Helen, Wife to Menelaus, in Love with Paris. Caffandra, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess. Creffida, Daughter to Calchas, in Love with Troilus. Alexander, Creffida's Man. Boy, Page to Troilus. Trojan and Greek Soldiers, with other Attendants. SCENE, Troy; and the Grecian Camp, before it. TROILUS and CRESSIDA. с ACT I. SCENE, the Palace in Troy. Enter Pandarus and Troilus. TROILUS. ALL here my varlet; I'll unarm again. Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended? ftrength, and skilful to their Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant. But I am weaker than a woman's tear, Tamer than fleep, fonder than ignorance; Lefs valiant than the virgin in the night, And skill-lefs 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. 0 4 Troi. 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 herfelf, what Goddess e'er the be, Doth leffer blench at fufferance, than I do. At Priam's royal table do I fit, And when fair Creffida comes into my thoughts, So, traitor!-when she comes? when is fhe thence? Pan. Well, the look'd yesternight fairer than ever I faw her look, or any woman elfe. Troi. I was about to tell thee, when my heart, But forrow, that is couch'd in feeming gladnefs, Pan. An her hair were not fomewhat darker than Helen's-well, go to, there were no more comparison between the women. But, for my part, fhe is my kinswoman; I would not (as they term it) praise her but I would, fomebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did: I will not difpraise your fifter Caffandra's wit, but, Troi. 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 Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gate, her voice; -O that! her hand! (In whose comparison, all whites are ink Writing their own reproach) to whose soft seizure Hard as the palm of ploughman. This thou tell'ft me ; (As, (As, true thou tell'ft me ;) when I fay, I love her: Thou lay'ft, in every gash that love hath given me, Pan. I fpeak no more than truth. Troi. Thou doít not speak fo much. Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is, if fhe be fair, 'tis the better for her; an fhe be not, the 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 fmall thanks for my labour. Troi. What art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me? Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore fhe's not so fair as Helen; and fhe 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. Troi. Say I, fhe is not fair? Pan. I do not care whether you do or no, she's a fool to ftay behind her father: let her to the Greeks, and so I'll tell her the next time I fee 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, fpeak no more to me; I will leave all. as I found it, and there's an end. [Exit Pandarus. [Sound Alarm. Troi.Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude founds! Fools on both fides.Helen muft needs be fair, When with your blood you daily paint her thus. It is too ftarv'd a fubject for my fword: But Pandarus- -Ö Gods! how do you plague me! Her bed is India, there fhe lies, a pearl: Enter Æneas. Ene. How now, Prince Troilus? wherefore not i'th' field? Troi. Because not there; this woman's anfwer forts, For womanish it is to be from thence: What news, Eneas, from the field to day? Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. Troi. By whom, Æneas? Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus. Troi. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a fcar to fcorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarm. Ene. Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day ? Troi. Better at home, if would I might, were may—— But to the fport abroad Ene. In all swift hafte. are you bound thither ? Troi. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to a publick Street, near the Walls of Troy. Cre. Enter Creffida, and Alexander, her Servant. HO were thofe went by? WH Serv. Queen Hecuba and Helen. Cre. And whither go they? Serv. Up to th' eastern tower, Whofe height commands as fubject all the vale, And (2) Before the Sun rofe, he was harneft light,] Why harnest Ight? Does the Poet mean, that Hector had put on light Armour? Or that he was sprightly in his Arms, even before Sun-rife? Or is a Conun |