Troilus and Cressida | Page 4

my part, I'll not
meddle nor make no further. He that will have a cake out of the wheat
must 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 suff'rance 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 she is thence?

PANDARUS. Well, she look'd 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
blackamoor; '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.
[Exit PANDARUS. An alarum.]
TROILUS. Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds! Fools
on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, When with your blood you
daily paint her thus. I cannot fight upon this argument; It is too starv'd a
subject for my sword. But Pandarus, O gods! how do you plague me! I
cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar; And he's as tetchy to be woo'd
to woo As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. Tell me, Apollo, for
thy Daphne's love, What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? Her
bed is India; there she lies, a pearl; Between our Ilium and where she
resides Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood; Ourself the
merchant, and this sailing Pandar Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and
our bark.
[Alarum. Enter AENEAS.]
AENEAS. How now, Prince Troilus! Wherefore not afield?
TROILUS. Because not there. This woman's answer sorts, For
womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Aeneas, from the field
to-day?
AENEAS.