me 64 Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given for my 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? 16 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, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry hands. 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. 28 Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do. 33 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 49 52 Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,When 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 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 gait, her voice; Handlest in thy discourse, O! that her hand, 57 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, 61 As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her; But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, Tro. Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus! 72 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. 76 Tro. What! art thou angry, Pandarus? what! with me? Pan. Because she's 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-moor; 'tis all one to me. Tro. Say I she is not fair? 97 100 Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, 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. 112 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 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. 31 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 60 Cres. What! is he angry too? Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two. Cres. O Jupiter! there's no comparison. 64 Pan. What! not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him? Creş. Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him. 68 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. 73 Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus, I would he were. Cres. So he is. 76 Pan. Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. Cres. To say the truth, true and not true. 104 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. 113 Pan. I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris. Cres. Then she's a merry Greek indeed. 116 Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other day into the compassed window, and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin,— 120 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. 125 168 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't 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. 180 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. 184 Cres. So I do. Pan. I'll be sworn 'tis true: he will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April. Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May. [A retreat sounded. Pan. Hark! they are coming from the field. Shall we stand up here, and see them as they pass toward Ilium? good niece, do; sweet niece, Cressida. Cres. At your pleasure. 193 Pan. Here, here; here's an excellent place: here we may see most bravely. I'll tell you them all by their names as they pass by, but mark Troilus above the rest. Cres. Speak not so loud. ENEAS passes over the stage. 197 Pan. That's Eneas: 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. 201 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 show you Troilus anon: if he see me, you shall see him nod at me. 208 Cres. Will he give you the nod? Pan. You shall see. Cres. If he do, the rich shall have more. sword is bloodied, and his helmet 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. Cres. Here come more. Soldiers pass over. 259 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 so forth, the spice and salt that season a man? 276 Cres. Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked with no date in the pie, for then the man's date's out. Pan. You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you lie. 281 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. 288 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's past watching. Pan. You are such another! Enter TROILUS' Boy. 293 Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness The herd hath more annoyance by the breese 48 Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, And flies fled under shade, why then the thing of courage, As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize, And with an accent tun'd in self-same key, 53 Retorts to chiding fortune. Ulyss. Agamemnon, Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit, 56 60 [TO NESTOR.] And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life, I give to both your speeches, which were such On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish |