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Fan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet in the word "hereafter," the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips.

Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she
be,

Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I sit;

And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughtsSo, traitor! when she comes! when is she thence?

Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else.

Tro. I was about to tell thee:-When my heart, As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain; Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, I have (as when the sun doth light a storm) Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: But sorrow that is couched in seeming gladness, Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.

Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's (well, go to), there were no more comparison between the women—but, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her; but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit; but

Tro. O, Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,-
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drowned,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrenched. I tell thee, I am mad
In Cressid's love: thou answer'st, "She is fair;"
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheeks, her gait, her voice;
Handlest in thy discourse, "O, that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman!" This thou
tell'st me,

As true thou tell'st me, when I say, "I love her;"
But saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given

me,

The knife that made it.

Pan.

I speak no more than truth.

Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in 't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 't is the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.

Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus? Pan. I have had my labour for my travel: ill-thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.

Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?

Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore she 's not so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to ine, she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not, an she were a blackamoor; 't is all one to me.

Tro. Say I, she is not fair?

Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in the matter.

Tro. Pandarus,—
Pan. Not I.

Tro. Sweet Pandarus,

Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave all as I found it, and there an end.

[Exit PANDARUS. An alarum. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds!

Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, When with your blood you daily paint her thus. I cannot fight upon this argument;

It is too starved a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague
me!

I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar;
And he 's as tetchy to be wooed to woo,
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl:
Between our Ilium and where she resides,
Let it be called the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself, the merchant; and this sailing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

Alarum. Enter ENEAS.

Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield?

Tro. Because not there. This woman's answer sorts,

For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?
Ene. That Paris is returnéd home, and hurt.
Tro. By whom, Æneas?

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Alex. They say he is a very man, per se, And stands alone.

Cres. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs.

Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant; a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours, that his valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath

a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of it. He is melancholy without cause, and merry against the hair: he hath the joints of everything; but everything so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.

Cres. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry?

Alex. They say, he yesterday coped Hector in the battle, and struck him down; the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.

Enter PANDARUS.

Cres. Who comes here?

Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Cres. Hector's a gallant man.

Alex. As may be in the world, lady.
Pan. What's that? what's that?
Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of?-Good morrow, Alexander.-How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium? Cres. This morning, uncle.

Pan. What were you talking of, when I came? Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she?

Cres. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.
Pan. E'en so; Hector was stirring early.
Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger.
Pan. Was he angry?
Cres. So he says here.

Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause, too; he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there is Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus; I can tell them that too.

Cres. What, is he angry too?

Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.

Cres. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison. Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him?

Cres. Ay; if ever I saw him before, and knew him.

Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.

Cres. Then you say as I say; for I am sure he is not Hector.

Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees.

Cres. 'T is just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were,

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Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
Cres. To say the truth, true and not true.
Pan. She praised his complexion above Paris.
Cres. Why, Paris hath colour enough.
Pan. So he has.

Cres. Then Troilus should have too much: if she praised him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose.

Pan. I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris.

Cres. Then she's a merry Greek, indeed.

Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him the other day into a compassed window,— and you know he has not past three or four hairs on his chin.

Cres. Indeed a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total.

Pan. Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector.

Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter?

Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him; she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin,—

Cres. Juno have mercy! How came it cloven? Pan. Why, you know 't is dimpled: I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.

Cres. Oh, he smiles valiantly!

Pan. Does he not?

Cres. O, yes! an 't were a cloud in autumn.

Pan. Why, go to, then. But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus,

Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so.

Pan. Troilus? Why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.

Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the shell.

Pan. I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled his chin. Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess.

Cres. Without the rack.

Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.

Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. Pan. But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed that her eyes ran o'er.

Cres. With millstones.

Pan. And Cassandra laughed.

Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes? Did her eyes run o'er too?

Pan. And Hector laughed.

Cres. At what was all this laughing?

Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin.

Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed too.

Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair, as at his pretty answer.

Cres. What was his answer?

Pan. Quoth she, "Here's but one-and-fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white." Cres. This is her question.

:

Pan. That's true; make no question of that. "One-and-fifty hairs," quoth he, "and one white that white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons." "Jupiter!" quoth she, "which of these hairs is Paris my husband?" "The forked one," quoth he; "pluck it out, and give it him." But there was such laughing! and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the rest so laughed, that it passed.

