SCENE II.--_Troy.

_Enter_ PANDARUS _and_ TROILUS.

_Troil._ Why should I fight without the Trojan walls, Who, without fighting, am o'erthrown within? The Trojan who is master of a soul, Let him to battle; Troilus has none.

_Pand._ Will this never be at an end with you?

_Troil._ The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness wary; But I am weaker than a woman's tears, Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, And artless as unpractised infancy.

_Pand_ Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part I'll not meddle nor make any further in your love; he, that will eat of the roastmeat, must stay for the kindling of the fire.

_Troil._ Have I not staid?

_Pand._ Ay, the kindling; but you must stay the spitting of the meat.

_Troil._ Have I not staid?

_Pand._ Ay, the spitting; but there's two words to a bargain; you must stay the roasting too.

_Troil._ Still have I staid; and still the farther off.

_Pand._ That's but the roasting, but there's more in this word stay; there's the taking off the spit, the making of the sauce, the dishing, the setting on the table, and saying grace; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your chaps.

_Troil._ At Priam's table pensive do I sit, And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts-- (Can she be said to come, who ne'er was absent!)

_Pand._ Well, she's a most ravishing creature; and she looked yesterday most killingly; she had such a stroke with her eyes, she cut to the quick with every glance of them.

_Troil._ I was about to tell thee, when my heart Was ready with a sigh to cleave in two, Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, I have, with mighty anguish of my soul, Just at the birth, stifled this still-born sigh, And forced my face into a painful smile.

_Pand._ I measured her with my girdle yesterday; she's not half a yard about the waist, but so taper a shape did I never see; but when I had her in my arms, Lord, thought I,--and by my troth I could not forbear sighing,--If prince Troilus had her at this advantage and I were holding of the door!--An she were a thought taller,--but as she is, she wants not an inch of Helen neither; but there's no more comparison between the women--there was wit, there was a sweet tongue! How her words melted in her mouth! Mercury would have been glad to have such a tongue in his mouth, I warrant him. I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did.

_Troil._ Oh Pandarus, when I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love, thou answer'st she is fair; Praisest her eyes, her stature, and her wit; But praising thus, instead of oil and balm, Thou lay'st, in every wound her love has given me, The sword that made it.

_Pand._ I give her but her due.

_Troil._ Thou giv'st her not so much.

_Pand._ Faith, I'll speak no more of her, let her be as she is; if she be a beauty, 'tis the better for her; an' she be not, she has the mends in her own hands, for Pandarus.

_Troil._ In spite of me, thou wilt mistake my meaning.

_Pand._ I have had but my labour for my pains; ill thought on of her, and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, and am ground in the mill-stones for my labour.

_Troil._ What, art thou angry, Pandarus, with thy friend?

_Pand._ Because she's my niece, therefore she's not so fair as Helen; an' she were not my niece, show me such another piece of woman's flesh: take her limb by limb: I say no more, but if Paris had seen her first, Menelaus had been no cuckold: but what care I if she were a blackamoor? what am I the better for her face?

_Troil._ Said I she was not beautiful?

_Pand._ I care not if you did; she's a fool to stay behind her father Calchas: let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her. For my part, I am resolute, I'll meddle no more in your affairs.

_Troil._ But hear me!

_Pand._ Not I.

_Troil._ Dear Pandarus--

_Pand._ Pray speak no more on't; I'll not burn my fingers in another body's business; I'll leave it as I found it, and there's an end. [_Exit._

_Troil._ O gods, how do you torture me! I cannot come to Cressida but by him, And he's as peevish to be wooed to woo, As she is to be won.

_Enter_ ÆNEAS.

_Æneas._ How now, prince Troilus; why not in the battle?

_Troil._ Because not there. This woman's answer suits me, For womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?

_Æn._ Paris is hurt.

_Troil._ By whom?

_Æn._ By Menelaus. Hark what good sport [_Alarm within._ Is out of town to-day! When I hear such music, I cannot hold from dancing.

