_Troil._ Still thou flatter'st me; but pr'ythee flatter still; for I would hope; I would not wake out of my pleasing dream. Oh hope, how sweet thou art! but to hope always, and have no effect of what we hope!
_Pand._ Oh faint heart, faint heart! well, there's much good matter in these old proverbs! No, she'll not come, I warrant her; she has no blood of mine in her, not so much as will fill a flea. But if she does not come, and come, and come with a swing into your arms--I say no more, but she has renounced all grace, and there's an end.
_Troil._ I will believe thee: go then, but be sure.
_Pand._ No, you would not have me go; you are indifferent--shall I go, say you? speak the word then:--yet I care not: you may stand in your own light, and lose a sweet young lady's heart--well, I shall not go then.
_Pand._ Do I so, do I so? do I torture you indeed? well, I will go.
_Pand._ I go immediately, directly, in a twinkling, with a thought: yet you think a man never does enough for you; I have been labouring in your business like any moyle. I was with prince Paris this morning, to make your excuse at night for not supping at court; and I found him--faith, how do you think I found him? it does my heart good to think how I found him: yet you think a man never does enough for you.
_Troil._ Will you go then?--What's this to Cressida?
_Pand._ Why, you will not hear a man! what's this to Cressida? Why, I found him a-bed, a-bed with Helena, by my troth: 'Tis a sweet queen, a sweet queen; a very sweet queen,--but she's nothing to my cousin Cressida; she's a blowse, a gipsy, a tawny moor to my cousin Cressida; and she lay with one white arm underneath the whoreson's neck: Oh such a white, lilly-white, round, plump arm as it was--and you must know it was stripped up to the elbows; and she did so kiss him, and so huggle him!--as who should say--
_Troil._ But still thou stayest:--what's this to Cressida?
_Pand._ Why, I made your excuse to your brother Paris; that I think's to Cressida:--but such an arm, such a hand, such taper fingers! t'other hand was under the bed-cloaths; that I saw not, I confess; that hand I saw not.
_Pand._ Nay, I was tortured too; old as I am, I was tortured too: but for all that, I could make a shift, to make him, to make your excuse, to make your father--by Jove, when I think of that hand, I am so ravished, that I know not what I say: I was tortured too. [TROILUS _turns away discontented._ Well, I go, I go; I fetch her, I bring her, I conduct her; not come quotha, and I her uncle! [_Exit_ PANDARUS.