimenting with these genres later in his career, and this play may be a poster-child for that experimentation. But, we’ll get there.
With those particulars out of the way, the play starts in true RomCom fashion. First we meet our male protagonist — Troilus. He’s a big strong warrior who refuses to fight because he’s lovesick and the target of his affections won’t pay him enough attention. He whines to his confidante and her uncle — Pandarus.
Then, we meet our female protagonist — Cressida. She’s aloof and seemingly lukewarm about the affections of Troilus … until she’s alone. And then she confides that she does fancy him, but worries that once his love is requited, he’ll lose interest.
And just like that I’m waiting for the bell for homeroom in sixth grade. Anyone else?
But this RomCom isn’t some preteen romance. It takes place in the city of Troy as it is sieged by the Greeks. And it also doesn’t stay a RomCom. It quickly pivots to a battle epic, banishing all thoughts of this supposed fated lovers as the Greeks plot to win their war.
In the Greek camp, the generals are lamenting the fact that their prize fighters— Ajax and Achilles— won’t fight when Aeneas of Troy enters with a challenge. Hector (prize fighter of the Trojans) challenges the prize fighter of the Greeks to man-to-man combat. Hector has allegedly done this because his wife is worth fighting for, and if no man accepts his challenge it is because “The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not with the splinter of a lance.” And personally, it leaves me wondering: Why we gotta bring women into this? Girls just wanna have fun and the ladies just want to model for clay jars and eat grapes. But boys and their wars, I suppose.
The Greeks accept this challenge but they have a problem. Neither Achilles nor Ajax is willing to fight because they are “too proud.” And yes, we now know we’re in a Shakespearean tragedy because it always boils down to pride and poor communication.
Now at this point I should probably warn you that the Ajax and Achilles of Shakespeare’s play are not the heroic figures one may be be accustomed to from cheesy Brad Pitt movies, Chaucer, or even Homer. Instead, they’re a bit more like … the Rock and Vin Diesel having bicep measuring contests on the set of a Fast and the Furious movie. Have I mentioned how much Shakespeare loved farce?
In Troy, everyone is wondering if Helen is really worth all this trouble. Reluctantly, Hector is convinced by Paris (her lover) and Troilus that she is. Poor dude. Cassandra wanders in to warn that Helen will be their downfall, but, cursed to prophesy and never be believed, she is dismissed as “crazy.” But lest I be similarly branded, I urge you to take a look at the way Paris and Helen’s romance is treated versus that of Troilus and Cressida.
The Greeks are attempting to convince their great warriors to fight. Achilles won’t even meet with them, so they heap praise on Ajax to prepare him for battle. Thus proving the adage, fight fire with fire and ego with ego.
And then finally we return to our lovers, which is what this whole play is about. Right? Pandarus (Cressida’s uncle and Troilus’s friend) convinces Paris to cover for Troilus so that he may miss the feast. Paris knows Troilus is in love with Cressida. She is said to be even more beautiful than Helen. For her part, Helen is a bit vapid and petulant, demanding that Pandarus sing a song. So he sings a song about lovers … dying. Finally, the scene ends with Paris bidding Helen to “Disarm great Hector” and that’s what we call foreshadowing…
But before we can have the carnage of war, we first must have a wedding! Pandarus conspires to have Troilus and Cressida wedded in secret. He’s ever so slightly a better matchmaker than the Friar of R&J, but that bar is low. Cressida doesn’t even speak until line sixty. She tries to be coy, but finally she cannot hold back no longer and confesses her love. She loved him from the moment she saw him and cannot deny it. And then we get a wonderfully romantic exchange that is not quoted near enough:
Cressida: Sweet, bid me hold my tongue,/ For in this rapture I shall surely speak/The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence,/ Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws/ My very soul of counsel! Stop my mouth.
Troilus: And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.
They kiss.
And then they swap beautiful vows of constancy to one another, and Shakespeare makes an ironic wink toward the word “pander” using the name Pandarus. But we’ll get there in a bit.
And then they are wed… far too early in the play. A little Shakespeare hint, if there’s a wedding in the middle, it ends *bad* (looking at you Othello, Romeo & Juliet, and Much Ado About Nothing — Seriously, #JusticeForHero).
