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Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
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; 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 small thanks for my labour. 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.
and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman!] In comparison with Cressida's hand, says he, the spirit of sense, the utmost degree, the most exquisite power of sensibility, which implies a soft hand, since the sense of touching, as Scaliger says in his Exercitations, resides chiefly in the fingers, is hard as the callous and insensible palm of the ploughman.
she has the mends-) She may make the best of a bad bargain. This is a proverbial saying. VOL. VII.
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.
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,
Alarum. Enter Æneas. Æne. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not
afield? Tro. Because not there; This woman's answer
sorts,] i. e. fits, suits, is congruous.
For womanish it is to be from thence.
Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Troilus, by Menelaus. Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum.
Æne. 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?
Æne. In all swift haste.
The same. A Street.
Enter Cressida and ALEXANDER.
Queen Hecuba, and Helen.
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 fower Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw In Hector's wrath.
- husbandry in war,] Husbandry means economical prudence. Troilus alludes to Hector's early rising.
What was his cause of anger? Alex. The noise goes, this: There is among the
Good; And what of him?
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 crouded humours, that his valour is crushed 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
- their particular additions;] Their peculiar and characteristick qualities or denominations.
that his valour is crushed into folly,] To be crushed into folly, is to be confused and mingled with folly, so as that they make one mass together.
- against the hair:] Is a phrase equivalent to another now in use-against the grain. The French say-d contrepoil.
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.
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.