TROILUS
Call here my varlet; I’ll unarm again.
Why should I war without the walls of Troy
That find such cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan that is master of his heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas! none.
PANDARUS
Will this gear be mended?
TROILUS
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, fonder than ignorance,
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpractis’d infancy.
PANDARUS
Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part, I’ll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding.
TROILUS
Have I not tarried?
PANDARUS
Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
TROILUS
Have I not tarried?
PANDARUS
Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
TROILUS
Still have I tarried.
PANDARUS
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 burn your lips.
TROILUS
Patience herself, what goddess e’er she be,
lesser blench at suff’rance 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 she is ?
PANDARUS
Well, she look’d yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
TROILUS
I was about to tell : 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 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.
PANDARUS
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 sister Cassandra’s wit; but—
TROILUS
O Pandarus! I tell , Pandarus,
When I do tell there my hopes lie drown’d,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench’d. I tell I am mad
In Cressid’s love. 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 discourse. O! 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
Hard as the palm of ploughman! This tell’st me,
As true tell’st me, when I say I love her;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
lay’st in every gash that love given me
The knife that made it.
PANDARUS
I speak no more than truth.
TROILUS
not speak so much.
PANDARUS
Faith, I’ll not meddle in’t. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, the better for her; and she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.
TROILUS
Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus!
PANDARUS
I have had my labour for my travail, ill thought on of her and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.
TROILUS
What! art angry, Pandarus? What! with me?
PANDARUS
Because she’s kin to me, therefore she’s not so fair as Helen. And 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 and she were a blackamoor; all one to me.
TROILUS
Say I she is not fair?
PANDARUS
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 i’ the matter.
TROILUS
Pandarus—
PANDARUS
Not I.
TROILUS
Sweet Pandarus—
PANDARUS
Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I found it, and there an end.
TROILUS
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.
Tell me, Apollo, for 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.
AENEAS
How now, Prince Troilus! not afield?
TROILUS
Because not there. This woman’s answer sorts,
For womanish it is to be from .
What news, Aeneas, from the field today?
AENEAS
That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
TROILUS
By whom, Aeneas?
AENEAS
Troilus, by Menelaus.
TROILUS
Let Paris bleed: but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gor’d with Menelaus’ horn.
AENEAS
Hark what good sport is out of town today!
TROILUS
Better at home, if ‘would I might’ were ‘may.’
But to the sport abroad. Are you bound ?
AENEAS
In all swift haste.
TROILUS
Come, go we then together.