Page 2765 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

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 Daphne’s 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 wandering flood,

Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar [105]
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

Alarum. Enter Aeneas.

AENEAS
How now, Prince Troilus, wherefore not a-field?

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.