part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He, that will have a cake out of the wheat, muft tarry the grinding. Troi. 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.

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 goddefs e'er the be, Doth leffer' blench at fufferance 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 fhe thence? Pan. Well, fhe look'd yefter-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 fhould 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 fomewhat darker than Helen's, (well, go to) there were no more comparison 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 yesterday, as I did. I will not difpraise your fifter Caffandra's wit: but

Troi. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd,

blench]-fhrink,

Reply

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'st in the open ulcer of my heart

Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;
Handlest, in thy discourse, that her hand,

In whose comparison all whites are ink,

Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harfh, " in fpirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'ft mẹ,
As true thou tell'ft me, when I fay—I love her;
But, faying thus, instead of oil and balm,

Thou lay'ft in every gash that love hath 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 she is: if fhe 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 small thanks for my labour.

Troi. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me? Pan. Because she 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 funday. 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;

in fpirit of fenfe]-in the judgment of a truly refined sense, of the moft exquifite fenfibility-and Spirit of fenfe.

fbe bas the mends]-the means of improving her complexion, the power of amending it by cofmetics.

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, fpeak 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 ftarv'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 he 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:

Р

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.

Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield? Troi. Because not there; This woman's answer forts, For womanifh it is to be from thence.

What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?

Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

Leachy]-touchy, peevish.

Pour Ilium-Priam's palace.

Troi. By whom, Æneas?

Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a fcar to fcorn;

Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.

[Alarum.

Ene. Hark! what good sport is out of town to-day! Troi. Better at home, if would I might, were may.— But, to the sport abroad ;-Are you bound thither? Ene. In all swift hafte.

Troi. Come, go we then together.

SCENE

A Street.

[Exeunt.

II.

Enter Creffida, and Alexander her Servant.

Cre. Who were those went by?

Serv. Queen Hecuba, and Helen.

Cre. And whither go they?

Serv. Up to the eastern tower,

Whose height commands as fubject all the vale,
To fee the battle. Hector, whofe patience
Is, as the virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd:
He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the fun rofe, he was harness'd light,
And to the field goes he; where every flower
Did, as a prophet, weep what it forefaw.

In Hector's wrath.

Cre. What was his caufe of anger?

Serv. The noife goes, this: There is among the Greeks A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;

They call him, Ajax.

as the virtue]-as the Goddess herself.
barnefs'd light,]-equipped, and ready for action.

Cre.

Cre. Good; And what of him?

Serv. They fay he is a very man per fe, And ftands alone.

Cre. So do all men; unless they are drunk, fick, or have no legs.

t

Serv. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beafts 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 crowded humours, that his valour is " crushed 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 ftain 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 no ufe; or purblinded Argus, all eyes and no fight.

W

Cre. But how fhould this man, that makes me fmile, make Hector angry?

X

Serv. They fay, he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battle, and ftruck him down; the difdain and shame whereof hath ever fince kept Hector fafting and waking,

Enter Pandarus.

Cre. Who comes here?

Serv. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Cre. Hector's a gallant man.

Serv. As may be in the world, lady.

Pan. What's that? what's that?

• a very man per fe,]—a very A per fe—an extraordinary personage.

t

particular additions ;]-diftinguishing qualities,

crubed-confufed, mingled with, incorporated.

"Crush him together"- CYMBELINE, A& I. S. 1. the bair:]-the grain. Vol. I. p. 206.

* cop'd]-encountered.

1 Gent.

Cre.