So, traitor!-when she comes!-When is she thence? Tro. I was about to tell thee,-When my heart, 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; 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. Tre. 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. Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with 1 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 matter. Tro. Pandarus,~ Pan. Not I. Tro. Sweet Pandarus, Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave ail as I found it, and ther ... end. [Exit Pandarus. [An Alarum. peace, rude Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, 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. What news, Æneas, from the field to-day? Tro. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A Street. Enter Cressida and Alexander. Cres. Who were those went by? Alex. Queen Hecuba, and Helen. Cres. And whither go they? Alex. Up to the eastern tower, Cres. A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; 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. 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. 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. Enter Pandarus. Cres. Who comes here? Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there is 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 o'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 ever I saw him before, and knew him. 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. Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he were, Cres. "Twould not become him; his own's better. Pan. You have no judgement, niece: Helen herself swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour, (for so 'tis, I must confess,)-Not brown neither. Cres. No, but brown. 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 a compassed window,—and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin. 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, 'tis dimpled: I think, his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia. Cres. O, be smiles valiantly. Crea. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. Pan. Why, go to then :-But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus, 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'the shell. Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin;-Indeed, she has a marvellous 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. Pan. But, there was such laughing;-Queen Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er. Cres. With mill-stones. Pan. And Cassandra laughed. Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes ;-Did her eyes run o'er too? 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 hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons. Jupiter! quoth she, which of these hairs is Paris my hus band? 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; think on't. 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 good-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. 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, erows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than Agamemnon and all Greece. Cres. There is among the Greeks, Achilles; a bet. ter man than Troilus. Pan. Achilles? a drayman, a porter, a very camel. 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 pie,-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 you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it is past watching. Pan. You are such another! Enter Troilus's Boy. Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. Boy. At your own house; there he unarms him. Pan, I'll be with you, niece, by and by. Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus. 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: Troilus passes over. Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus: 'Tis TroiJus! 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, bow his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than Hector's; And how he looks, and how he goes!-0 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, 1 warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot. That she was never yet, that ever knew Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls stand; That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes, In fortune's love: for then, the bold and coward, Nest. With due observance of thy godlike seat, But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage The strong ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut, Like Perseus' horse: Where's then the saucy boat, In storms of fortune: For, in her ray and brightness, When rank Thersites opes his mastiff jaws, 741 Ulyss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, The specialty of rule hath been neglected : And posts, like the commandment of a king, What plagues, and what portents? what mutiny? Quite from their fixure? O, when degree is shak'd, The enterprize is sick! How could communities, And, flies fled under shade, Why, then, the thing of Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong, courage, Agamemnon, Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, The which,-most mighty for thy place and sway,- I give to both your speeches,-which were such, That matter needless, of importless burden, (Between whose endless jar justice resides,) And appetite, an universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Follows the choking. And this neglection of degree it is, That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, Nest. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd Aga. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, Ulyss. The great Achilles,-whom opinion crowns The sinew and the forehand of our host,- Lies mocking our designs: With him, Patroclus, And with ridiculous and awkward action He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, That's done ;-as near as the extremest ends And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age (A slave, whose gall coins slanders like a mint,) Ulyss. They tax our policy, and call it cowardice; Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse Makes many Thetis' sons. [Trumpet sounds. Ene. Ay; I ask, that I might waken reverence, Which is that god in office, guiding men? Aga. This Trojan scorns us; or the men of Troy Are ceremonious courtiers. Ene. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarın'd, Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Æneas, Aga. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Æneas? Troy. ne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him? I bring a trumpet to awake his ear; To set his sense on the attentive bent, Aga. Speak frankly as the wind; It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour: Ene. [Trumpet sounds We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy A prince call'd Hector, (Priam is his father,) Who in this dull and long-continued truce Is rusty grown; he bade me take a trumpet, And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords! If there be one, among the fair'st of Greece, That holds his honour higher than his ease; That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril; That knows his valour, and knows not his fear; That loves his mistress more than in confession, (With truant vows to her own lips he loves,) And dare avow her beauty and her worth, In other arms than hers,-to him this challenge. Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks, |