Speeches (Lines) for Pandarus in "Troilus and Cressida"

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! hath none.

Pandarus. Will this gear ne'er 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 unpractised infancy.

Pandarus. 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 needs 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 to burn your lips.

Troilus. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
Doth lesser blench at sufferance 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 is she thence?

Pandarus. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw
her look, or any woman else.

Troilus. I was about to tell thee:--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 doth 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 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 Cressid's love: thou 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 thy 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 thou tell'st me,
As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it.

Pandarus. I speak no more than truth.

Troilus. Thou dost not speak so much.

Pandarus. Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is:
if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an 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 thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?

Pandarus. Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair
as Helen: an 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 an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis 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.

Alexander. As may be in the world, lady.

Pandarus. What's that? what's that?

Cressida. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Pandarus. Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of?
Good morrow, Alexander. How do you, cousin? When
were you at Ilium?

Cressida. This morning, uncle.

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

Cressida. Hector was gone, but Helen was not up.

Pandarus. Even so: Hector was stirring early.

Cressida. That were we talking of, and of his anger.

Pandarus. Was he angry?

Cressida. So he says here.

Pandarus. 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.

Cressida. What, is he angry too?

Pandarus. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.

Cressida. O Jupiter! there's no comparison.

Pandarus. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a
man if you see him?

Cressida. Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him.

Pandarus. Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.

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

Pandarus. No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees.

Cressida. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself.

Pandarus. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were.

Cressida. So he is.

Pandarus. Condition, I had gone barefoot to India.

Cressida. He is not Hector.

Pandarus. 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.

Cressida. Excuse me.

Pandarus. He is elder.

Cressida. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pandarus. Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me another
tale, when th' other's come to't. Hector shall not
have his wit this year.

Cressida. He shall not need it, if he have his own.

Pandarus. Nor his qualities.

Cressida. No matter.

Pandarus. Nor his beauty.

Cressida. 'Twould not become him; his own's better.

Pandarus. You have no judgment, niece: Helen
herself swore th' other day, that Troilus, for
a brown favour--for so 'tis, I must confess,--
not brown neither,--

Cressida. No, but brown.

Pandarus. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.

Cressida. To say the truth, true and not true.

Pandarus. She praised his complexion above Paris.

Cressida. Why, Paris hath colour enough.

Pandarus. So he has.

Cressida. Then Troilus should have too much: if she praised
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
lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for
a copper nose.

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

Cressida. Then she's a merry Greek indeed.

Pandarus. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other
day into the compassed window,--and, you know, he
has not past three or four hairs on his chin,--

Cressida. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his
particulars therein to a total.

Pandarus. Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within
three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector.

Cressida. Is he so young a man and so old a lifter?

Pandarus. But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came
and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin--

Cressida. Juno have mercy! how came it cloven?

Pandarus. Why, you know 'tis dimpled: I think his smiling
becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.

Cressida. O, he smiles valiantly.

Pandarus. Does he not?

Cressida. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.

Pandarus. Why, go to, then: but to prove to you that Helen
loves Troilus,--

Cressida. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll
prove it so.

Pandarus. Troilus! why, he esteems her no more than I esteem
an addle egg.

Cressida. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle
head, you would eat chickens i' the shell.

Pandarus. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled
his chin: indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I
must needs confess,--

Cressida. Without the rack.

Pandarus. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.

Cressida. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.

Pandarus. But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed
that her eyes ran o'er.

Cressida. With mill-stones.

Pandarus. And Cassandra laughed.

Cressida. But there was more temperate fire under the pot of
her eyes: did her eyes run o'er too?

Pandarus. And Hector laughed.

Cressida. At what was all this laughing?

Pandarus. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin.

Cressida. An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed
too.

Pandarus. They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.

Cressida. What was his answer?

Pandarus. Quoth she, 'Here's but two and fifty hairs on your
chin, and one of them is white.

Cressida. This is her question.

