36CAll here my Varlet, Ile vnarme againe.

37Why should I warre without the wals of Troy

38That finde such cruell battell here within?

39Each Troian that is master of his heart,

40Let him to field, Troylus alas hath none.

41Pan. Will this geere nere be mended?

42Troy. The Greeks are strong, & skilful to their strength,

43Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenesse Valiant:

44But I am weaker then a womans teare;

45Tamer then sleepe, fonder then ignorance;

46Lesse valiant then the Virgin in the night,

47And skillesse as vnpractis'd Infancie.

48Pan. Well, I haue told you enough of this: For my

49part, Ile not meddle nor make no farther. Hee that will

50haue a Cake out of the Wheate, must needes tarry the

51grinding.

52Troy. Haue I not tarried?

53Pan. I the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.

54Troy. Haue I not tarried?

55Pan. I the boulting; but you must tarry the leau'ing.

56Troy. Still haue I tarried.

57Pan. I, to the leauening: but heeres yet in the word

58hereafter, the Kneading, the making of the Cake, the

59heating of the Ouen, and the Baking; nay, you must stay

60the cooling too, or you may chance to burne your lips.

61Troy. Patience her selfe, what Goddesse ere she be,

62Doth lesser blench at sufferance, then I doe:

63At Priams Royall Table doe I sit;

64And when faire Cressid comes into my thoughts,

65So (Traitor) then she comes, when she is thence.

66Pan. Well:

67She look'd yesternight fairer, then euer I saw her looke,

68Or any woman else.

69Troy. I was about to tell thee, when my heart,

70As wedged with a sigh, would riue in twaine,

71Least Hector, or my Father should perceiue me:

72I haue (as when the Sunne doth light a-scorne)

73Buried this sigh, in wrinkle of a smile:

74But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladnesse,

75Is like that mirth, Fate turnes to sudden sadnesse.

76Pan. And her haire were not somewhat darker then

77Helens, well go too, there were no more comparison be-

78tweene the Women. But for my part she is my Kinswo-

79man, I would not (as they tearme it) praise it, but I wold

80some-body had heard her talke yesterday as I did: I will

81not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but---

82Troy. Oh Pandarus! I tell thee Pandarus;

83When I doe tell thee, there my hopes lye drown'd:

84Reply not in how many Fadomes deepe

85They lye indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad

86In Cressids loue. Thou answer'st she is Faire,

87Powr'st in the open Vlcer of my heart,

88Her Eyes, her Haire, her Cheeke, her Gate, her Voice,

89Handlest in thy discourse. O that her Hand

90(In whose comparison, all whites are Inke)

91Writing their owne reproach; to whose soft seizure,

92The Cignets Downe is harsh, and spirit of Sense

93Hard as the palme of Plough-man. This thou tel'st me;

94As true thou tel'st me, when I say I loue her:

95But saying thus, instead of Oyle and Balme,

96Thou lai'st in euery gash that loue hath giuen me,

97The Knife that made it.

98Pan. I speake no more then truth.

99Troy. Thou do'st not speake so much.

100Pan. Faith, Ile not meddle in't: Let her be as shee is,

101if she be faire, 'tis the better for her: and she be not, she

102ha's the mends in her owne hands.

103Troy. Good Pandarus: How now Pandarus?

104Pan. I haue had my Labour for my trauell, ill thought

105on of her, and ill thought on of you: Gone betweene and

106betweene, but small thankes for my labour.

107Troy. What art thou angry Pandarus? what with me?

108Pan. Because she's Kinne to me, therefore shee's not

109so faire as Helen, and she were not kin to me, she would

110be as faire on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what

111care I? I care not and she were a Black-a-Moore, 'tis all

112one to me.

113Troy. Say I she is not faire?

114Troy. I doe not care whether you doe or no. Shee's a

115Foole to stay behinde her Father: Let her to the Greeks,

116and so Ile tell her the next time I see her: for my part, Ile

117meddle nor make no more i'th' matter.

118Troy. Pandarus? Pan. Not I.

119Troy. Sweete Pandarus.

120Pan. Pray you speake no more to me, I will leaue all

121as I found it, and there an end. Exit Pand.

123Tro. Peace you vngracious Clamors, peace rude sounds,

124Fooles on both sides, Helen must needs be faire,

125When with your bloud you daily paint her thus.

126I cannot fight vpon this Argument:

127It is too staru'd a subiect for my Sword,

128But Pandarus: O Gods! How do you plague me?

129I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar,

130And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woe,

131As she is stubborne, chast, against all suite.

132Tell me Apollo for thy Daphnes Loue

133What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we:

134Her bed is India, there she lies, a Pearle,

135Between our Ilium, and where shee recides

136Let it be cald the wild and wandring flood,

137Our selfe the Merchant, and this sayling Pandar,

138Our doubtfull hope, our conuoy and our Barke.

140AEne. How now Prince Troylus?

141Wherefore not a field?

142Troy. Because not there; this womans answer sorts.

143For womanish it is to be from thence:

144What newes AEneas from the field to day?

145AEne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

146Troy. By whom AEneas?

147AEne. Troylus by Menelaus.

148Troy. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorne.

149Paris is gor'd with Menelaus horne. Alarum.

150AEne. Harke what good sport is out of Towne to day.

151Troy. Better at home, if would I might were may:

152But to the sport abroad, are you bound thither?

153AEne. In all swift hast.

154Troy. Come goe wee then togither. Exeunt.