TROILUS.
Call here my Varlet, I'll unarm again.
Why should I war without the Walls of Troy,
That find such cruel Battel here within?
Each Trojan that is Master of his Heart,
Let him to Field, Troilus alas hath none.

Pan.
Will this Geer ne'er be mended?

Troi.
The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant:
But I am weaker than a Woman's Tear,
Tamer than Sleep, fonder than Ignorance;
Less valiant than the Virgin in the Night,
And skilless as unpractis'd Infancy.

Pan.

Well, I have told you enough of this: For my part, I'll not meddle nor make any farther. He that will have a Cake out of the Wheat, must needs tarry the Grinding.

Troi.

Have I not tarried?

Pan.

Ay, the Grinding; but you must tarry the Boulting.

Troi.

Have I not tarried?

Pan.

Ay, the Boulting; but you must tarry the Leav'ning.

Troi.

Still have I tarried.

Pan.

Ay, to the Leav'ning: 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.

Troi.
Patience her self, what Goddess e'er she be,
Doth lesser blench at Sufferance, than I do:
At Priam's Royal Table I do sit;
And when fair Cressid comes into my Thoughts,—
So, Traitor!—When she comes, when she is thence

Pan.
Well,
She look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look,
Or any Woman else.

Troi.
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 Storm)
Buried 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.

And 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 it—but I would some Body had heard her talk yesterday, as I did: I will not dispraise your Sister Cassandra's Wit, but—

Troi.
O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus—
When I do tell thee, there my Hopes lye drown'd,
Reply not in how many Fathoms deep
They lye intrench'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 Gate, her 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 Cignets Down is harsh, and Spirit of Sense
Hard as the Palm of Ploughman. This thou tell'st me;
As true thou tell'st me; 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.

Troi.

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; and she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.

Troi.

Good Pandarus; how now, Pandarus?

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 small thanks for my labour.

Troi.

What art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?

Pan.

Because she is Kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen; and 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 and she were a Black-a-More, 'tis all one to me.

Troi.

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 i'th' matter.

Troi.

Pandarus—

Pan.

Not I.

Troi.

Sweet Pandarus—

Pan.

Pray you speak no more to me, I will leave all as I found it, and there's an end.

Troi.
Peace, you ungracious Clamours, peace rude Sounds.
Fools on both sides, Helen must needs be fair,
When with your Blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this Argument,
It is too starv'd a Subject for my Sword:
But Pandarus—O Gods! how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandarus,

And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woe,
As she is stubborn, chast, against all sute.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's Love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we:
Her Bed is India, there she lyes, a Pearl,
Between our Ilium, and where she resides
Let it be call'd the mild and wandring Flood,
Our self the Merchant, and this sailing Pandar
Our doubtful Hope, our Convoy, and our Bark. Alarum. Enter Æneas.

Æne.
How now, Prince Troilus?
Wherefore not i'th' Field?

Troi.
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.

Troi.
By whom, Æneas?

Æne.
Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi.
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?

Troi.
Better at home, if Would I might, were May—
But to the Sport abroad—are you bound thither?

Æne.
In all swift haste.

Troi.
Come, go we then together. [Exeunt. Enter Cressida and a Servant.

Cre.
Who were those went by?

Ser.
Queen Hecuba and Helen.

Cre.
And whither go they?

Ser.
Up to the Eastern Tower,
Whose height commands as subject all the Vale,
To see the Battel; Hector, whose Patience
Is as a Virtue fix'd, to day was mov'd:
He chid Andromache, and struck his Armorer,
And like as there were Husbandry in War
Before the Sun rose, he was harnest light,
And to the Field goes he; where ev'ry Flower
Did as a Prophet weep what it foresaw,
In Hector's Wrath.

Cre.
What was his cause of Anger?

Ser.
The noise goes this;
There is among the Greeks,
A Lord of Trojan Blood, Nephew to Hector,
They call him Ajax.

Cre.
Good; and what of him?

Ser.

They say he is a very Man per se, and stands alone.

Cre.

So do all Men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no Legs.

Ser.

This Man, Lady, hath robb'd many Beasts of their particular Additions, he is as valiant as the Lyon, churlish as the Bear, slow as the Elephant; a Man into whom Nature hath so crowded Humors, that his Valour is crusht 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 purblinded Argus, all Eyes and no Sight.