Pandarus. That's true; make no question of that. 'Two and
fifty hairs' quoth he, 'and one white: that white
hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons.'
'Jupiter!' quoth she, 'which of these hairs is Paris,
my husband? 'The forked one,' quoth he, 'pluck't
out, and give it him.' But there was such laughing!
and Helen so blushed, an Paris so chafed, and all the
rest so laughed, that it passed.

Cressida. So let it now; for it has been while going by.

Pandarus. Well, cousin. I told you a thing yesterday; think on't.

Cressida. So I do.

Pandarus. I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, an 'twere
a man born in April.

Cressida. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle
against May.

Pandarus. Hark! they are coming from the field: shall we
stand up here, and see them as they pass toward
Ilium? good niece, do, sweet niece Cressida.

Cressida. At your pleasure.

Pandarus. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may
see most bravely: I'll tell you them all by their
names as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest.

Cressida. Speak not so loud.

Pandarus. That's AEneas: is not that a brave man? he's one of
the flowers of Troy, I can tell you: but mark
Troilus; you shall see anon.

Cressida. Who's that?

Pandarus. That's Antenor: he has a shrewd wit, I can tell you;
and he's a man good enough, he's one o' the soundest
judgments in whosoever, and a proper man of person.
When comes Troilus? I'll show you Troilus anon: if
he see me, you shall see him nod at me.

Cressida. Will he give you the nod?

Pandarus. You shall see.

Cressida. If he do, the rich shall have more.

Pandarus. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a
fellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man,
niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks! there's
a countenance! is't not a brave man?

Cressida. O, a brave man!

Pandarus. Is a' not? it does a man's heart good. Look you
what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do
you see? look you there: there's no jesting;
there's laying on, take't off who will, as they say:
there be hacks!

Cressida. Be those with swords?

Pandarus. Swords! any thing, he cares not; an the devil come
to him, it's all one: by God's lid, it does one's
heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris.
[PARIS passes]
Look ye yonder, niece; is't not a gallant man too,
is't not? Why, this is brave now. Who said he came
hurt home to-day? he's not hurt: why, this will do
Helen's heart good now, ha! Would I could see
Troilus now! You shall see Troilus anon.

Cressida. Who's that?

Pandarus. That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That's
Helenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus.

Cressida. Can Helenus fight, uncle?

Pandarus. Helenus? no. Yes, he'll fight indifferent well. I
marvel where Troilus is. Hark! do you not hear the
people cry 'Troilus'? Helenus is a priest.

Cressida. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?

Pandarus. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus!
there's a man, niece! Hem! Brave Troilus! the
prince of chivalry!

Cressida. Peace, for shame, peace!

Pandarus. Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon
him, niece: look you how his sword is bloodied, and
his helm more hacked than Hector's, and how he looks,
and how he goes! O admirable youth! he ne'er saw
three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way!
Had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess,
he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris?
Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to
change, would give an eye to boot.

Cressida. Here come more.

Pandarus. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran!
porridge after meat! I could live and die i' the
eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look: the eagles
are gone: crows and daws, crows and daws! I had
rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and
all Greece.

Cressida. There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.

Pandarus. Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very camel.

Cressida. Well, well.

Pandarus. 'Well, well!' why, have you any discretion? have
you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not
birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood,
learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality,
and such like, the spice and salt that season a man?

Cressida. Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked with no date
in the pie, for then the man's date's out.

Pandarus. You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you
lie.

Cressida. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to
defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine
honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to
defend all these: and at all these wards I lie, at a
thousand watches.

Pandarus. Say one of your watches.

Cressida. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the
chiefest of them too: if I cannot ward what I would
not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took
the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it's
past watching.

Pandarus. You are such another!

Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.

Pandarus. Where?

Boy. At your own house; there he unarms him.

Pandarus. Good boy, tell him I come.
[Exit boy]
I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.

Cressida. Adieu, uncle.

Pandarus. I'll be with you, niece, by and by.

Cressida. To bring, uncle?