_Troil._ I'll make one, And try to lose an anxious thought or two In heat of action. Thus, coward-like, from love to war I run, Seek the less dangers, and the greater shun. [_Exit_ TROIL.

_Enter_ CRESSIDA.

_Cres._ My lord Æneas, who were those went by? I mean the ladies.

_Æn._ Queen Hecuba and Helen.

_Cres._ And whither go they?

_Æn._ Up to the western tower, Whose height commands, as subject, all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience Is fixed like that of heaven, to-day was moved; He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer, And, as there were good husbandry in war. Before the sun was up he went to field; Your pardon, lady, that's my business too. [_Exit_ ÆNEAS.

_Cres._ Hector's a gallant warrior.

_Enter_ PANDARUS.

_Pand._ What's that, what's that?

_Cres._ Good-morrow, uncle Pandarus.

_Pand._ Good-morrow, cousin Cressida. When were you at court?

_Cres._ This morning, uncle.

_Pand._ What were you a talking, when I came? Was Hector armed, and gone ere ye came? Hector was stirring early.

_Cres._ That I was talking of, and of his anger.

_Pand._ Was he angry, say you? true, he was so, and I know the cause. He was struck down yesterday in the battle, but he'll lay about him; he'll cry quittance with them to-day. I'll answer for him. And there's Troilus will not come far behind him: let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too.

_Cres._ What, was he struck down too?

_Pand._ Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.

_Cres._ Oh Jupiter! there's no comparison! Troilus the better man.

_Pand._ What, no comparison between Hector and Troilus? do you know a man if you see him?

_Cres._ No: for he may look like a man, and not be one.

_Pand._ Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.

_Cres._ That's what I say; for I am sure he is not Hector.

_Pand._ No, nor Hector is not Troilus: make your best of that, niece!

_Cres._ 'Tis true, for each of them is himself.

_Pand._ Himself! alas, poor Troilus! I would he were himself: well, the gods are all-sufficient, and time must mend or end. I would he were himself, and would I were a lady for his sake. I would not answer for my maidenhead.--No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.

_Cres._ Excuse me.

_Pand._ Pardon me; Troilus is in the bud, 'tis early day with him; you shall tell me another tale when Troilus is come to bearing; and yet he will not bear neither, in some sense. No, Hector shall never have his virtues.

_Cres._ No matter.

_Pand._ Nor his beauty, nor his fashion, nor his wit; he shall have nothing of him.

_Cres._ They would not become him, his own are better.

_Pand._ How, his own better! you have no judgment, niece; Helen herself swore, the other day, that Troilus, for a manly brown complexion,--for so it is, I must confess--not brown neither.

_Cres._ No, but very brown.

_Pand._ Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. Come, I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris: nay, I'm sure she does. She comes me to him the other day, into the bow-window,--and you know Troilus has not above three or four hairs on his chin,--

_Cres._ That's but a bare commendation.

_Pand._ But to prove to you that Helen loves him, she comes, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin.

_Cres._ Has he been fighting then? how came it cloven?

_Pand._ Why, you know it is dimpled. I cannot chuse but laugh, to think how she tickled his cloven chin. She has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess. But let that pass, for I know who has a whiter. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on it, think on it.

_Cres._ So I do, uncle.

_Pand._ I'll be sworn it is true; he will weep ye, an' it were a man born in April. [_A retreat sounded._ Hark, they are returning from the field; shall we stay and see them as they come by, sweet niece? do, sweet niece Cressida.

_Cres._ For once you shall command me.

_Pand._ Here, here, here is an excellent place; we may see them here most bravely, and I'll tell you all their names as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest; mark Troilus, he's worth your marking.

ÆNEAS _passes over the Stage._

_Cres._ Speak not so loud then.

_Pand._ That's Æneas. Is it not a brave man that? he's a swinger, many a Grecian he has laid with his face upward; but mark Troilus: you shall see anon.

