CASSANDRA.
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;
They are polluted off’rings, more abhorr’d
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
ANDROMACHE.
O, be persuaded! Do not count it holy
To hurt by being just. It is as lawful,
For we would give much, to use violent thefts
And rob in the behalf of charity.
CASSANDRA.
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow;
But vows to every purpose must not hold.
Unarm, sweet Hector.
HECTOR.
Hold you still, I say.
Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate.
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man
Holds honour far more precious dear than life.
Enter Troilus.
How now, young man! Mean’st thou to fight today?
ANDROMACHE.
Cassandra, call my father to persuade.
[Exit Cassandra.]
HECTOR.
No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth;
I am today i’ th’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 today for thee and me and Troy.
TROILUS.
Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,
Which better fits a lion than a man.