Pandarus. Ay, a token from Troilus.

Agamemnon. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.

Pandarus. Friend, you! pray you, a word: do not you follow
the young Lord Paris?

Servant. Ay, sir, when he goes before me.

Pandarus. You depend upon him, I mean?

Servant. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.

Pandarus. You depend upon a noble gentleman; I must needs
praise him.

Servant. The lord be praised!

Pandarus. You know me, do you not?

Servant. Faith, sir, superficially.

Pandarus. Friend, know me better; I am the Lord Pandarus.

Servant. I hope I shall know your honour better.

Pandarus. I do desire it.

Servant. You are in the state of grace.

Pandarus. Grace! not so, friend: honour and lordship are my titles.
[Music within]
What music is this?

Servant. I do but partly know, sir: it is music in parts.

Pandarus. Know you the musicians?

Servant. Wholly, sir.

Pandarus. Who play they to?

Servant. To the hearers, sir.

Pandarus. At whose pleasure, friend

Servant. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.

Pandarus. Command, I mean, friend.

Servant. Who shall I command, sir?

Pandarus. Friend, we understand not one another: I am too
courtly and thou art too cunning. At whose request
do these men play?

Servant. That's to 't indeed, sir: marry, sir, at the request
of Paris my lord, who's there in person; with him,
the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's
invisible soul,--

Pandarus. Who, my cousin Cressida?

Servant. No, sir, Helen: could you not find out that by her
attributes?

Pandarus. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the
Lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the
Prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault
upon him, for my business seethes.

Servant. Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase indeed!

Pandarus. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair
company! fair desires, in all fair measure,
fairly guide them! especially to you, fair queen!
fair thoughts be your fair pillow!

Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words.

Pandarus. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair
prince, here is good broken music.

Paris. You have broke it, cousin: and, by my life, you
shall make it whole again; you shall piece it out
with a piece of your performance. Nell, he is full
of harmony.

Pandarus. Truly, lady, no.

Helen. O, sir,--

Pandarus. Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude.

Paris. Well said, my lord! well, you say so in fits.

Pandarus. I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord,
will you vouchsafe me a word?

Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll hear you
sing, certainly.

Pandarus. Well, sweet queen. you are pleasant with me. But,
marry, thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed
friend, your brother Troilus,--

Helen. My Lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord,--

Pandarus. Go to, sweet queen, to go:--commends himself most
affectionately to you,--

Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody: if you do,
our melancholy upon your head!

Pandarus. Sweet queen, sweet queen! that's a sweet queen, i' faith.

Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.

Pandarus. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall not,
in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no,
no. And, my lord, he desires you, that if the king
call for him at supper, you will make his excuse.

Helen. My Lord Pandarus,--

Pandarus. What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen?

Helen. Nay, but, my lord,--

Pandarus. What says my sweet queen? My cousin will fall out
with you. You must not know where he sups.

Paris. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida.

Pandarus. No, no, no such matter; you are wide: come, your
disposer is sick.

Paris. Well, I'll make excuse.

Pandarus. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? no,
your poor disposer's sick.

Paris. I spy.

Pandarus. You spy! what do you spy? Come, give me an
instrument. Now, sweet queen.

Helen. Why, this is kindly done.

Pandarus. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have,
sweet queen.

Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris.

Pandarus. He! no, she'll none of him; they two are twain.

Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.

Pandarus. Come, come, I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing
you a song now.

Helen. Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou
hast a fine forehead.

Pandarus. Ay, you may, you may.

Helen. Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all.
O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!

Pandarus. Love! ay, that it shall, i' faith.

Paris. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.

Pandarus. In good troth, it begins so.
[Sings]
Love, love, nothing but love, still more!
For, O, love's bow
Shoots buck and doe:
The shaft confounds,
Not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore.
These lovers cry Oh! oh! they die!
Yet that which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he!
So dying love lives still:
Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha!
Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha!
Heigh-ho!

Paris. He eats nothing but doves, love, and that breeds hot
blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot
thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love.

