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SCENE I. Troy. Before Prian's Palace. ;

Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARYS.
Tro. Call here my varlet, I'll unarm again : :
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
That find such cruel battle here within ?
Each Trojan, that is master of bis heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas ! hath none.

Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended ?
Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their

Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;"
Bat I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance;
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skill-less as unpractisd infancy.

Pan. Well, I have told you enoởgh of this: for mý part, I'll not' meddle nor 'make no further. He, that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding.

Tro. Have I not tarried?

Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.

Tro. Have I not tarried?

Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.

Tro. Still have I tårried.

Pan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet in the word-bereafter, 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 thoughts, So, traitor!- when she comes! When is sbe 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 'storin),
Bury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile:
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seoming 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 lier, - But I would somebody had heard her talk yeslerday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wil;

Tro. O Pandarús! I tell thee, Pandarus,– ,
When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drowa’d,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench’d: ' 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 cheek, her gail, hier 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 sensei .
Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tel’st me,
As true thou tell'st ine, 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. i . ..,
Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. .. .

Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as slie is: if she be fair, 'lis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.

Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandaras?:

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 sónall thanks for my labour. Hoon

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 me, she would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not, an she were a black-a-inoor; 'lis all one to me. Si | Tro. $ay 1, 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. · Tró. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude

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

It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus— gods, bow do you plague me!
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar;
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd 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 call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself, the merchant; and this sailing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

Alarum. ' Enter ÆNE A'S.
Æne. 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?

Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Tro. By whom, Æneas?

Troilus, by Menelaus.
Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gor’d with Menelaus' horn.'' [Alarum.

Æne. Hark! what good sport is out of town to-day!

Tro. Better at hoine, if would I might, were máy:But, to the sport abroad ;-Are you bound thither? Æne. In all swift haste.

Come, go we then together.

[Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A Street.

Cres. Who were those went by?

Queen Hecuba and Helen.
Cres. And whither go they?

Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience, Is, as a virtue, fix’d, to-day was movid: He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;

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And, like as there were husbandry in war, ilu,
Before the sun rose, he was harness'd light, it is
Avd to the field goes he; where every flower:. :)
Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw in weil
In Hector's wrath.

What was his cause of anger?
Alex. The noise goes this: There is among the Greeks
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew, to Hector;", ni
They call him, Ajax.,

Good; And what of him? Alex. They say he is a very man per se, ... ) And stands alone. ,,

Cres. So do all men ; unless they are drunk, sick, or bave 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: å inạn into whom nature hath so crowded humours, that his valour is crushed into folly, his folly sąuced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue, that he bath 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 every thing ; but every thing 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?

Aler. 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. :: wii Cres. Who comes here? Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.. riiii... 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

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