_Enter_ ANTENOR _passing._

That's Antenor; he has a notable head-piece I can tell you, and he's the ablest man for judgment in all Troy; you may turn him loose, i'faith, and by my troth a proper person. When comes Troilus? I'll shew you Troilus anon; if he see me, you shall see him nod at me.

HECTOR _passes over._

That's Hector, that, that, look you that; there's a fellow! go thy way, Hector; there's a brave man, niece. O brave Hector, look how he looks! there's a countenance. Is it not a brave man, niece?

_Cres._ I always told you so.

_Pand._ Is he not? it does a man's heart good to look on him; look you, look you there, what hacks are on his helmet! this was no boy's play, i'faith; he laid it on with a vengeance, take it off who will, as they say! there are hacks, niece!

_Cres._ Were those with swords?

_Pand._ Swords, or bucklers, faulchions, darts, and lances! any thing, he cares not! an' the devil come, it is all one to him: by Jupiter he looks so terribly, that I am half afraid to praise him.

_Enter_ PARIS.

Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris! look ye yonder, niece; is it not a brave young prince too? He draws the best bow in all Troy; he hits you to a span twelve-score level:--who said he came home hurt to-day? why, this will do Helen's heart good now! ha! that I could see Troilus now!

_Enter_ HELENUS.

_Cres._ Who's that black man, uncle?

_Pand._ That is Helenus.--I marvel where Troilus is all this while;--that is Helenus.--I think Troilus went not forth to-day;--that's Helenus.

_Cres._ Can Helenus fight, uncle?

_Pand._ Helenus! No, yes; he'll fight indifferently well.--I marvel in my heart what's become of Troilus:--Hark! do you not hear the people cry, Troilus?--Helenus is a priest, and keeps a whore; he'll fight for his whore, or he's no true priest, I warrant him.

_Enter_ TROILUS _passing over._

_Cres._ What sneaking fellow comes yonder?

_Pand._ Where, yonder? that's Deiphobus: No, I lie. I lie, that's Troilus! there's a man, niece! hem! O brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry, and flower of fidelity!

_Cres._ Peace, for shame, peace!

_Pand._ Nay, but mark him then! O brave Troilus! there's a man of men, niece! look you how his sword is bloody, and his helmet more hacked than Hector's, and how he looks, and how he goes! O admirable youth! he never saw two-and-twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way! had I a sister were a grace, and a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice of them. O admirable man! Paris, Paris is dirt to him, and I warrant, Helen, to change, would give all the shoes in her shop to boot.

_Enter common Soldiers passing over._

_Cres._ Here come more.

_Pand._ Asses, fools, dolts, dirt, and dung, stuff, and lumber, porridge after meat; but I could live and die with Troilus. Ne'er look, niece, ne'er look, the lions are gone: apes and monkeys, the fag end of the creation. I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than Agamemnon and all Greece.

_Cres._ There's Achilles among the Greeks, he's a brave man.

_Pand._ Achilles! a carman, a beast of burden; a very camel: have you any eyes, niece? do you know a man? is he to be compared with Troilus?

_Enter Page._

_Page._ Sir, my lord Troilus would instantly speak with you.

_Pand._ Where boy, where?

_Page._ At his own house, if you think convenient.

_Pand._ Good boy, tell him I come instantly: I doubt he's wounded. Farewell, good niece. But I'll be with you by and by.

_Cres._ To bring me, uncle!

_Pand._ Ay, a token from prince Troilus. [_Exit_ PANDAR.

_Cres_. By the same token, you are a procurer, uncle.

CRESSIDA _alone._

A strange dissembling sex we women are: Well may we men, when we ourselves deceive. Long has my secret soul loved Troilus; I drunk his praises from my uncle's mouth, As if my ears could ne'er be satisfied: Why then, why said I not, I love this prince? How could my tongue conspire against my heart, To say I loved him not? O childish love! 'Tis like an infant, froward in his play, And what he most desires, he throws away. [_Exit._