_Troil._ Oh Pandarus, when I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love, thou answer'st she is fair; Praisest her eyes, her stature, and her wit; But praising thus, instead of oil and balm, Thou lay'st, in every wound her love has given me, The sword that made it.
_Pand._ Faith, I'll speak no more of her, let her be as she is; if she be a beauty, 'tis the better for her; an' she be not, she has the mends in her own hands, for Pandarus.
_Troil._ In spite of me, thou wilt mistake my meaning.
_Pand._ I have had but my labour for my pains; ill thought on of her, and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, and am ground in the mill-stones for my labour.
_Troil._ What, art thou angry, Pandarus, with thy friend?
_Pand._ Because she's my niece, therefore she's not so fair as Helen; an' she were not my niece, show me such another piece of woman's flesh: take her limb by limb: I say no more, but if Paris had seen her first, Menelaus had been no cuckold: but what care I if she were a blackamoor? what am I the better for her face?
_Pand._ I care not if you did; she's a fool to stay behind her father Calchas: let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her. For my part, I am resolute, I'll meddle no more in your affairs.
_Pand._ Pray speak no more on't; I'll not burn my fingers in another body's business; I'll leave it as I found it, and there's an end. [_Exit._
_Troil._ O gods, how do you torture me! I cannot come to Cressida but by him, And he's as peevish to be wooed to woo, As she is to be won.
_Æneas._ How now, prince Troilus; why not in the battle?
_Troil._ Because not there. This woman's answer suits me, For womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?
_Æn._ By Menelaus. Hark what good sport [_Alarm within._ Is out of town to-day! When I hear such music, I cannot hold from dancing.
_Troil._ I'll make one, And try to lose an anxious thought or two In heat of action. Thus, coward-like, from love to war I run, Seek the less dangers, and the greater shun. [_Exit_ TROIL.
_Cres._ My lord Æneas, who were those went by? I mean the ladies.
_Æn._ Up to the western tower, Whose height commands, as subject, all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience Is fixed like that of heaven, to-day was moved; He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer, And, as there were good husbandry in war. Before the sun was up he went to field; Your pardon, lady, that's my business too. [_Exit_ ÆNEAS.