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Enter Pandarus and Troilus.
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Troy. Call here my varlet, I’ll unarm again,
Why should I war without the walls of Troy:
That find such cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan that is master of his heart,
Let him to field, Troilus alas, hath none. [40] |
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CAll hi:R mI va:Rlet, @I‘ll Gna:Rm agen,
Hw@I should @ wAr with@Ut the wAlls @v Tr@I :
Th@t f@Ind s@ch cruel battle hi:R within?
e:ch Tro:jan th@t is ma:steR @v Iz a:Rt,
Let im t@ fi:ld, Tr@Ilus ala:s, ath no:ne.
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| Pan. Will this gear ne’er be mended? |
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Will this gi:R nE:R bI mended?
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Troy. The Greeks are strong and skillful to their strength
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant,
But I am weaker then a woman’s tear;
Tamer then sleep; fonder then ignorance,
Less valiant then the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpractised infancy: |
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The Gre:ks @R strQng @n skillful t@ th@R strength
Fi:Rce t@ th@R skill, @n t@ th@R fi:RcenIss valy@nt,
B@t @I @m we:keR th@n a wo:man’s ti:R;
TE:meR than sle:p; fQndeR th@n ignoRance,
Less valy@nt th@n the v6Rgin in the n@Ight,
@n skillIss as Gnpractised infanc@I :
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| Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part I’ll not meddle nor make no farther; he that will have a cake out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding. [50] |
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Well, @Iv to:ld y@ nQf @ this; f@R m@I pa:Rt @‘ll nQt
meddle no:R mE:ke no: fa:RtheR; he: that @l have @ cE:ke @Ut @ the hwe:t m@st ne:ds taR@I the gr@Indin.
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| Troy. Have I not tarried? |
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@v @I nQt taR@Id?
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| Pan. Ay the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting. |
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@I the gr@Indin; b@t y@ m@s taR@I the bo:ltin.
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| Troy. Have I not tarried? |
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@v @I nQt taR@Id?
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| Pan. Ay the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening. |
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@I the bo:ltin; b@t y@ m@s taR@I the levnin.
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| Troy. Still have I tarried. |
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Still @v @ tar@Id.
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| Pan. 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. |
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@I, t@ the levnin, b@t hi:Re’s yIt in the wARd hi:Ra:teR,
the kne:din, the mE:kin @v the cE:ke, the he:tin @v the
o:ven, @n the bE:kin, nE: y@ m@st stE:y the coolin too, o:R
y@ mEy cha:nce to b6Rn y@R lips.
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Troy. Patience herself, what goddess e’er she be,
Doth lesser blench at sufferance 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 is she thence? |
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PE:sIence eRself, hwAt gQddIss E:R shI be:,
D@th lesseR blench @t sGffR@nce th@n @I do :
@t Pr@Iam’s r@Ial tE:ble do @ sit
@n hwen fE:R Cressid cGmes into mI thO:ghts,
So: trE:t@R, hwen shI cGmes, hwen is shI thence?
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| Pan. Well she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. |
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Well shI looked yIsteRn@Ight fE:ReR th@n E:R @ saw @R look,
@R An@I wo:man else.
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| Troy. I was about to tell thee, |
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@ w@s ab@Ut t@ tell thI,
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| Pan. 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——- |
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@n @R hE:R weRe nat sGmew@t da:RkeR th@n Helen’s – well
go: to – th@R w@R no: mo:Re cGmpaRison betwe:n the women! b@t f@R m@I pa:Rt she is mI kinswo:man, @ would nQt @z thEy t6Rm it prE:se @R, but @ would sGmeb@d@I @d h6Rd @R tO:lk yIsteRdE:y @z @I did; @ will nQt disprE:se y@R sisteR
Cassandra’s wit, bGt——-
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Troy. Oh Pandarus I tell thee Pandarus,
When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drowned
Reply not in how many fathoms deep,
They lie indrenched; 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;
But saying thus instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay’st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it. |
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O: Pandarus @ tell thI Pandarus,
hwen @I do tell thI thE:Re mI ho:pes l@I dr@Uned
Repl@I nQt in h@U mAn@I fadoms de:p,
They l@I indrenched; @ tell thI @I am mad
In Cressid’s lGve? th@U a:nsweRst she: is fE:R,
Po:Rst in the o:pen GlceR of mI ha:Rt :
@R @Iyes, @R hE:R, @R che:k, @R gE:t, @R v@Ice;
B@t sE:yin thGs instead @v @Il @n ba:lm,
Th@U lE:yst in evr@I gash that lGve @th givn mI
The kn@Ife th@t mE:de it.
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| Pan. I speak no more than truth. |
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@ spe:k no: mo:Re th@n truth.
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| Troy. Thou dost not speak so much. |
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Th@U d@st nQt spe:k s@ mGch.
