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Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.
Cres. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison.
Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man, if you see him?
Cres. Ay; if I ever saw him before, and knew him.
Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.
Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector.
Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees.
Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself.
Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he were,
Cres. So he is.
Pan. ——'Condition, I had gone bare-foot to India.
Cres. He is not Hector.
Pan. 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.
Cres. Excuse me.
Pan. The other's not come to't; you shall tell me another tale, when the other's come to't. Hector shall not have his wit this year.
Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own. Pan. Nor his qualities;
Cres. No matter.
Pan. You have no judgment, niece: Helen herself swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour, (for so 'tis, I must confess,)-Not brown neither.
Cres. No, but brown. · Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. Cres. To say the truth, tņue and not true. Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris. Cres. Why, Paris hath colour enough. Pan. So he has.
Cres. Then, Troilus should 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 lief, Helen’s golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose.
Pan. I swear to you, I think, Helen loves him better than Paris.
Cres. Then she's a merry Greek, indeed.
Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him the other day into the compass'd window, — and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin.
Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetick may soon bring his particulars therein to a total.
Pan. Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector.
Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter? Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him ;—she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin,
Cres. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven?
Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think, his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.
Cres. O, he smiles valiantly.
Pan. Why, go to then:—But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus,
Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so.
Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.
Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i'the shell.
Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin ;- Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess.
Cres. Without the rack.
Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.
Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.
Pan. But, there was such laughing ;-Queen Hecuba laugh`d, that her eyes ran o'er.
Cres. With mill-stones.
Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes;-Did her eyes run o'er too?
Pan. And Hector laugh'd.
Cres. At what was all this laughing?
Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin.
Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have laugh'd too.
Pan. They laugh'd not so much at the hair, as at his pretty answer.
Cres. What was his answer?
Pan, Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.
Cres. This is her question.
Pan. That's true; make no question of that. One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white: That white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons. Jupiter! quoth she, 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 so blush'd, and Paris so chafed, and all the rest so laugh’d, that it pass’d.
Cres. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by.
Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on't.
Cres. So I do.
Pan. I'll be sworn, 'tis true; he will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April.
Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May. [A Retreat sounded.
Pan. Hark, they are coming from the field: Shall we stand up here, and see them, as they pass toward Ilium? good niece, do; sweet niece Cressida.
Cres. 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.
Æneas passes over the stage.
Pan. That's Æneas; Is not that a brave man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you; But mark Troilus; you shall see anon.
Cres. Who's that?
Antenor passes over. Pan. That's Antenor; he has a shrewd wit, I can tell you; and he's a man good enough: he's one o'the soundest judgments in Troy, whosoever, and a proper man of person :-When comes Troilus?I'll show you Troilus anon; if he see me, you shall see him nod at me.
Cres. Will he give you the nod?
Hector passes over. Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; There's a fellow!-Go thy way, Hector;—There's a brave man, niece.–O brave Hector!-Look, how he looks! there's a countenance: Is't not a brave man?
Cres. O, a brave man!