Page 2763 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

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 kins-
woman; [45] 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, [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’,
Pour’st in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice; [55]
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, [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’t. 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]