Enter Pandarus and Troilus. TROILUS
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. 5 PANDARUS Will this gear ne’er be mended? TROILUS
The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman’s tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, 10
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpracticed infancy. PANDARUS
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 tarry the grinding. 15 TROILUS
Have I not tarried? PANDARUS
Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the
bolting. TROILUSHave I not tarried? PANDARUS
Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the 20
leavening. TROILUS
Still have I tarried. PANDARUS
Ay, to the leavening; but here’s yet in the word
hereafter the kneading, the making of the cake, the
heating the oven, and the baking. Nay, you must stay 25
the cooling too, or you may chance burn your lips. | In front of King Priam's palace in Troy, Troilus calls over his servant to help him take off all his armor. (Get your highlighters out, kids, because armor is a major symbol that pops up all over this play.) While taking off the armor, Troilus tells Pandarus that he's way too distracted by love to fight. Pandarus complains that this monkey business has been dragging on FOR-EV-ER and wonders when it will end. (Hmm. Is he talking about Troilus's crush or the war? Or both?) Troilus keeps on with his "I'm-so-lovesick-it's-making-me-weak" theme until Pandarus says he's had enough of Troilus's whining. He throws up his hands and says he's not going to help him anymore. He essentially tells Troilus that if he wants to have his cake and eat it too, he has to spend a little time making the cake first. Translation: If Troilus wants his dream girl, he's got to do some work. |
TROILUS
Patience herself, what goddess e’er she be,
Doth lesser blench at suff’rance than I do.
At Priam’s royal table do I sit
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts— 30
So, traitor! “When she comes”? When is she
thence? PANDARUS
Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever
I saw her look, or any woman else. TROILUS
I was about to tell thee: when my heart, 35
As wedgèd with a sigh, would rive in twain,
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have, as when the sun doth light a-scorn,
Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile;
But sorrow that is couched in seeming gladness 40
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. PANDARUS
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 45
her, but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday,
as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra’s
wit, but— TROILUS
O, Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus:
When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drowned, 50
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;
Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice; 55
Handiest in thy discourse—O—that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink
Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure
The cygnet’s down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of plowman. This thou tell’st me, 60
As true thou tell’st me, when I say I love her.
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm
Thou lay’st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it. PANDARUS
I speak no more than truth. 65 TROILUS
Thou dost not speak so much. PANDARUS
Faith, I’ll not meddle in it. Let her be as she
is. If she be fair, ’tis the better for her; an she be
not, she has the mends in her own hands. TROILUS
Good Pandarus—how now, Pandarus? 70 PANDARUS
I have had my labor for my travail, ill thought
on of her, and ill thought on of you; gone between
and between, but small thanks for my labor. TROILUS What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with
me? 75 PANDARUS
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 o’ Friday as Helen is on Sunday.
But what care I? I care not an she were a blackamoor;
’tis all one to me. 80 TROILUS
Say I she is not fair? PANDARUS
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. 85 TROILUS
Pandarus— PANDARUS
Not I. TROILUS
Sweet Pandarus— PANDARUS
Pray you speak no more to me. I will leave
all as I found it, and there an end. 90 He exits. | Troilus says he can't stop thinking about "fair Cressid." Every time he sits down at the table to eat, his thoughts turn to her. Pandarus needles Troilus about how smokin' hot Cressida looked the other night...even hotter than Helen, the sex kitten who supposedly caused the Trojan War. Troilus flips out. Pandarus is supposed to be helping him heal his wounded heart, not digging a knife into it by reminding him that Cressida is the cutest girl in Troy. Pandarus rolls his eyes and mutters something about minding his own business from here on out. (Yeah, right.) Besides, he thinks Cressida—who is his niece—should go join her father. He swapped over to the Greek side and is now fighting against the Trojans. In Pandarus's opinion, she's foolish to have stayed behind. Troilus backtracks a little, because he doesn't want Pandarus convincing Cressida to go. Pandarus says, fine. If Troilus will just stop badgering him, he'll leave things as he found them. Then he storms out. Maturely. |
Sound alarum. TROILUS
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. 95
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
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphnes love, 100
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 wand’ring flood,
Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar 105
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark. | An alarm sounds and Troilus, alone on stage, starts yelling at it. He's way too in love with Cressida to bother fighting in some dumb war being fought over stupid old Helen. Next Troilus yells at the gods because Pandarus is supposed to be helping him woo his niece but the old man is seriously high maintenance. Plus, Cressida is playing hard to get. Troilus compares himself to a "merchant" sailing to India for a "pearl" (that would Cressida). |
Alarum. Enter Aeneas. AENEAS
How now, Prince Troilus? Wherefore not afield? TROILUS
Because not there. This woman’s answer sorts,
For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Aeneas, from the field today? 110 AENEAS
That Paris is returnèd home, and hurt. TROILUS
By whom, Aeneas? AENEAS Troilus, by Menelaus. TROILUS
Let Paris bleed. ’Tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gored with Menelaus’ horn. 115 Alarum. AENEAS
Hark what good sport is out of town today! TROILUS
Better at home, if “would I might” were “may.”
But to the sport abroad. Are you bound thither? AENEAS
In all swift haste. TROILUS
Come, go we then together. 120 They exit. | Another alarum (a.k.a. war trumpet) sounds but Troilus stays put. Aeneas shows up to ask why Troilus isn't out fighting (um, ditto?) and they have a juicy gossip session. Apparently, Paris is back from the battlefield with a nasty wound that he got from Menelaus. (Menelaus is the poor shmuck—er, Greek king—who was married to Helen before Paris ran off with her.) Troilus says Paris deserves to bleed and jokes that Menelaus probably gored Paris with his "horn." Brain Snack: In Shakespeare, horns are a common symbol for cuckolds, guys like Menelaus who are cheated on by their wives. Yeah, we figured Shakespeare couldn't get past the play's first scene without cracking a cuckold joke. Aeneas and Troilus run off. |