Cre.

But how should this Man (that makes me smile) make Hector angry?

Ser.

They say, he Yesterday cop'd Hector in the Battel and struck him down, the Disdain and Shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.

Cre.

Who comes here?

Ser.

Madam, your Unkle Pandarus.

Cre.

Hector's a gallant Man.

Ser.

As may be in the World, Lady.

Pan.

What's that? what's that?

Cre.

Good morrow, Uncle Pandarus.

Pan.

Good morrow, Cosin Cressid: what do you talk of? good morrow, Alexander; how do you, Cousin? when were you at Ilium?

Cre.

This Morning, Unkle.

Pan.

What were you talking of, when I came? Was Hector arm'd and gone, e're ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up? was she?

Cre.

Hector was gone, but Helen was not up.

Pan.

E'n so; Hector was stirring early.

Cre.

That were we talking of, and of his Anger.

Pan.

Was he angry?

Cre.

So he says here.

Pan.

True, he was so; I know the Cause too, he'll lay about him to Day I can tell them that; and there's Troilus will not come far behind him, let them take heed of Troilus; I can tell them that too.

Cre.

What is he angry too?

Pan.
Who, Troilus?
Troilus is the better Man of the two.

Cre.
Oh Jupiter; there's no comparison.

Pan.

What not between Troilus and Hector? do you know a Man if you see him?

Cre.

Ay, if I ever saw him before, and knew him.

Pan.
Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.

Cre.
Then you say, as I say,
For I am sure he is not Hector.

Pan.

No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees.

Cre.

'Tis just to each of them, he is himself.

Pan.

Himself? alas poor Troilus! I would he were.

Cre.

So he is.

Pan.

Condition I had gone bare-foot to India.

Cre.

He is not Hector.

Pan.

Himself no? he's not himself, would a were himself; well, the Gods are above, time must friend or end; well, Troilus, well, I would my Heart were in her Body —no, Hector is not a better Man than Troilus.

Cre.

Excuse me.

Pan.

He is Elder.

Cre.

Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan.
Th'other's not come to't, you shall tell me another
Tale when th'others come to't: Hector shall not have his
Wit this Year.

Cre.
He shall not need it, if he have his own.

Pan.

Nor his Qualities.

Cre.

No matter.

Pan.

Nor his Beauty.

Cre.

'Twould not become him, his own's better.

Pan.

You have no Judgment, Neice; Helen her self swore th'other Day, that Troilus for a brown Favor, (for so 'tis I must confess) not brown neither—

Cre.

No, but brown.

Pan.

Faith to say Truth, brown and not brown.

Cre.

To say the Truth, true and not true.

Pan.

She prais'd his Complexion above Paris.

Cre.

Why Paris hath Colour enough.

Pan.

So he has.

Cre.

Then Troilus should have too much; if she prais'd 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 lieve Helen's golden Tongue had commended Troilus for a copper Nose.

Pan.
I swear to you,
I think Helen loves him better than Paris.

Cre.

Then she's a merry Greek indeed.

Pan.

Nay, I am sure she doe. She came to him th'other Day into the compast Window, and you know he has not past three or four Hairs on his Chin.

Cre.

Indeed a Tapsters 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.

Cre.

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.

Cre.
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 Phrigia.

Cre.

Oh, he smiles valiantly.

Pan.

Does he not?

Cre.

Oh yes, and 'twere a Cloud in Autumn.

Pan.

Why go to then—but to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus.

Cre.
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.

Cre.

If you love an addle Egg, as well as you love an idle Head, you would eat Chickens i'th' shell.

Pan.

I cannot chose but Laugh to think how she tickled his Chin; indeed she has a Marvel's white Hand, I must needs confess.

Cre.

Without the Rack.

Pan.

And she takes upon her to spy a white Hair on his Chin.

Cre.

Alas, poor Chin! many a Wart is richer.

Pan.

But there was such laughing, Queen Hecuba laught that her Eye run o'er.

Cre.

With Milstones.

Pan.

And Cassandra laught.

Cre.

But there was more temperate Fire under the pot of her Eyes; Did her Eyes run o'er too?

