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CALCHAS, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks.
PANDARUS, uncle to Cressida.
MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam.
THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.
ALEXANDER, servant to Cressida.
Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Servant to Tiomedes.
HELEN, wife to Menelaus.
ANDROMACHE, wife to Hector.
CASSANDRA, daughter to Priam; a prophetess.
CRESSIDA, daughter to Calchas.
Trojan and Greek Soldiers and Attendants.
SCENE, Troy, and the Grecian camp before it.
in Troy, there lies the scene.
From isles of Greece
The princes orgulous,1 their high blood chafed,
With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
Of author's pen or actor's voice; but suited
To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt1 and firstlings of those broils,
Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are;
1 i. e. the avant, what went before.
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
Troy. Before Priam's palace.
Enter TROILUS armed, and Pandarus.
Troi. Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again : Why should I war without the walls of Troy, That find such cruel battle here within? Each Trojan, that is master of his heart, Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none. Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended?
Troi. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder 3 than ignorance;
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for
3 More foolish.
my part, I'll not meddle nor make no farther. He, that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding.
Troi. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Troi. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Troi. 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.
Troi. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blench1 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
Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
Troi. 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) Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile :