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Troi. Better at home, if would I might, were may.— But, to the sport abroad ;-Are you bound thither? Ene. In all swift hafte.

Trai. Come, go we then together.

SCENE II. A Street.

[Exeunt.

Enter CRESSIDA, and ALEXANDER her Servant.

Cre. Who were thofe went by?
Serv. Queen Hecuba, and Helen.
Cre. And whither go they?

Serv. Up to the eastern tower,

Whose height commands as fubject all the vale,
To fee the battle. Hector, whose patience
Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd:
He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the fun rofe, he was harness'd light,
And to the field goes he; where every flower
Did, as a prophet, weep what it forefaw
In Hector's wrath.

Cre. What was his cause of anger?

Serv. The noife 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?

Serv. They fay he is a very man per fe, And ftands alone.

Cre. So do all men; unless they are drunk, fick, or have no legs.

Serv. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beafts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, flow as the elephant,

a man

a man into whom nature hath fo crouded humours, that his valour is crufhed into folly, his folly fauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue, that he hath not a glimpfe of; nor any man an attaint, but he carries fome ftain of it: he is melancholy without caufe, and merry against the hair: He hath the joints of every thing; but every thing fo out of joint, that he is a gouty Briarius, many hands and no ufe; or pur-blinded Argus, all eyes and no fight.

Cre. But how fhould this man, that makes me fmile, make Hector angry?

Serv. They fay, he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battle, and ftruck him down; the diftain and fhame whereof hath ever fince kept Hector fafting and waking.

Enter PANDARUS.

Cre. Who comes here?

Serv. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Cre. Hector's a gallant man.

Serv. As may be in the world, lady.
Pan. What's that? what's that?

Cre. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Pan. Good morrow, coufin Creffid: What do you talk of?-Good morrow, Alexander.-How do you, coufin? When were you at Ilium? Cre. This morning, uncle.

Pan. What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector arm'd, and gone, ere ye çame to Ilium? Helen was not up, was the?

Cre. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.
Pan. E'en fo; Hector was stirring early.
Cre. That were we talking of, and of his anger,

Pan

Pan. Was he angry?

Cre. So he fays here.

Pan. True, he was fo; I know the caufe 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. O, 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 faw him before, and knew him. Pan. Well, I fay, Troilus is Troilus.

Cre. Then you fay as I fay; for, I am fure, he is not Hector.

Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in fome degrees.

Cre. 'Tis juft to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he

were,

Cre.. So he is.

Pan.-'Condition, Ihad gone bare-foot to India. Cre. He is not Hector.

Pan. Himfelf? 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. Excufe me.

Pan. He is elder.

Cre. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan. The other's not come to't; you shall tell

me

me another tale, when the other's come to't. Hec tor fhall not have his wit this year.

Cre. He fhall 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, niece: Helen herfelf fwore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour (for fo 'tis, I must confefs),-Not brown neither.

Cre. No, but brown.

Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown,
Cre. To fay 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 fhould have too much: if fhe 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 nofe.

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

Cre. Then fhe's a merry Greek, indeed.

Pan. Nay, I am fure fhe does. She came to him the other day into the compafs'd window,and, you know he has not past three or four hairs on his chin.

Cre. Indeed, a tapfter's arithmetic may foon 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 fo young a man, and fo old a lifter? Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him;-fhe 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 fmiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.

Cre. Ŏ, he fmiles valiantly.

Pan. Does he not!.

Cre. O, yes; an 'twere a cloud in autumn.
Pan. Why, go to then :-

that Helen loves Troilus,

-But, to prove to you

Cre. Troilus will ftand to the proof, if you'll prove it fo.

Pan. Troilus? why, he efteems 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'the fhell.

Pan. I cannot chufe but laugh, to think how fhe tickled his chin ;-Indeed, fhe has a marvellous white hand, I muft needs confefs.

Cre. Without the rack.

Pan. And fhe takes upon her to fpy a white hair on his chin.

Cre. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. Pan. But, there was fuch laughing;-Queen Hecuba laugh'd, that her eyes ran o'er.

the

Cre. With mill-ftones.

Pan. And Caffandra laugh'd.

Cre. But there was more temperate fire under pot of her eyes;-Did her eyes run o'er too? B

Pan.

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