PROLOGUE N Troy, there lyes the Scene; From Ifles of Greece With wanton Paris fleeps, and that's the Quarrel. And the deep-drawing Barks do there difgarge Now Expectation tickling skittish Spirits, Drammatis Helen, Wife to Menelaus, in Love with Paris. Creffida, Daughter to Calchas, in Love with Trojan and Greek Soldiers, with other Attendants. SCENE Troy and the Grecian Camp. TRO TROILUS AND CRESSID A ACTI. SCENE I SCENE Troy, Enter Pandarus and Troilus. TROILUS.. ALL here my Varlet, I'llunarm again. That find fuch cruel Battel here within Let him to Field, Troilus alas hath none. Pan. Will this Geer ne'er be mended? Troi, The Greeks are ftrong, and skilful to their frength Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant : But I am weaker than a Woman's Tear, Tamer than Sleep, fonder than Ignorance; Ꭲ ; my Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this Fort part, I'll not meddle nor make any farther. He that will have a Cake out of the Wheat, muft needs tarry the Grinding. Troi. Have I not tarried? Pan. Ay, the Grinding; but you must carry 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 must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your Lips. Troi. Patience her felf, what Goddefs e'er the be, Doth leffer bleneh at Sufferance, than I do : At Priam's Royal Table I do fit ; And when fair Creffid comes into my Thoughts, So, Traitor! Pan. Well, When fhe comes, when the is thence She look'd yefternight fairer than ever I saw her look, Troi. I was about to tell thee, when my Heart,; But Sorrow, that is couch'd in feeming Gladnefs, Pan. And her Hair were, not fomewhat darker than Helen's well-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 it but I would fome Body had heard her talk yesterday, as I did: I will not difpraise your Sifter Caffandra's Wit, but Troi. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus They lye ir trench'd. I tell thee, I am mad Her Eyes, her Hair, her Cheek, her Gate, her Voice, Handleft |