PROLOGUE.
 Enter PROLOGUE in armour.

Prologue	In Troy there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
	The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed,
	Have to the port of Athens sent their ships
	Fraught with the ministers and instruments
	Of cruel war. Sixty and nine that wore
	Their crownets regal from th' Athenian bay
	Put forth toward Phrygia. and their vow is made
	To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures
	The ravished Helen, Menelaus' queen,
	With wanton Paris sleeps - and that's the quarrel.
	To Tenedos they come,
	And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
	Their warlike freightage. Now on Dardan plains
	The fresh and yet unbruisd Greeks do pitch
	Their brave pavilions. Priam's six-gated city,
	Dardan and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,
	And Antenorides, with massy staples
	And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
	Stir up the sons of Troy.
	Now expectation tickling skittish spirits
	On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,
	Sets all on hazard. And hither am I come,
	A Prologue armed, but not in confidence
	Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited
	In like conditions as our argument,
	To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
	Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,
	Beginning in the middle; starting thence away
	To what may be digested in a play.
	Like, or find fault - do as your pleasures are;
	Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.


                                  ACT 1.

                  Scene 1. Troy. Before Priam's Palace.

                    Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS.

Troilus	Call here my varlet, I'll unarm again.
	Why should I war without the gates 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.

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,
	Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
	And skilless as unpractised 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 needs tarry the grinding.

Troilus	Have I not tarried?

Pandarus	Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.

Troilus	Have I not tarried?

Pandarus	Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the 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 of the 
	oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or 
	you may chance to burn your lips.

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-
	So, traitor, then 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,
	As wedgd with a sigh, would rive in twain
	Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
	I have, as when the sun doth light a storm,
	Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile;
	But sorrow that is couched in seeming gladness
	Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.

Pandarus	And 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-

Troilus	O 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 cheeks her gait, her voice;
	Handlest 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 ploughman. This thou tell'st me,
	As 'true' thou tell'st me, when I say I love her.
	But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm
	Thou layst in every gash that love hath given me
	The knife that made it.

Pandarus	I speak no more than truth.

Troilus	Thou dost not speak so much.

Pandarus	Faith, I'll not meddle in't. 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.

Troilus	Good Pandarus - how now, Pandarus?

Pandarus	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.

Troilus	What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with me?

Pandarus	Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as 
	Helen. And she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on 
	Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not 
	and she were a blackamoor; 'tis all one to me.

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.

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.
												[Exit PANDARUS.
												[Sound alarum.

Troilus	Peace, you ungracious clamours! 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
	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 wand'ring flood,
	Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar
	Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
												[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?

Aeneas	That Paris is returnd 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.
												[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.
												[Exeunt.
