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Leaps o'er the vaunt* and firstlings of those broils,
Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are;
*Avaunt, what went before.
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
SCENE I. Troy. Before Priam's palace.
Enter Troilus arm'd, and Pandarus.
CALL here my varlet*, I'll unarm again:
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
Tro. 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, fondert than ignorance;
Less valiant than the virgin in the night.
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy.
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He,
* A servant to a knight.
that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
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, Doth lesser blench* 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 thence?
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,
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
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 sis ter Cassandra's wit; but
Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, PandarusWhen I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;
Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
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 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 travail; 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
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 Alarum.
Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace,
Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague me!
Alarum. Enter Eneas.
Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield?
Tro. Because not there; This woman's answer
For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?
Ene. 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.
Ene. Hark! what good sport is out of town to-
Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were