Cres. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by.

Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on 't.

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Cres. At your pleasure.

Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place; nere we may see most bravely. I'll tell you them all by their names, as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest.

ENEAS passes over the Stage.

Cres. Speak not so loud.

Pan. That's Æneas: is not that a brave man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you. But mark Troilus; you shall see anon. Cres. Who's that?

ANTENOR passes over.

Pan. That's Antenor; he has a shrewd wit, I can tell you; and he's a man good enough: he's one o' the soundest judgments in Troy, whosoever, and a proper man of person. When comes Troilus? I'll shew Troilus anon; you if he see me, you shall see him nod at me. Cres. Will he give you the nod? Pan. You shall see.

Cres. If he do, the rich shall have more.

HECTOR passes over.

Pan. That's Hector; that, that; look you, that. There's a fellow! Go thy way, Hector! -There's a brave man, niece. O, brave Hector. Look how he looks! there's a countenance: is't not a brave man ?

Cres. O, a brave man!

Pan. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart goodLook you what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do you see? look you there! There's no jesting: there's laying on; take't off who will, as they say: there be hacks!

Cres. Be those with swords?

PARIS passes over.

Pan. Swords? anything, he cares not: an' the devil come to him, it's all one: by God's lid, it does one's heart good-Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris: look ye yonder, niece; is't not a gallant man, too, is 't not?Why, this is brave now. Who said he came hurt home to-day? he's not hurt: why, this will do Helen's heart good now. Ha! 'would I could see Troilus now! you shall see Troilus anon. Cres. Who's that?

HELENUS passes over.

Pan. That's Helenus :-I marvel where Troilus is!-that's Helenus.-I think he went not forth to-day-that's Helenus.

Cres. Can Helenus fight, uncle?

Pan. Helenus? no;-yes, he'll fight indifferent well:-I marvel where Troilus is! Hark;

do you not hear the people cry, Troilus?— Helenus is a priest.

Cres. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?

TROILUS passes over.

Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus: 'Tis Troilus! there's a man, niece!-Hem!-Brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry.

Cres. Peace, for shame, peace!

Pan. Mark him; note him: O brave Troilus! Look well upon him, niece; look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hacked than Hector's! And how he looks, and how he goes O admirable youth! he ne'er saw threeand-twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way; had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man!-Paris? Paris is dirt to him; and I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot.

Forces pass over the Stage.

Cres. Here come more.

Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die i' the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone; crows and daws, crows and daws!

I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than Agamemnon and all Greece.

Cres. There is among the Greeks, Achilles; a better man than Troilus.

Pan. Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very camel.

Cres. Well, well.

Pan. Well, well!-Why, have you any discretion? have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man?

Cres. Ay, a minced man; and then to be baked with no date in the pie,-for then the man's date is out.

Pan. You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you lie.

Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these: and at all these wards I lie, at a thousand watches. Pan. Say one of your watches.

Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the chiefest of them too: if I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it is past watching. Pan. You are such another!

Enter TROILUS' Boy.

Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. Pan. Where?

Boy. At your own house; there he unarms him. Pan. Good boy, tell him I come: [Exit Boy.

I doubt he be hurt.-Fare ye well, good neice.
Cres. Adieu, uncle,

Pan. I'll be with you, niece, by-and-by.
Cres. To bring, uncle,—

Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus.

Cres. By the same token, you are a bawd.
[Exit PANDARUS.
Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full sacrifice,
He offers in another's enterprise :
But more in Troilus thousand fold I see
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be;
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing:
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing:
That she, beloved, knows nought, that knows not
this,-

Men prize the thing ungained more than it is;
That she was never yet, that ever knew
Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue:
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach,-
Achievement is command; ungained, beseech:
Then, though my heart's content firm love doth
bear,

Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The Grecian Camp. Before AGAMEMNON's Tent.

Trumpets. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR,
ULYSSES, MENELAUS, and others.
Agam. Princes,

What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks?
The ample proposition that hope makes
In all designs begun on earth below,
Fails in the promised largeness: checks and
disasters

Grow in the veins of actions highest reared;
As knots, by the conflúx of meeting sap,
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us,
That we come short of our suppose so far,
That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls

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