Pandarus. Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot
thoughts, and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers:
is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, who's
a-field to-day?

Helen. He hangs the lip at something: you know all, Lord Pandarus.

Pandarus. Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they
sped to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse?

Paris. To a hair.

Pandarus. Farewell, sweet queen.

Helen. Commend me to your niece.

Pandarus. I will, sweet queen.

Paris. Sweet, above thought I love thee.

Pandarus. How now! where's thy master? at my cousin
Cressida's?

Boy. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.

Pandarus. O, here he comes.
[Enter TROILUS]
How now, how now!

Troilus. Sirrah, walk off.

Pandarus. Have you seen my cousin?

Troilus. No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door,
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those fields
Where I may wallow in the lily-beds
Proposed for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings
And fly with me to Cressid!

Pandarus. Walk here i' the orchard, I'll bring her straight.

Troilus. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.
The imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense: what will it be,
When that the watery palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice repured nectar? death, I fear me,
Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine,
Too subtle-potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my ruder powers:
I fear it much; and I do fear besides,
That I shall lose distinction in my joys;
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
The enemy flying.

Pandarus. She's making her ready, she'll come straight: you
must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches
her wind so short, as if she were frayed with a
sprite: I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest
villain: she fetches her breath as short as a
new-ta'en sparrow.

Troilus. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom:
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encountering
The eye of majesty.

Pandarus. Come, come, what need you blush? shame's a baby.
Here she is now: swear the oaths now to her that
you have sworn to me. What, are you gone again?
you must be watched ere you be made tame, must you?
Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw backward,
we'll put you i' the fills. Why do you not speak to
her? Come, draw this curtain, and let's see your
picture. Alas the day, how loath you are to offend
daylight! an 'twere dark, you'ld close sooner.
So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress. How now!
a kiss in fee-farm! build there, carpenter; the air
is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere
I part you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the
ducks i' the river: go to, go to.

Troilus. You have bereft me of all words, lady.

Pandarus. Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but she'll
bereave you o' the deeds too, if she call your
activity in question. What, billing again? Here's
'In witness whereof the parties interchangeably'--
Come in, come in: I'll go get a fire.

Cressida. Will you walk in, my lord?

Pandarus. What, blushing still? have you not done talking yet?

Cressida. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.

Pandarus. I thank you for that: if my lord get a boy of you,
you'll give him me. Be true to my lord: if he
flinch, chide me for it.

Troilus. You know now your hostages; your uncle's word and my
firm faith.

Pandarus. Nay, I'll give my word for her too: our kindred,
though they be long ere they are wooed, they are
constant being won: they are burs, I can tell you;
they'll stick where they are thrown.

Troilus. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.

Pandarus. Pretty, i' faith.

Troilus. Your leave, sweet Cressid!

Pandarus. Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning,--

Cressida. Prophet may you be!
If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
When time is old and hath forgot itself,
When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy,
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,
And mighty states characterless are grated
To dusty nothing, yet let memory,
From false to false, among false maids in love,
Upbraid my falsehood! when they've said 'as false
As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son,'
'Yea,' let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
'As false as Cressid.'

Pandarus. Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it; I'll be the
witness. Here I hold your hand, here my cousin's.
If ever you prove false one to another, since I have
taken such pains to bring you together, let all
pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end
after my name; call them all Pandars; let all
constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids,
and all brokers-between Pandars! say, amen.

Cressida. Amen.

Pandarus. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber with a
bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of your
pretty encounters, press it to death: away!
And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here
Bed, chamber, Pandar to provide this gear!

Cressida. Prithee, tarry:
You men will never tarry.
O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark!
there's one up.

Pandarus. [Within] What, 's all the doors open here?

Cressida. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking:
I shall have such a life!

Pandarus. How now, how now! how go maidenheads? Here, you
maid! where's my cousin Cressid?

Cressida. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!
You bring me to do, and then you flout me too.

