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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;
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, '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 la 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?
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 all as I found it, and there an end.
[Exit Pandarus. An Alarm. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds!
Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Alarum. Enter ÆNEAS.
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?
Troilus, by Menelaus. Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.
[Alarum. Ene. Hark! what good sport is out of town to
Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were may.— But, to the sport abroad;-Are you bound thither? Ene. In all swift haste.
Come, go we then together.
The Same. A Street.
Queen Hecuba, and Helen.
Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER. Cres. Who were those went by? Alex. Cres. And whither go they? Alex. Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, To see 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 sun rose, he was harness'd light, And to the field goes he; where every flower Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw In Hector's wrath.
What was his eause of anger? Alex. The noise goes, this: There is among the Greeks
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;
They call him, Ajax.
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 robb'd 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 crush'd 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.
Cres. Who comes here?
Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Alex. As may be in the world, lady.
Pan. What's that? what's that?
Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid: What do you talk of?-Good morrow, Alexander'.-How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium®?
Cres. This morning, uncle.
Pan. What were you talking of, when I came?