CALCHAS, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Servant Greeks. PANDARUS, uncle to Cressida. MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam. AGAMEMNON, the Grecian general: MENELAUS, his brother. Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants. SCENE,-Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it. PROLOGUE. In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf'd, To ransack Troy; within those strong immures And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are; ACT I. SCENE I.-Troy. Before PRIAM's palace. Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to 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 further. He, that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding. Tro. Have I not tarried? When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd, The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her; 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; Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands. the bolting. Tro. Have I not tarried? Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus? Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry ill-thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: the leavening. gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour. 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 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, And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. Tro. I was about to tell thee,-When my heart, 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,— 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-a-moor; '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,— 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 Alarum. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds! Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, Alarum. Enter ENEAS. 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. Ene. 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-day! Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were may. But, to the sport abroad ;-Are you bound thither? Ene. In all swift haste. Tro. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A street. Whose height commands as subject all the vale, He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer; Cres. What was his cause of anger? Aler. The noise goes, this: There is among the Greeks A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him Ajax. Cres. 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 robbed 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 car ries 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. Enter PANDARUS. Cres. Who comes here? Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. 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? Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? Cres. Hector was gone but Helen was not up. Cres. So he says here. Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there is Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus; I can tell them that too. Cres. What, is he angry too? Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two. Cres. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison. Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man, if you see him? Cres. Ay; if ever I saw him before, and knew him. Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus. Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector. Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees. Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he were, Cres. So he is. Cres. To say the truth, true and not true. Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much : if she praised 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 lief, Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose. Pan. I swear to you, I think, Helen loves him better than Paris. Cres. Than she's a merry Greek, indeed. Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him the other day into a compass'd window,and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin. Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon 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. Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter? Pan. But, to prove to you, that Helen loves him; she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin, Cres. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven? Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think, his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia. Cres. O, he smiles valiantly. Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. Pan. Why, go to then :-But to prove to you, that Helen loves Troilus, Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so. Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg. Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i'the shell. Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin;-Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess. Cres. Without the rack. Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin. Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. Pan. But there was such laughing ;-Queen Hecuba laugh'd, that her eyes ran o'er. Cres. With mill-stones. Pan. And Cassandra laugh'd. Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes;-Did her eyes run o'er too? Pan. And Hector laugh'd. Cres. At what was all this laughing? Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin. Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have laugh'd too. Pan. They laugh'd not so much at the hair, as at his pretty answer. Cres. What was his answer? Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white. Cres. This is her question. Pan. That's true; make no question of that. One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white: That white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons. Jupiter! quoth she, which of these hairs is Paris my husband? The forked one, quoth he; pluck it out, and give it him. But, there was such laughing! and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the rest so laugh'd, that it pass'd. Cres. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by. Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on't. Cres. So I do. Pan. I'll be sworn, 'tis true; he will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April. Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May. [A retreat sounded. Pan. Hark, they are coming from the field: Shall we stand up here, and see them, as they pass towards Ilium? good niece, do; sweet niece Cressida. Cres. At your pleasure. Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may see most bravely: I'll tell you them all by their names, as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest. ENEAS passes over the stage. Cres. Speak not so loud. Pan. That's Æneas; Is not that a brave man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you; But mark Troilus; you shall see anon. Cres. Who's that? ANTENOR passes over. Pan. That's Antenor; he has a shrewd wit, Pan. Swords? any thing, he cares not: an the devil come to him, it's all one: By god's lid, it does one's heart good:-Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris: look ye yonder, niece; Is't not a gallant man too, is't not?-Why, this is brave now.-Who said, he came hurt home today? he's not hurt: why, this will do Helen's heart good now. Ha! 'would I could see Troilus now!-you shall see Troilus anon. Cres. Who's that? Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus: Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die i'the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look ; the eagles are gone; crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than Agamemnon and all Greece. Cres. There is among the Greeks, Achilles; a better man than Troilus. Pan. Achilles? a drayman, a porter, a very camel. Cres. Well, well. Pan. Well, well?-Why, have you any discretion? have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man? Cres. Ay, a minced man; and then to be baked with no date in the pye,-for then the man's date is out. Pan. You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you lie. Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles; and upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these: and at all these wards I lie, at a thousand watches. Pan. Say one of your watches. Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the chiefest of them too: if I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it is past watching. Pan. You are such another! I doubt, he be hurt.-Fare ye well, good niece. Pan. I'll be with you, niece, by and by. Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus. Cres. By the same token-you are a bawd.[Exit Pandarus. Pan. Mark him; note him ;-O brave Troi- Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full sacrifice, lus!-look well upon him, niece; look you, how He offers in another's enterprize: his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd But more in Troilus thousand fold I see than Hector's; And how he looks, and how he Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be ; goes!-O admirable youth! he ne'er saw three-Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: and-twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way; had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man ! Paris ?—Paris is dirt to him; and, I war- | rant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot. Forces pass over the stage. Cres. Here come more, VOL. II. Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing: Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is : Ο |