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 alarum. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamors ! peace,

rude sounds! Fools on both sides !-Helen must needs be fair, When with

your
blood

you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument;
It is too starved a subject for my sword.
But, Pandarus–O gods, how do you plague me !
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar i
And he's as tetchy to be wooed to woo,
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Her bed is India ; there she lies, a pearl ;
Between our Ilium,” and where she resides,
Let it be called the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself, the merchant; and their sailing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

W

1 Calchas, according to the Old Troy Book, was “a great, learned bishop of Troy," who was sent by Priam to consult the oracle of Delphi concerning the event of the war which threatened Agamemnon. As soon as he had made “his oblations and demands for them of Troy, Apollo aunswered unto him saying, Calchas, Calchas, beware thou returne not back againe to Troy, but goe thou with Achylles unto the Greekes, and depart never from them, for the Greekes shall have victorie of the Trojans, by the agreement of the gods.”—Hist. of the Destruction of Troy, translated by Carton, ed. 1617. The prudent bishop immediately joined the Greeks.

2 Nium, properly speaking, is the name of the city ; Troy, that of the country. But Shakspeare, following the Troy Book, gives that name to Priam's palace, said to have been built upon a high rock VOL. v.

32

Alarum. Enter ÆNEAS.

1

Æne. 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?

Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Tro. By whom, Æneas ?
Æne.

Troilus, by Menelaus.
Tro. Let Paris bleed : 'tis but a scar to scorn ;
Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn. [ Alarum.

Æne. 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 ?

Æne. In all swift haste.
Tro.

Come, go we then together.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same.

A Street.

Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER.
Cres. Who were those went by ?
Alex.

Queen Hecuba and Helen.
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, fixed, to-day was moved:
He chid Andromache, and struck his armorer ;
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the sun rose, he was harnessed light,
And to the field

goes he ; where every flower

1

Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw
In Hector's wrath.

Cres. What was his cause of anger ?
Alex. 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 humors that his valor 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 ;3 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.

3

Cres. Who comes here?
Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.

Cres. Hector's a gallant man.
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 llium ?

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. E'en so; Hector was stirring early.
Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger.
Pan. Was he

angry

? 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.
Pan. -Condition, I had gone barefoot to India.
Cres. He is not Hector.

Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself—'Would 'a were himself! Well, the gods are above; Time must friend or end. Well, Troilus, well,—I would my heart were in her body!—No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.

Cres. Excuse me.
Pan. He is elder.
Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan. The other's not come to’t; you shall tell me another tale when the other's come to't. Hector shall not have his wit this year.

Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own.
Pan. Nor his qualities ;-
Cres. No matter.
Pan. Nor his beauty.
Cres. 'Twould not become him; his own's better.

Pan. You have no judgment, niece. Helen herself swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown favor, (for so 'tis, I must confess,)—Not brown neither.

Cres. No, but brown.
Pan. "Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
Cres. To say the truth, true and not true.
Pan. She praised his complexion above Paris.
Cres. Why, Paris hath color enough.
Pan. So he has.

Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much. If she praised him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having color 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. Then she's a merry Greek,' indeed.

Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him the other day into the compassed? 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.