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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? b

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, 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 :

But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness, Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.

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,t—but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit; but

TRO. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,-
When 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
In Cressid's love: thou answer'st, she is fair;
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart

Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice:
Handlest in thy discourse,-0, that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense

(*) Old text, a-scorne, corrected by Rowe. (+) First folio, it.

a - blench-] To blench meant to flinch, or start off. The word is found again in "The Winter's Tale," Act II. Sc. 2; in "Hamlet," Act II. Sc. 2; and in "Measure for Measure," Act IV. Sc. 5.

b-when she comes!-when is she thence?] So Rowe; the old editions having,

"then she comes when she is thence."

* Handlest in thy discourse,-0, that her hand, &c.] This line, we surmise, has suffered from a compositor's transposition: the genuine reading, apparently, being,-

"Handlest in thy discourse her hand, - O, that,
In whose comparison," &c.

Hard as the palm of ploughman -this thou tell'st me,

As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it.

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 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 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 me?

PAN. Because she's 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 blackamoor; 't is 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. An alarum. TRO. Peace, you ungracious clamours! 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 starv'd a subject for my
sword.
But Pandarus,-O gods, how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar;
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo,
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.

Unless, indeed, the words, "her hand," were intended to be repeated,

"Handlest in thy discourse her hand-0, that her hand," &c.

In any case, it is evident from what follows,-"this thou tell'st me," &c.—that Troilus is repeating, or pretending to repeat, what Pandarus had said in praise of Cressida's hand; and the lines should be marked as a quotation.

d she has the mends in her own hands.] This was a proverbial expression; the meaning,-She must make the best of it. So Burton, in his "Anatomy of Melancholy,"-" and if men will be jealous in such cases, the mends is in their own handsthey must thank themselves."

she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday.] We are not sure we understand this; it perhaps means,-She would be considered as fair in ordinary apparel as Helen in holiday finery.

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 call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself, the merchant; and this sailing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

Alarum. Enter ENEAS.

ENE. How now, prince Troilus! wherefore not afield?

TRO. Because not there: this woman's answer sorts,a

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?
ENE.

Troilus, by Menelaus. TRO. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum. ENE. 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? ENE. In all swift haste.

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

What was his cause of

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.

c

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 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.

CRES. Who comes here?

ALEX. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.

Enter 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 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. E'en so; Hector was stirring early. CRES. That were we talking of, and of his

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anger

?

CRES. So he says here.

(*) First folio, chides.

sorts,-] That is, suits, fits, is appropriate. As in "Henry V." Act IV. Sc. 1,

"It sorts well with thy fierceness." Before the sun rose, he was harness'd light,-] Some corruption has been suspected here: and it is noticeable, that both

(*) First folio, purblinded.

(+) First folio, disdaind.

in the quartos and folio the disputed word is spelt lyte, not light yet the obvious meaning, that Hector was lightly armed, is sufficiently intelligible.

cadditions;] Qualities, or characteristics. dagainst the hair:] As we now say,-against the grain. The French have still the expression,-à contrepoil.

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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 colour 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 colour 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.

CRES. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter?b PAN. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him ;-she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin,—

CRES. Juno have mercy!-how came it cloven? PAN. Why, you know, 't is dimpled: I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.

CRES. O, he smiles valiantly.

PAN. Does he not?

CRES. O yes, an 't were a cloud in autumn. PAN. Why, go to then :-but to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus,

(*) Old text, will.-Rowe's correction.

a a merry Greek,-] This expression, which seems to have meant a wag, or humourist, is frequently met with in old books. Our earliest English comedy, "Ralph Roister Dcister," has a character, who is the droll of the piece, called "Mathewe Merygreeke." See, too, Act IV. Sc. 4, of the present play,"A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks."

CRES. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so.

PAN. Troilus! why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.

CRES. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the shell.

PAN. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin ;-indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess.

CRES. Without the rack.

PAN. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chain.

CRES. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. PAN. But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o’er,— CRES. With mill-stones.

PAN. And Cassandra laughed,—

CRES. But there was more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes;-did her eyes run o'er too?

PAN. And Hector laughed.

CRES. At what was all this laughing?

PAN. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin.

CRES. An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed too.

PAN. They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.

CRES. What was his answer?

PAN. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white. CRES. This is her question.

PAN. That's true; make no question of that. One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white: That white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons. Jupiter! quoth she, which of these hairs is Paris, my husband? The forked one, quoth he; pluck't out, and give it him. But there was such laughing! and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the rest so laughed, that it passed.

CRES. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by.

PAN. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on't.

CRES. So I do.*

PAN. I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, an 't were a man born in April.

CRES. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 't were a nettle against May. [A retreat sounded. PAN. Hark! they are coming from the field:

(*) First folio, does.

b- so old a lifter?] A "lifter" was anciently a cant term for a thief; and we still retain it in shop-lifter.

cone and fifty hairs-] The old text has, "-two and fifty hairs," &c., which Theobald changed, to make out the number of Priam and his fifty sons.

shall we stand up here, and see them as they | Helen's heart good now, ha!-Would I could pass toward Ilium? good niece, do; sweet niece see Troilus now!-you shall see *Troilus anon. Cressida.

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PAN. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart good :look you what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do you see? look you there! there's no jesting: there's § laying on, take 't off who will,|| as they say: there be hacks!

CRES. Be those with swords?

PAN. Swords! any thing, he cares not: an the devil come to him, it's all one: by God's lid, it does one's heart good.-Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris: look ye yonder, niece; is 't not a gallant man too, is 't not?

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HELENUS passes over.

CRES. Who's that?

PAN. That's Helenus :-I marvel where Troilus is-that's Helenus;-I think he went not forth to-day-that's Helenus.

CRES. Can Helenus fight, uncle?

PAN. Helenus! no:-yes, he'll fight indifferent well:-I marvel where Troilus is!-Hark! do you not hear the people cry, Troilus?-Helenus is a priest.

CRES. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?

TROILUS passes over.

PAN. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus."Tis Troilus! there's a man, niece!-Hem!Brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry!

CRES. Peace, for shame, peace!

PAN. Mark him; note† him ;-O brave Troilus!-look well upon him, niece; look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hacked than Hector's; and how he looks, and how he goes!-O, admirable youth! he ne'er saw threeand-twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way!Had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. O, admirable man! Paris?-Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye‡ to boot. CRES. Here come more.

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PAN. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat !—I could live and die i' the eyes of Troilus.-Ne'er look, ne'er look ; the eagles are gone; crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than Agamemnon and all Greece.

CRES. There is among the Greeks, Achilles,a better man than Troilus.

PAN. Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very camel.

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