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Tamer than fleep, fonder than ignorance;
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make any farther. He that will have a cake out of the wheat, muft tarry the grinding.
Troi. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you muft tarry the boulting. Troi. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the boulting; but you must tarry the leav'ning. Troi. Still have I tarried.
Pan. Ay, to the leav'ning; 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 muft stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips.
Troi. Patience her felf, what Goddefs e'er fhe be,
And when fair Creffid comes into my thoughts,
Troi. I was about to tell thee, when my heart
Pan. An her hair were not fomewhat darker than Helen'swell, go to, there were no more comparifon between the women. But for my part fhe is my kinfwoman, I would not (as they term it) praife her but I would fomebody had heard her talk yefterday, as I did:
did: I will not difpraise your fifter Caffandra's wit,
Troi. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd,
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gate, her voice;
Thou lay'ft in every gafh that love hath given me,
Pan. I fpeak no more than truth.
Troi. Thou doft not speak fo much.
Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as the is, if he be fair, 'tis the better for her; an fhe be not, fhe has the 'mends in her own hands.
Troi. Good Pandarus; how now, Pandarus?
Pan. I have had my labour for my travel, ill thought on of her, and ill thought on of you: gone between and between, but fmall thanks for my labour.
Troi. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me? Pan. Because fhe is kin to me, therefore fhe's not fo fair as Helen; an fhe were not kin to me, fhe would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an fhe were a black-a-moor, 'tis all one
Troi. Say I, fhe is not fair?
Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. fool to stay behind her father: let her to the Greeks, and
fo I'll tell her the next time I fee her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i'th' matter.
Pan. Not I.
Troi. Sweet Pandarus
me; I will leave [Exit Pandarus. [Sound Alarum.
Troi.Peace,you ungracious clamours! peace, rude founds!
It is too ftarv'd a fubject for my sword:
Ene. How now, Prince Troilus? wherefore not i'th field?
Pan. 'Pray you speak no more to all as I found it, and there's an end.
Troi. Because not there; this woman's anfwer forts, For womanifh it is to be from thence:
What news, Eneas, from the field to-day?
Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Troi. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a fear to fcorn,
Ane. Hark, what good fport is out of town to-day?
Troi. Come, go we then together.
Between the Palace and the City.
Enter Creffida and a Servant, named Alexander.
HO were thofe went by.?
Cre. And whither go they?
Cre. What was his caufe of anger?
Ser. The noife goes thus; There is among the Greeks,
Cre. Good; and what of him?
Ser. They fay he is a very man per fe, and ftands alone. Cre. So do all men, unlefs they are drunk, fick, or have no legs.
5 a... old edit. Warb. emend.
6 harneft light,. . . old edit. Theob, emend.
Ser. This man, Lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, flow as the elephant; a man into whom nature hath fo crouded humours, that his valour is crusht into folly, his folly fauced with difcretion: 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 caufe, and merry against the hair; he hath the joints of every thing, but every thing fo out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and of no ufe; or a purblind' Argus, all eyes and no fight.
Cre. But how fhould this man (that makes me fmile) make Hector angry?
Ser. They fay, he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battel and ftruck him down, the difdain and fhame whereof hath ever fince kept Helor fafting and waking.
Cre. Who comes here?
Ser. Madam, your uncle Pandarus:
Cre. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
Pan. Good morrow, coufin Creffid: what do you talk of good morrow, Alexander.How do you, coufin? when were you at Ilium? a
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 fhe?
Cre. Hector was gone, but Helen was not up.
(a) Throughout this Play the name of Ilium feems to be given only to the palace of Priam. 7 and no ufe; or purblind