Obrázky na stránke

Tamer than fleep, fonder than ignorance;
Lefs valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skill-lefs as unpractis'd infancy.

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,
Doth 'not lefs blench at fufferance than I do :
At Priam's royal table I do fit ;

And when fair Creffid comes into my thoughts,
So, traitor! when fhe comes? when is the thence?
Pan. Well, the look'd yefternight fairer than ever I
faw her look, or any woman elfe.

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)
Buried this figh in wrinkle of a smile:
But forrow, that is couch'd in feeming gladnefs,
Is like that mirth fate turns to fudden fadness.

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:


3 leffer

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,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lye 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 gate, her voice;
Handleft in thy difcourfeO that! her hand!
In whofe comparison, all whites are ink
Writing their own reproach, to whofe foft feizure
The cygnet's down is harfh, 'to th' fpirit 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 thus, instead of oil and balm,

Thou lay'ft in every gafh 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 the is, if he be fair, 'tis the better for her; an fhe be not, fhe has the 'mends in her own hands.

[ocr errors]

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

to me.

Troi. Say I, fhe is not fair?

She's a

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.

Troi. Pandarus

Pan. Not I.

Troi. Sweet Pandarus

me; I will leave [Exit Pandarus. [Sound Alarum.

Troi.Peace,you ungracious clamours! peace, rude founds!
Fools on both fides. Helen muft 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 sword:
But Pandarus-O Gods! how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Crefid, but by Pandarus;
And he's as teachy to be woo'd to wooe,
As fhe is ftubborn, chaft, against all fuit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Crefid is, what Pandar, and what we:
Her bed is India, there fhe lyes a pearl;
Between our Ilium, and where she resides,
Let it be call'd the wild and wandring flood,
Our felf the merchant, and this failing Pandar
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.



Enter Æneas.

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.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

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. By whom, Eneas?
Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus.

[ocr errors]

Troi. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a fear to fcorn,
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.


Ane. Hark, what good fport 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 fwift hafte.


Troi. Come, go we then together.



Between the Palace and the City.

Enter Creffida and a Servant, named Alexander.


HO were thofe went by.?
Ser. Queen Hecuba and Helen.


Cre. And whither go they?
Ser. Up to th' eastern tower,
Whose height commands as fubject all the vale,
To fee the fight. Hector, whofe patience
Is, as the virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd:
He chid Andromache, and ftruck his armorer,
And like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the fun rofe, he was 'harnefs-dight,
And to the field goes he; where ev'ry flower
Did as a prophet weep what it forefaw,
In Hellor's wrath.

Cre. What was his caufe of anger?

Ser. The noife goes thus; There is among the Greeks,
A Lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector,
They call him Ajax.

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.



Enter Pandarus.

Cre. Who comes here?

Ser. Madam, your uncle Pandarus:
Cre. Hector's a gallant man.
Ser. As may be in the world, Lady.
Pan. What's that? what's that?

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.
Pan. E'en fo; Hector was ftirring early.


(a) Throughout this Play the name of Ilium feems to be given only to the palace of Priam. 7 and no ufe; or purblind




« PredošláPokračovať »