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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 tarried.
Pan. 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 thoughts, So, 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 rivet in twain; Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, I have (as when the sun doth light a storm), Bury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: But sorrow, that is couch'd 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 sis. ter Cassandra's wit; but
Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, PandarusWhen I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
Pan. I speak no more than truth.
Pan. 'Faith. I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis better for ber; 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 travail; 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 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-amoor; 'tis all one to me.
Tro. Say 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 l'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in the matter.
leave all as I found it, and there an end.
[Erit Pandarus. An Alarum. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours ! peace,
Æne. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not
afield ? Tro. Because not there; This woman's answer
Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Troilus, by Menelaus. Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. (Alarum, Ane. Hark! what good sport is out of town to
day! Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were
But, to the sport abroad ;-Are you bound thither ?
Æne. In all swift haste.
Come, go we theu together.
The same. A street.
Enter Cressida and Alexander.
Cres. Who were those went by?
Queen Hecuba, and Helen,
Up to the eastern tower,
What was his cause of anger? Alex. The noise goes, this: There is among the
Good; And what of him?
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
Jion, 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 hairt: 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 augry?
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 wakiug.
Cres. Who comes here?
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 where you talking of, when I came ? Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium? TIelen was not up, was she?
Cres. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up,