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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.

Troi. Pandarus,
Pan. Not I.
Troi. Sweet Pandarus,-

Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave all as I found it, and there an end. (Exit Pandarus.

Sound alarum, Troi. Peace, you ungracious clamours ! peace, rude

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 ftarv'd a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus, gods, how do you plague me !
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar ;
And he's as o teachy to be woo'd 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 Pour Iliu. and where she resides,
Let it be callid the wild and wandering food;
Ourself, the merchant ; and this failing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

[Alarum.] Enter Æneas. Æne. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield?

Troi. Because not there; This woman's answer forts, For womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?

Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

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Troi. By whom, Æneas ?
Æne. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed : 'tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.

[Alarum. Æne. Hark! what good sport is out of town to-day!

Troi. Better at home, if would I might, were may.--
But, to the sport abroad ;-Are you bound thither ?

Æne. In all swift haste.
Troi. Come, go we then together,


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Enter Cressida, and Alexander her Servant.
Cre. Who were those went by?
Serv. Queen Hecuba, and Helen.
Cre. And whither go they?

Serv. Up to the eastern tower,
Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
Is, as the 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,

Cre. What was his cause of anger ?

Serv. The noise goes, this: There is among the Greeks
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;
They call him, Ajax,


9 as the virtue]-as the Goddess herself.

barnefs'd ligbi,]-equipped, and ready for action.


Cre. Good; And what of him?

Serv. They say he is a very man per fe, And stands alone.

Cre. So do all men; unless they are drunk, fick, or have no legs.

Serv. This man, lady, hath robb’d many beasts of their ' particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, now as the elephant : a man into whom niature hath so crowded humours, that his valour is crushed into folly, his folly fauced with discretion : there is no man hath a virtue, that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, but he carries fome 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 purblinded Argus, all eyes and no fight.

Cre. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry?

Serv. They say, he yesterday * cop'd Hector in the battle, and struck him down; the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.

Enter Pandarus.

Cre. Who comes here?
Serv. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Cre. Hector's a gallant man.
Serv. As may be in the world, lady.
Pan. What's that? what's that?

a very man per fe,]-a very A per fe-an extraordinary personage. particular additions ; ]-distinguishing qualities, cru med]-confused, mingled with, incorporated.

« Cruh bim together" CYMBELINE, AC I. S. 1. i Gent, w the hair :)-the grain. Vol. I. p. 206. * cop'd]-encountered.


Cre. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cresid : What do you talk of?-Good morrow, Alexander.—How do you, coufin? When were you at Ilium ?

Cre. This morning, uncle.

Pan. What were you talking of, when I came ?
Was Hector arm’d, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium?
Helen was not up, was she?

Cre. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.
Pan. E'en so; Hector was stirring early.
Cre. That were we talking of, and of his anger.
Pan. Was he angry?
Cre. 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's Troilus will not come far behind him; let them' take heed of Troilus ; I can tell them that too.

Cre. What, is he angry too?
Pan. Who, Troilus ? Troilus is the better man of the


know a man,

Cre. O, Jupiter ! there's no comparison.
Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you


see him?
Cre. Ay; if I ever saw him before, and knew him.
Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.

Cre. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector.

Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees. Cre. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself.

Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus ! I would, he were,

Cre. So he is.
Pan. ? — Condition, I had gone bare-foot to India.

2 – 'Condition, I bad gone]—If so, then have I gone.


Cre. 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.

Cre. Excuse me.
Pan. He is elder.
Cre. 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.

Cre. He shall not need it, if he have his own,
Pan. Nor his qualities.
Cre. No matter,
Pan. Nor his beauty.
Cre. '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 favour, (for so 'tis, I must confess)-Not brown neither.

Cre. No, but brown.
Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
Cre. To say the truth, true and not true.
Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris.
Cre. Why, Paris hath colour enough.
Pan. So he has,

Cre. Then, Troilus should have too much: if she prais'd 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 lieve, Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nofe.

Pan. I swear to you, I think, Helen loves him better than Paris.


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