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CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking part with the
PANDARUS, Uncle to Cressida.
MARGARELON, a Bastard Son of Priam.
AGAMEMNON, the Grecian General.
MENELAUS, his Brother.
THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.
Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Servant to
HELEN, Wife to Menelaus.
ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector.
CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam; a Prophetess.
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.
SCENE, Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it.
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
THE PROLOGUE' (in Armour3).
IN Troy, there lies the scene.
With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits
Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are;
1 First printed in the folio. 2 The words in parenthesis are not in f. e. 3 Stir in folio. Theobald made the change to sperr, or bar. • Van.
SCENE I-Troy. Before PRIAM's Palace.
Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS.
Tro. Call here my varlet'; I'll unarm again :
Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant ;
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must2 tarry the grinding.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Tro. Still have I tarried.
Pan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet, in the word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating the oven, and the baking: nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance. burn your lips.
Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I sit;
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,-
Tro. I was about to tell thee,-when my heart,
1 Hireling, servant. 2 must needs in folio.
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
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,—
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
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.
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.
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-amoor; 't is all one to me.
Tro. Say I, she is not fair?
Pan. I do not care whether you do or no.
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' the matter.
Pan. Not I.
Tro. Sweet Pandarus,
Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I found it, and there an end. [Exit PAN.
An Alarum. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude
Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus!-O gods, how do you plague me!
Ene. How now, prince Troilus! wherefore not afield ?
Tro. Because not there: this woman's answer sorts,1 For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?
Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Troilus, by Menelaus. Tro. Let Paris bleed: 't is but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.
[Alarum. Ene. Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day! Tro. Better at home, if "would I might," were
But to the sport abroad are you bound thither ?
Come; go we, then, together. [Exeunt.
1 Is fitting.