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} Trojan Commanders.
PRIAM, King of Troy:
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
ACT 1. SCENE I.
Troy. Before Priam's Palace.
Enter Troilus arm'd, and PANDARUS.
Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended?
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He, that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding
Tro. Have I not tarry'd?
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Tro. Have I not tarry'd ?
Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Tro. Still have I tarry'd.
Pan. Ay, to the leavening: 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.
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, So, traitor !--- when she comes! When is she
thence? Pan. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look; or any woman else.
Tro. I was about to tell thee,– When my heart, As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain; Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, I have (as when the sun doth light a storm,) Bury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness, Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
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,
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.
Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus?
Pan. I have had my labour for my travel; illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between, but sinall thanks for my bour.
Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with
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-amoor; 'tis all one to me.
Tro. Say I, she is not fair?
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.
Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave all I found it, and there an end.
[Erit Pandarus. An Alarm. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours ! peace, rude
blood you daily paint her thus.