irth, stifled this still-born sigh,
And forced my face into a painful smile.

_Pand._ I measured her with my girdle yesterday; she's not half a yard
about the waist, but so taper a shape did I never see; but when I had
her in my arms, Lord, thought I,--and by my troth I could not forbear
sighing,--If prince Troilus had her at this advantage and I were
holding of the door!--An she were a thought taller,--but as she is,
she wants not an inch of Helen neither; but there's no more comparison
between the women--there was wit, there was a sweet tongue! How her
words melted in her mouth! Mercury would have been glad to have such a
tongue in his mouth, I warrant him. I would somebody had heard her
talk yesterday, as I did.

_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._ I give her but her due.

_Troil._ Thou giv'st her not so much.

_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?

_Troil._ Said I she was not beautiful?

_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.

_Troil._ But hear me!

_Pand._ Not I.

_Troil._ Dear Pandarus--

_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 peevi