Pan.

And Hector laught.

Cre.

At what was all this laughing?

Pan.

Marry at the white Hair, that Helen spied on Troilus's Chin.

Cre.

And 'had been a green Hair, I should have laught too.

Pan.

They laught not so much at the Hair as at his pretty Answer.

Cre.

What was his Answer?

Pan.

Quoth she, here's but two and fifty Hairs on your Chin, and one of them is white.

Cre.

This is her Question.

Pan.

That's true, make no question of that: Two 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 blush'd, and Paris so chaft, and all the rest so laught, that it past.

Cre.
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.

Cre.

So I do.

Pan.

I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you an 'twere a Man born in April.

Cre.

And I'll spring up in his Tears, as 'twere a Nettle against May.

Pan.

Hark, they are coming from the Field, shall we stand up here and see them, as they pass towards Ilium? good Neice do, sweet Neice Cressida.

Cre.

At your Pleasure.

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.

Cre.

Speak not so loud.

Pan.

That's Æneas; 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.

Cre.

Who's that?

Pan.

That's Antenor, he has a shrewd Wit, I can tell you, and he's a Man good enough, he's one o'th' soundest Judgment in Troy whosoever, and a proper Man of Person; when comes Troilus? I'll shew you Troilus anon; if he see me, you shall see him nod at me.

Cre.

Will he give you the nod?

Pan.

You shall see.

Cre.

If he do, the Rich shall have more.

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?

Cre.

O brave Man!

Pan.

Is a not? It does a Man's Heart good, look you what hacks are on his Helmet, look you yonder, do you see? Look you there? There's no jesting; laying on, tak't off who will, as they say; there be hacks.

Cre.

Be those with Swords?

Swords, any thing, he cares not, and the Devil come to him, it's all one; by Godslid it does ones Heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris: Look ye yonder, Neice, 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.

Cre.

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.

Cre.

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.

Cre.

What sneaking Fellow comes yonder?

Pan.

Where! Yonder? That's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus! There's a Man, Neice—hem—brave Troilus; the Prince of Chivalry.

Cre.

Peace, for shame, peace.

Pan.

Mark him, note him: O brave Troilus: Look well upon him, Neice, 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 Mony to boot.

Cre.

Here come more.

Pan.

Asses, Fools, Dolts, Chaff and Bran, Chaff and Bran; Porridge after Meat. I could live and dye i'th' 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.

Cre.

There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better Man than Troilus.

Pan.

Achilles? a Dray-man, a Porter, a very Camel.

Cre.

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 so forth, the Spice and Salt that seasons a Man?

Cre.

Ay, a minc'd Man, and then to be bak'd with no date in the Pye, for then the Man's date is out.

Pan.

You are such another Woman, one knows not at what ward you lye.

Cre.

Upon my Back, to defend my Belly; upon my Wit, to defend my Wiles; upon my Secresie, to defend mine Honesty; my Mask to defend my Beauty, and you to defend all these; and at all these Wards I lye at a thousand Watches.

Pan.

Say one of your Watches.

Cre.

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 is past watching.

Pan.

You are such another.

Boy.

Sir, my Lord would instantly speak with you.

Pan.

Where?

Boy.

At your own House.

Pan.
Good Boy, tell him I come, I doubt he be hurt.
Fare ye well, good Niece.

Cre.
Adieu, Uncle—

Pan.
I'll be with you, Niece, by and by.

Cre.
To bring, Uncle.

Pan.
Ay, a Token from Troilus.

Cre.
By the same token, you are a Bawd. [Exit Pan.
Words, Vows, Gifts, Tears, and Loves full Sacrifice,
He offers in another's Enterprize:
But more in Troilus thousand fold I see,
Than in the Glass of Pandar's praise may be.
Yet hold I off. Women are Angels wooing,
Things won are done, the Soul's joy lyes in doing:
That she belov'd, knows nought that knows not this;
Men prize the thing ungain'd, more than it is.
That she, was never yet, that ever knew
Love go so sweet, as when desire did sue:
Atchievement is command; ungain'd, beseech.
Therefore this Maxim out of Love I teach;
That though my Hearts Content's firm love doth bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine Eyes appear. [Exit.

Next section