Pandarus. To do what? to do what? let her say
what: what have I brought you to do?

Cressida. Come, come, beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good,
Nor suffer others.

Pandarus. Ha! ha! Alas, poor wretch! ah, poor capocchia!
hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty
man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him!

Cressida. Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing.
[Knocking within]
How earnestly they knock! Pray you, come in:
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.

Pandarus. Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat
down the door? How now! what's the matter?

Aeneas. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

Pandarus. Who's there? my Lord AEneas! By my troth,
I knew you not: what news with you so early?

Aeneas. Is not Prince Troilus here?

Pandarus. Here! what should he do here?

Aeneas. Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him:
It doth import him much to speak with me.

Pandarus. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll
be sworn: for my own part, I came in late. What
should he do here?

Aeneas. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature
Have not more gift in taciturnity.

Pandarus. Is't possible? no sooner got but lost? The devil
take Antenor! the young prince will go mad: a
plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke 's neck!

Cressida. How now! what's the matter? who was here?

Pandarus. Ah, ah!

Cressida. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord? gone!
Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pandarus. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above!

Cressida. O the gods! what's the matter?

Pandarus. Prithee, get thee in: would thou hadst ne'er been
born! I knew thou wouldst be his death. O, poor
gentleman! A plague upon Antenor!

Cressida. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees! beseech you,
what's the matter?

Pandarus. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou
art changed for Antenor: thou must to thy father,
and be gone from Troilus: 'twill be his death;
'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.

Cressida. O you immortal gods! I will not go.

Pandarus. Thou must.

Cressida. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity;
No kin no love, no blood, no soul so near me
As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep,--

Pandarus. Do, do.

Paris. I know what 'tis to love;
And would, as I shall pity, I could help!
Please you walk in, my lords.

Pandarus. Be moderate, be moderate.

Cressida. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong
As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief.
My love admits no qualifying dross;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Pandarus. Here, here, here he comes.
[Enter TROILUS]
Ah, sweet ducks!

Cressida. O Troilus! Troilus!

Pandarus. What a pair of spectacles is here!
Let me embrace too. 'O heart,' as the goodly saying is,
'--O heart, heavy heart,
Why sigh'st thou without breaking?
where he answers again,
'Because thou canst not ease thy smart
By friendship nor by speaking.'
There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away
nothing, for we may live to have need of such a
verse: we see it, we see it. How now, lambs?

Cressida. Have the gods envy?

Pandarus. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case.

Troilus. Hark! you are call'd: some say the Genius so
Cries 'come' to him that instantly must die.
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.

Pandarus. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or
my heart will be blown up by the root.

Troilus. They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe,
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.

Pandarus. Do you hear, my lord? do you hear?

Troilus. What now?

Pandarus. Here's a letter come from yond poor girl.

Troilus. Let me read.

Pandarus. A whoreson tisick, a whoreson rascally tisick so
troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this girl;
and what one thing, what another, that I shall
leave you one o' these days: and I have a rheum
in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones
that, unless a man were cursed, I cannot tell what
to think on't. What says she there?

Troilus. You understand me not that tell me so:
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death,
But dare all imminence that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone:
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?
Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd,
Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead:
There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth, and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away:
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay yet. You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you! and, thou great-sized coward,
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates:
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
[Exeunt AENEAS and Trojans]
[As TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other]
side, PANDARUS]

Pandarus. But hear you, hear you!

Troilus. Hence, broker-lackey! ignomy and shame
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name!

Pandarus. A goodly medicine for my aching bones! O world!
world! world! thus is the poor agent despised!
O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set
a-work, and how ill requited! why should our
endeavour be so loved and the performance so loathed?
what verse for it? what instance for it? Let me see:
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;
And being once subdued in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your
painted cloths.
As many as be here of pander's hall,
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall;
Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade,
Some two months hence my will shall here be made:
It should be now, but that my fear is this,
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss:
Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases,
And at that time bequeathe you my diseases.