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| Pan. Faith I’ll not meddle in it, let her be as she is, if she be fair, ’tis the better for her, and she be not, she has the mends in her own hands. |
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FE:th @‘ll nQt meddle int, let @R be as shI is, if shI bI fE:R,
tis the betteR fo:R @R, @n shI bI nQt, shI has the mends in
@R o:n hands.
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| Troy. Good Pandarus, how now Pandarus? |
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Good Pandarus, h@U n@U Pandarus?
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| Pan. 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. |
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@I @v had mI lE:bouR f@R mI trav@l, ill thO:ght on @v heR,
@nd ill thO:ght on @v you, gQne betwe:n @n betwe:n, b@t
smAll thanks f@R mI lE:bouR.
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| Troy. What art thou angry Pandarus? what with me? |
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HwAt aRt th@U angr@I Pandarus? hwAt with me:?
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| Pan. 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? |
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BecQse shI‘s kin t@ me:, thE:Refo:Re shI‘s nQt s@ fE:R as Helen, an shI weRe nQt kin t@ me:, shI would be: @z fE:R on Fr@IdE:y, @z Helen is on SGndE:y, b@t hwAt cE:Re @I?
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| Troy. Say I she is not fair? |
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SE:y @I shI is nQt fE:R?
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| Pan. 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’th’matter. |
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@ do nQt cE:Re hwE:R y@ do @R no:, she:’s a fUl t@ stE:y
bIh@Ind @R fætheR, let @R t@ the Gre:ks, @n so: @‘ll tell @R
the nex t@Ime @ se: @R; f@R m@I pa:Rt @‘ll meddle no:R mE:ke no: mo:Re ith matteR.
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| Troy. Pandarus. |
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Pandarus.
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| Pan. Not I. |
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NQt @I.
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| Troy. Sweet Pandarus. |
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Swe:t Pandarus.
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| Pan. Pray you speak no more to me I will leave all as I found it and there an end. Exit.
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PrE:y y@ spe:k no: mo:Re t@ mI @ will le:ve All as @ f@Und it
@n thE:Re an end.
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Sound alarum.
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Troy. Peace you ungracious clamors, 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 starved 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 wooed to woo, [130]
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 called the wild and wandering flood:
Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark.
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Pe:ce yGngrE:sIous clamouRs, pe:ce rude s@Unds,
FUls on bo:th s@Ides, Helen must ne:ds bI fE:R,
hwen with y@R blGd y@ dE:l@I pE:nt @R thGs,
@ cannot f@Ight upQn this a:RgIment :
It is too sta:Rved a sGbjIct fo:R mI swo:Rd,
But Pandarus : O: gQds! h@U do y@ plE:gue mI
@ cannot cGme t@ Cressid bGt bI PandaR,
@nd he:’s as tetch@I t@ be wooed t@ woo,
As she: is stGbboRn-chast, agenst All syuit.
Tell me: ApQllo: fo:R th@I Daphne:’s lGve,
HwAt Cressid is, hwAt PandaR, @nd hwAt we:
HeR bed is Indya thE:Re shI l@Is, a p6Rl,
Betwe:n @UR Ilyum, and hwE:Re she: rIs@Ides
Let it bI cAlled the w@Ild @n wAnderin flGd :
@URself the m6Rchant, @n this sE:lin PandaR,
@UR d@Ubtful ho:pe, @UR cQnv@I and @UR ba:Rk.
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Alarum. Enter Aeneas.
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Aene. How now Prince Troilus, wherefore not afield. [140]
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H@U n@U Prince Tr@Ilus, hwE:Refo:Re nQt afe:ld.
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Troy. Because not there; this woman’s answer sorts,
For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news Aeneas from the field today? |
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BecQse nQt thE:Re; this wo:man’s a:nsweR so:Rts,
F@R wo:manish it is to be: fr@m thence.
HwAt news Aene:as frQm the fe:ld t@dE:y?
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Aene. That Paris is returned home and hurt.
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Th@t Paris is ret6RnId ho:me @nd h6Rt.
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Troy. By whom Aeneas?
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B@I whom Aene:as?
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Aene. Troilus, by Menelaus.
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Tr@Ilus, b@I MenelE:us.
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Troy. Let Paris bleed, tis but a scar to scorn,
Paris is gored with Menelaus’ horn. Alarum. |
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Let Paris ble:d, tis bGt a sca:R t@ sco:Rn,
Paris is go:Red with MenelE:us ho:Rn.
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Aene. Hark what good sport is out of town today. [150]
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Ha:Rk hwAt good spo:Rt is @Ut @v t@Un t@dE:y.
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Troy. Better at home, if “would I might” were “may:”
But to the sport abroad; are you bound thither? |
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BetteR at ho:me, if “would @I m@Ight” weRe “mE:y” :
But to the spo:Rt abrO:d; @Re you b@Und thI@R?
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Aene. In all swift haste.
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In All swift hast.
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Troy. Come go we then together.
Exeunt.
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CGme go: wI then togI@R.
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