Puslapio vaizdai
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Cre. He is not Hector.

Pan. Himfelf? no, he's not himfelf; would, he were himfelf! 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.

Cre. Excufe me.
Pan. He is elder.

Cre. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan. Th' other's not come to't; you fhall tell me another tale, when th' other's come to't: Hector fhall not have his wit this year.

Cre. He fhall not need it, if he have his own.

Pan. Nor his Qualities.

Cre. No matter.

Pan. Nor his beauty.

Cre. 'Twou'd not become him, his own's better.

Pan. You have no judgment, Neice; Helen her felf fwore th' other day, that Troilus for a brown favour, (for fo 'tis, I must confefs) not brown neither

Cre. No, but brown.

Pan. Faith, to fay truth, brown and not brown.

Cre. To fay the truth, true and not true.
Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris.
Cre. Why, Paris hath colour enough.

Pan. So he has.

Cre. Then Troilus fhould have too much; if she prais'd him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lieve Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose.

Pan. I fwear to you, I think, Helen loves him better than Paris.

Cre. Then the's a merry Greek, indeed.

Pan. Nay, I am fure, fhe does. She came to him th❜ other day into the compass-window; and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin.

Cre. Indeed, a tapfter's arithmetick may foon bring his particulars therein to a total.

Pan.

Pan. Why, he is very young; and yet will he within three pound lift as much as his brother Hector.

Cre. Is he fo young a man, and fo old a lifter? Pan. But to prove to you that Helen loves him, fhe came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin. Cre. Juno, have mercy! how came it cloven?

Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled. I think, his fmiling becomes him better, than any man in all Phrygia. Cre. Oh, he fmiles valiantly.

Pan. Does he not?

Cre. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.

Pan. Why, go to then-but to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus,

Cre. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it fo.

Pan. Troilus? why he esteems her no more than I efteem an addle egg.

Cre. If you love an addle egg, as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i'th' fhell.

Pan. I cannot chufe but laugh to think how fhe tickled his chin; indeed, fhe has a marvellous white hand, I muft needs confefs.

Cre. Without the Rack.

Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.

Cre. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.

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Pan. But there was fuch laughing. Queen Hecuba laught, that her eyes run o'er.

Cre. With milftones.

Pan. And Caffandra laught.

Cre. But there was more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes; did her eyes run o'er too?

Pan. And Hector laught.

Cre. At what was all this laughing?

Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus's chin.

Cre. An't had been a green hair, I fhould have laught too.

Pan. They laught not fo much at the hair, as at his pretty answer.

Cre

Cre. What was his answer?

Pan. Quoth the, here's but one and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.

Cre. This is her question.

Pan. That's true, make no queftion of that: one and fifty hairs, (8) quoth he, and one white; that white hair is my father, and all the reft are his fons. Jupiter! quoth fhe, which of these hairs is Paris, my husband? the forked one, quoth he, pluck it out and give it him : but there was such laughing, and Helen fo blufh'd, and Paris fo chaft, and all the rest fo laught, that it past. Cre. So let it now, for it has been a great while going by.

Pan. Well, coufin, I told you a thing Yesterday; think on't.

Cre. So I do.

Pan. I'll be fworn, 'tis true; he will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April. [Sound a retreat. Cre. And I'll fpring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May.

Pan. Hark, they are coming from the field; fhall we ftand up here, and fee them, as they pass towards Ilium? (9) good neice, do; fweet neice Cressida.

Cre. At your pleasure.

Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place, here we may see most bravely; I'll tell you them all by their names, as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest.

(8) Two and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white; that white Hair is my Father, and all the reft are his Sons.] The Copyifts must have err'd here in the Number; and I have ventur'd to fubftitute one and fifty, I think, with some Certainty. How elfe can the Number make out Priam, and his fifty Sons?

(9) Hark, they are coming from the field; fhall we ftand up here and fee them, as they pass towards Ilium ?] This Conduct of the Poet, in making Pandarus decypher the Warriors as they pass, seems an Imitatation of Homer's Helen on the Walls, where the fhews the Greeks to Priam. This Incident was borrow'd by Euripides, in his Phanissa ; and again copied by Statius, in the 9th Book of his Thebais, where he makes Phorbas fhew to Antigone the Chiefs of the Theban Army.

VOL. VII.

B

Æneas

Eneas paffes over the stage.

Cre. Speak not fo loud.

Pan. That's Eneas; is not that a brave man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you; but mark Troilus, you fhall fee anon.

Cre. Who's that?

Antenor paffes over the stage.

Pan. That's Antenor, he has a fhrewd wit, I can tell you, and he's a man good enough; he's one o'th' foundeft judgment in Troy whofoever, and a proper man of perfon; when comes Troilus? I'll fhew you Troilus anon ; if he fee me, you shall see him nod at me.

Cre. Will he give you the nod?

Pan. You fhall fee.

Cre. If he do, the rich fhall have more.

Hector paffes over.

Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that: there's a fellow! go thy way, Hector; there's a brave man, neice: O brave Hector! look, how he looks! there's a countenance! is't not a brave man?

Cre. O brave man!

Pan. Is he not? 'It does a man's heart good,-look you, what hacks are on his helmet, look you yonder, do you fee? look you there! there's no jefting; there's laying on, take't off who will, as they fay, there be hacks. Cre. Be those with fwords?

Paris paffes over.

Pan. Swords, any thing, he cares not, an the devil come to him, it's all one; by godslid, it does one's heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris : look ye yonder, neice, is't not a gallant man too, is't not? why, this is brave now: who faid, he came home hurt to day? he's not hurt; why, this will do Helen's heart good now, ha? would, I could fee Troilus now; you fhall fee Troilus anon.

Cre. Who's that?

Helenus

Helenus paffes over.

Pan. That's Helenus. I marvel, where Troilus is: that's Helenus-I think, he went not forth to day; that's Helenus.

Cre. Can Helenus fight, uncle?

Pan. Helenus, no yes, he'll fight indifferent wellI marvel, where Troilus is? hark, do you not hear the people cry Troilus? Helenus is a priest.

Gre. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?

Troilus paffes over.

Pan. Where! yonder? that's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus! there's a man, neice— -hem-brave Troilus! the

prince of chivalry!

Cre. Peace, for fhame, peace.

Pan. Mark him, note him: O brave Troilus! look well upon him, neice, look you how his fword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than Hector's, and how he looks, and how he goes! O admirable youth! he ne'er faw three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way; had I a fifter were a Grace, or a daughter a Goddefs, he fhould take his choice. O admirable man! Paris?-Paris is dirt to him, and I warrant Helen to change would give money to boot.

Enter common Soldiers.

Cre. Here come more.

Pan. Affes, fools, dolts, chaff and bran, chaff and bran; porridge after meat. I could live and dye i'th' eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone; crows and daws, crows and daws. I had rather be fuch a man as Troilus, than Agamemnon and all Greece. Cre. There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.

Pan. Achilles? a dray-man, a porter, a very camel.
Cre. Well, well.

Pan. Well, well-why, have you any difcretion? have you any eyes? do you know, what a man is? is not birth, beauty, good fhape, difcourfe, manhood, learning,

B 2

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