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, When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd, They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love: thou answer'st "She is fair;" Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'st me, Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me Pan. I speak no more than truth. Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. 50 60 Pan. Faith, I'll not meddle in 't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 't is 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 travail; ill-thought on of her and ill-thought on of you; gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour. 70 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; 't is all one to me. Tro. Say I she is not fair? Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; She's a fool to 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. Tro. Pandarus, — Pan. Not I. 80 30 An her hair were not somewhat darker, etc. Helen was a golden-haired blonde. "In the old age dark was not counted fair." Sonnet CXXVII. The beauty of dark eyes and hair in women is a modern discovery. Tro. Sweet Pandarus, 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, When with your blood you daily paint her thus. It is too starv'd a subject for my sword. O gods, how do you plague me! Alarum. Enter ENEAS. Ene. How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore not afield? For womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Æneas, from the field to-day? Ene. That Paris is returned home and hurt. Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus. Tro. Let Paris bleed: 't is but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. Ene. Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day! 100 [Alarum. Tro. Better at home, if "would I might" were "may." 110 But to the sport abroad: are you bound thither? Ene. In all swift haste. Tro. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A street. Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER. Cres. Who were those went by? Cres. And whither go they? Queen Hecuba and Helen. Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, And, like as there were husbandry in war, In Hector's wrath. Cres. What was his cause of anger? Alex. The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him Ajax. Cres. 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. 18 Alex. This man, lady, hath robb'd 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 crush'd 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. Cres. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry? 30 Alex. They say he yesterday cop'd 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. Enter PANDARUS. Cres. Hector's a gallant man. Alex. As may be in the world, lady. Pan. What's that? what's that? Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. 39 Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of? Good morrow, Alexander. you at Ilium? Cres. This morning, uncle. Pan. What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector arm'd and gone ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? Cres. Hector was gone, but Helen was not up. 15 per se by himself. (Lat.) 42 Ilium was the citadel of Troy; but Lydgate, having mistakenly made it Priam's palace, S. followed him. Pan. Even so: Hector was stirring early. Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger. Cres. So he says here. 50 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. 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? Cres. Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him. 60 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. Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were. Pan. Condition, I had gone barefoot to India. Cres. He is not Hector. 70 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. Cres. Excuse me. Pan. He is elder. Cres. Pardon me, pardon me. Pan. Th' other's not come to 't; you shall tell me another tale, when th' other's come to 't. this year. Hector shall not have his wit Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own. Pan. Nor his qualities. So Cres. No matter. Pan. Nor his beauty. Cres. "T would not become him; his own 's better. Pan. You have no judgement, niece: Helen herself swore th' other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour for so 't is, I must confess, not brown neither, Cres. No, but brown. Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris. 09 condition on that condition; that is, if Troilus were himself. 90 Cres. Why, Paris hath colour enough. Pan. So he has. Cres. 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 lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose. 99 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. day into the compass'd window, past three or four hairs on his chin, She came to him th' other and, you know, he has not 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. 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, 't is 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 't were a cloud in autumn. Pan. Why, go to, then: but to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus, 120 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. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell. Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin: indeed, she has a marvell's white hand, I must needs confess, Cres. Without the rack. Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin. Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. 131 Pan. But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laugh'd that her eyes ran o'er. Cres. With mill-stones. 102 merry Greek: a sort of pun; "merry Greek" was slang for a jesting, jovial companion. 119 a lifter: as we say, a shop-lifter. |