mself! alas, poor Troilus! I would he were himself: well,
the gods are all-sufficient, and time must mend or end. I would he
were himself, and would I were a lady for his sake. I would not answer
for my maidenhead.--No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.

_Cres._ Excuse me.

_Pand._ Pardon me; Troilus is in the bud, 'tis early day with him; you
shall tell me another tale when Troilus is come to bearing; and yet he
will not bear neither, in some sense. No, Hector shall never have his
virtues.

_Cres._ No matter.

_Pand._ Nor his beauty, nor his fashion, nor his wit; he shall have
nothing of him.

_Cres._ They would not become him, his own are better.

_Pand._ How, his own better! you have no judgment, niece; Helen
herself swore, the other day, that Troilus, for a manly brown
complexion,--for so it is, I must confess--not brown neither.

_Cres._ No, but very brown.

_Pand._ Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. Come, I swear to
you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris: nay, I'm sure she
does. She comes me to him the other day, into the bow-window,--and you
know Troilus has not above three or four hairs on his chin,--

_Cres._ That's but a bare commendation.

_Pand._ But to prove to you that Helen loves him, she comes, and puts
me her white hand to his cloven chin.

_Cres._ Has he been fighting then? how came it cloven?

_Pand._ Why, you know it is dimpled. I cannot chuse but laugh, to
think how she tickled his cloven chin. She has a marvellous white
hand, I must needs confess. But let that pass, for I know who has a
whiter. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on it, think
on it.

_Cres._ So I do, uncle.

_Pand._ I'll be sworn it is true; he will weep ye, an' it were a man
born in April. [_A retreat sounded._
Hark, they are returning from the field; shall we stay and see them as
they come by, sweet niece? do, sweet niece Cressida.

_Cres._ For once you shall command me.

_Pand._ Here, here, here is an excellent place; we may see them here
most bravely, and I'll tell you all their names as they pass by; but
mark Troilus above the rest; mark Troilus, he's worth your marking.

AENEAS _passes over the Stage._

_Cres._ Speak not so loud then.

_Pand._ That's AEneas. Is it not a brave man that? he's a swinger, many
a Grecian he has laid with his face upward; but mark Troilus: you
shall see anon.

_Enter_ ANTENOR _passing._

That's An