But back to war!
It turns out that Cressida’s father, Calchas, has betrayed the Trojans and now lives in the Greek camp. He bargains to have the Greeks trade a Trojan prisoner for his daughter. Uh oh.
That decided, the Greeks turn back to their Mean Girls tactics. They’re all going to walk by Achilles’s tent to snub him, and then Ulysses is going to like totally gossip about why, and it’s definitely going to bring him down a peg. Like, right?
Right.
Ulysses praises Ajax until Achilles pouts. Then he mocks Achilles for being in love with a princess of Troy. He then leaves and Achilles, like the very mature hero of myth he is, mocks Ajax with his friends/servants. The fool Thersites tries to make these ego-mad soldiers see their faults but is unsuccessful.
Speaking of Thersites, I do want to mention that this play, despite being a tragedy, is *hilarious.* A great example of Shakespeare playing with genre.
Diomedes (Greek) arrives in Troy and trades barbs with Aeneas (Trojan) as each gently wish to kill one another. They travel into town with Paris to gather Cressida and send her to the Greeks. Then Paris asks Diomedes whether Helen belongs with him or Menelaus (her husband). Diomedes berates both men for wanting a woman who has caused such death.
Troilus and Cressida wake in post-coital bliss. She tries convince Troilus to shirk his responsibilities and come back to bed. But her argument is disrupted by her lecherous uncle coming to tease the newlyweds. And then comes a knocking at the door. Troilus and Cressida go to hide while Pandarus (her uncle) answers. Aeneas has come to find Troilus. Pandarus tries to play coy about Troilus being in Cressida’s chamber, but Aeneas is not having it. Troilus enters and is told of the exchange. He goes to meet the court of Troy to try and stop it. Cressida enters and is told by her uncle that she must go to her father and the Greeks. She says she will fight to stay.
And then, like that, Troilus gives up. He does not fight for her. Instead, he offers her up like an ‘off’ring to it his own heart.’ We don’t see what led to this change or why it cannot be stopped. Unlike Helen, no one is launching a thousand ships for Troilus’s bride. And, that tricky tricky Shakespeare makes this loss all about Troilus. Pandarus decries the exchange because it will hurt Troilus. Troilus decries the loss as his sacrifice. But what of Cressida? One might argue that this is just a relic of the time but Shakespeare has written real women with dreams and desires and heartbreak. Even the much-infantilized Juliet was cutting-edge for showing a woman desirous of sex. So perhaps the side-lining of Cressida’s heartbreak is purposeful. This is especially telling given the focus on Paris having brought such havoc and slaughter in his pursuit of Helen. Troilus is Paris’s brother, and yet, Cressida is freely traded to continue the war.
The lovers make tearful parting, exchanging love vows. Troilus makes her promise to “be true” as she enters the enemy encampment as a prisoner of war. Because… patriarchy? But no, Shakespeare is too clever for that. Because in exchange Cressida asks if Troilus will be true. And he promises to be … truthful. Purposefully (or not) misunderstanding the meaning.
The Greeks come for the exchange and Diomedes says she will be his mistress. Troilus gets salty about that but takes no action other than words. They exit and Paris and Aeneas ride off to see Hector’s battle (remember that?).
Ajax marches out from the Greeks, followed by their generals, and they come upon Cressida as she is brought to camp. Immediately, she is kissed by all the men – Agamemnon, Nestor, Achilles, and Patroclus. Only Menelaus is denied as his kinsmen mock him for losing his wife Helen to Paris. Again the mirroring is there. Helen, whom we are told is no more beautiful than Cressida, his kept safe in Paris’s bed, while Cressida is immediately passed amongst the Greeks. Menelaus asks for a kiss but she uses her quick wit to avoid. Same with Ulysses. But only when she’s given agency can she decline. But then she’s led to camp and the men are once again engrossed in war.
Hector and Ajax enter fighting. Across the battle, the Greeks spot Troilus and praise his reputation for his blaze of wrath. And the fighting stops. Hector cannot kill Ajax because Ajax is his cousin. They embrace and Hector is invited to the Greek camp. He brings Troilus with him. And it’s all buddy buddy because we all know that’s how this story ends. No giant horses here.
