Troilus and Cressida | Page 5

That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
TROILUS. By whom, Aeneas?
AENEAS. Troilus, by Menelaus.
TROILUS. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with
Menelaus' horn.
[Alarum.]
AENEAS. Hark what good sport is out of town to-day!
TROILUS. Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.' But to the
sport abroad. Are you bound thither?
AENEAS. In all swift haste.
TROILUS. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt.]

ACT I.
SCENE 2. Troy. A street
[Enter CRESSIDA and her man ALEXANDER.]
CRESSIDA. Who were those went by?
ALEXANDER. Queen Hecuba and Helen.
CRESSIDA. And whither go they?
ALEXANDER. Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as
subject all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience Is as a
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 sun
rose he was harness'd light, And to the field goes he; where every
flower Did as a prophet weep what it foresaw In Hector's wrath.
CRESSIDA. What was his cause of anger?
ALEXANDER. The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks A lord
of Troyan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him Ajax.
CRESSIDA. Good; and what of him?
ALEXANDER. They say he is a very man per se, And stands alone.
CRESSIDA. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no
legs.
ALEXANDER. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their
particular additions: he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as the bear, slow
as the elephant--a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that
his valour is crush'd into folly, his folly sauced with discretion. There is
no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an
attaint but he carries some stain of it; he is melancholy without cause
and merry against the hair; he hath the joints of every thing; but
everything so out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and
no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.
CRESSIDA. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make
Hector angry?
ALEXANDER. They say he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battle and
struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept
Hector fasting and waking.
[Enter PANDARUS.]
CRESSIDA. Who comes here?
ALEXANDER. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
CRESSIDA. Hector's a gallant man.

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
arm'd and gone ere you came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she?
CRESSIDA. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up.
PANDARUS. E'en 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 today, 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.
ANDARUS. 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,