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of Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan,
The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf'd,
With wanton Paris sleeps; And that's the quarrel.
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain ;
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, ·
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;
As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;
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 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; illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my
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-moor; 'tis 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
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,
O gods, how 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.
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; 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 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 crouded humos, that his valour is crushed into folly, his foily 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.
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.
Cres. Who comes here?
Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
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
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?
Pan. Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
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 the compassed window, — and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin.
Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetick 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, 'tis dimpled: I think, his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.
Cres. O, he smiles valiantly.
Pan. Does he not?
Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.
Cres. Ay; if I ever saw him before, and knew that Helen loves Troilus,
Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.
Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector.
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. With mill-stones.
Pan. And Cassandra laughed.
Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under Did her eyes run o'er too?
the pot of her eyes;
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 Juhair is my father, and all the rest are his sons. piter! 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;
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>
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.
PARIS passes over.
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 home hurt 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?
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 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, libe