The Greeks welcome the mighty Trojan warriors warmly with mutual respect. There’s a bit of posturing about the war but no one gets particularly heated. In fact, the exchange between Achilles and Hector could easily be read as homoerotic as Achilles bids him to look on him and “behold thy fill.” Achilles points to various parts of Hector, asking the gods “in which part of his body shall I destroy him?” Manly posturing or erotic foreplay? Director’s choice, really.
Everyone else exits, leaving Troilus and the Greek Ulysses. Ulysses tells him where to find Cressida and that Diomedes only has eyes for her. Ulysses asks Troilus if Cressida had a lover and Troilus plays coy.
Then, Achilles receives a letter from Troy with a token from his love – a princess of Troy. This is why he won’t do battle against the Greeks. He has sworn to his love. Hmmmm, that’s a nice lover’s vow you got there, hope you don’t break it.
Achilles hosts Hector, and Troilus sneaks off to follow Diomedes to Cressida. He and Ulysses watch as Diomedes pressures Cressida to be wooed by him. She’s torn. She calls him ‘guardian’ and tries to please him while not sleeping with him. Troilus watches on enraged by her. She goes to give Troilus’s love token to Diomedes but can’t do it. She tells him to see her no more. But he snatches the love token and leaves. Thinking herself alone, she confesses her eye has turned to Diomedes. Troilus rails against them both, pledging to kill Diomedes in battle.
The next day, Hector prepares for battle even though everyone — his wife, sister, father, and mother — say they’ve had prophetic dreams that he will die. Meanwhile, Troilus receives a letter from Cressida but tears it up, complaining that it is nothing but words. This is the last we hear of her and we don’t get to hear her words.
On the battlefield, Troilus and Diomedes fight. Diomedes wins Troilus’s horse and sends it to Cressida. And then the body of Patroclus (Achilles’ bestie) is brought onto the stage and we know the end is night. Because this death is what causes Achilles to break his lover-vow and enter the fray. Achilles is arming to kill Hector. Ajax enters swearing to kill Troilus. The battle is nigh.
Troilus enters and is challenged by both Diomedes and Ajax. He fights them both.
Hector and Achilles fight but it ends in a draw.
Everyone exits and then Paris and Menelaus enter fighting.
Finally, as the sun begins to set, Hector starts to disarm. Achilles enters with his men (the Myrmidons) and instructs them to kill the unarmed Hector. They do. Again, this is not the honorable war of Homer, but a messy farce of pettiness and ego. Both sides sound a retreat, but Achilles ties Hector’s dead body to his chariot and drags it around the walls of Troy.
Troilus and all bemoan his death and the inevitable fall of Troy.
And the play just ends. The lovers still alive but parted. Ajax and Diomedes still alive as well. It is a complete subversion of the genre. In tragedies, your protagonists die. In comedies they marry. Full stop. But this, this is a messy ending that doesn’t tell the audience how to feel. One wonders how it would’ve been received at the time…
Speak the Speech, I Pray You
Bring Shakespeare’s words into your own life by:
Talking smack about your home team’s quarterback— seriously, walk it off;
Explaining why a friend won’t just admit that T-Swift is the bomb;
And . . . diagnosing the real reason your friend won’t play monopoly:
Additional Resources
Find a copy of the entire play here.
Read more about the rights issues in getting Troilus and Cressida added to the First Folio here.
If you’re interested in more Troy-inspired fiction, check out an amazing retelling by Natalie Haynes from the perspective of the women at the center of the story. Find A Thousand Ships here.
Learn more about the 400-year anniversary of the First Folio here.
One obsessed with Shakespeare — https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/bardolater.
The footnote is carrying a lot of water in this sentence. Short version, the writing of the plays was a collaborative endeavor that is subject to extensive scholarly debate. It’s a fun rabbit hole to fall down, should you be so inclined.
Ok, fine. Ben Johnson did it first. But sssshhhhh.
We know this because books were sold unbound during this period of history, so some buyers were provided a stack of the pages that included ‘canceled’ pages containing parts of Troilus and Cressida that inadvertently were bound with the whole.
There are at least two possibly “missing” plays mentioned in the historic record.