HELEN, Wife to Menelaus.

ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector.

CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess
CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas.

ALEXANDER, Creffida's Servant.
Boy, Page to Troilus.

Servant to Diomedes.

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, with other Attendants. SCENE, Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it

ACT I.

SCENE I. Troy. PRIAM's Palace.
Enter PANDARUS, and TROILUS.

Troilus.

ALL here my varlet, I'll unarm again:
Why fhould I war without the walls of Troy,

CA

That find fuch cruel battle here within?

Each Trojan, that is master of his heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none.
Pan. Will this gear ne'er be mended?

Troi. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their
ftrength,

Fierce to their skill, and to their fiercenefs valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than fleep, fonder than ignorance;
Lefs valiant than the virgin in the night,
And fkill-lefs as unpractis'd infancy.

Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He, that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding.

Trai. Have I not tarry'd?

Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the boulting.

Troi. Have I not tarry'd?

Pan. Ay, the boulting; but you must tarry the leavening.

A 3

Troi.

Troi. Still have I tarry'd.

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.

Troi. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth leffer blench at sufferance than I do.

At Priam's royal table do I fit;

And when fair Creffid comes into my thoughts,So, traitor!-when she comes!-When is the thence? Pan. Well, fhe look'd yester-night fairer than ever I faw her look; or any woman else.

Troi. I was about to tell thee,-When my heart, As wedged with a figh, would rive in twain; Left Hector or my father should perceive me, I have (as when the fun doth light a storm) Bury'd this figh in wrinkle of a smile:

But forrow, that is couch'd in feeming gladness, Is like that mirth fate turns to fudden fadnefs.

Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's (well, go to), there were no more comparifon between the women,-But, for my part, she is my kinfwoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her,-But I would fomebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your fifter Caffandra's wit: but

Troi. 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 Creffid's love: Thou answer'ft, She is fair; Pour'ft in the open ulcer of my heart

Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait; her voice

Handlest

Handleft in thy difcourfe :

-O that her hand! In whose comparison all whites are ink,

Writing their own reproach; to whofe foft feizure The cygnet's down is harfh, and spirit of fenfe Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'ft me, As true thou tell'ft me, when I fay-I love her; But, faying this, inftead of oil and balm,

Thou lay'it in every gash that love has given me The knife that made it.

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 fhe is if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an fhe be not, she has the mends in her own hands.

Troi. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus? Pan. I have had my labour for my travel; illthought 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 she is kin to me, therefore she'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 to me.

Troi. Say I, fhe 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, fo I'll tell her, the next time I fee 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 founds!

Fools on both fides! Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument;

It is too ftary'd a fubject for my fword.
But Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague me
I cannot come to Creffid, but by Pandar:
And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woo,
As fhe is ftubborn-chafte against all fuit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Creffid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Her bed is India; there fhe lies, a pearl:
Between our Ilium, and where the refides,
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself, the merchant; and this failing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

[Alarum.] Enter ENEAS.

Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield?

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

Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. Troi. By whom, Æneas?

Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a fear to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum, Ene. Hark! what good fport is out of town today!

Troi.