Look 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? any thing, 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 bloody'd, and his helm more hack'd than Hector's; And how he looks, and how he goes!— O admirable youth! he ne'er saw three and 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 pye,-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 for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it is past watching. Pan. You are such another! you 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 niece. 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 bawd. [Exit Pandarus. Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprize: C But more in Troilus thousand fold I see Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing: That she belov'd knows nought, that knows not this, Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is: Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue: bear, Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. [Exeunt. 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 promis'd largeness: checks and dis asters Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd; Tortive and errant from his course of growth. That we come short of our suppose so far, That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls stand; That gav't surmised shape. Why then, you princes, But the protractive trials of great Jove, To find persistive constancy in men? The fineness of which metal is not found In fortune's love: for then, the bold and coward, Nest. With due observance of thy godlike seat, Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance Lies the true proof of men: The sea being smooth, How many shallow bauble boats dare sail Upon her patient breast, making their way With those of nobler bulk? But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold |