Chapter: ACT I. 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 walls of Troy
    That find such cruel battle here within?
    Each Troyan 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 unpractis'd 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 she is thence.
  PANDARUS. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw her
    look, or any woman else.
  TROILUS. I was about to tell thee: when my heart,
    As wedged 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 couch'd in seeming gladness
    Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
  PANDARUS. 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 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 drown'd,
    Reply not in how many fathoms deep
    They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad
    In Cressid's love. Thou answer'st 'She is fair'-
    Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart-
    Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, 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 lay'st 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 it. 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!
  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. An she were not kin to me, she would be as fair a Friday
    as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an 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. 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 starv'd 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 woo'd 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 call'd 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 to-day?
  AENEAS. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
  TROILUS. By whom, Aeneas?
  AENEAS. Troilus, by Menelaus.
  TROILUS. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn;
    Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn.
[Alarum]
  AENEAS. Hark what good sport is out of town to-day!
  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

 In front of King Priam's palace in Troy, a young Trojan prince named Troilus calls his servant over to help him take off all his armor. Troilus tells a guy named Pandarus that he's way too lovesick to fight. He asks, "Why should I war without the walls of Troy, / That find such cruel battle here within." Pandarus complains that this monkey business has been dragging on FOR-E-VER and wonders when it will end. Troilus says he's not fit for battle against the "strong" Greeks because love has turned him into a mushy wimp. He's "weaker than a woman's tear," as timid as a "virgin in the night," and, well, you get the idea. Pandarus has had just about enough of Troilus's whining. He throws up his hands and says he's not going to help him anymore. He's all, "You know, Troilus, if you want to have your cake and eat it too, you have to make the cake first." Translation: If Troilus wants his dream girl, he's got to do some work. Troilus says he can't stop thinking about "fair Cressid." Every time he sits down at the table to eat, his thoughts turn to her. Pandarus needles Troilus about how smokin' hot Cressida looked the other night... even hotter than Helen, the sex kitten who supposedly caused the Trojan War. Troilus flips out and is all "Dude, Pandarus, you're supposed to help me heal my wounded heart, not dig your knife into it by reminding me that Cressida is the cutest girl in Troy." Pandarus rolls his eyes and mutters something about minding his own business from here on out. But Troilus backtracks a little, because he totally needs Pandarus's help. Next, we find out that Cressida's dad has betrayed the Trojans and gone over to the Greek side. Pandarus says he hopes Cressida goes with her dad because that'll teach Troilus a lesson. And then he storms out. Maturely. Alone on stage, Troilus hears a trumpet call to arms and flips out. He's way too in love with Cressida to bother fighting in some dumb war being fought over stupid old Helen. Next Troilus yells at the gods because Pandarus is supposed to be helping him woo his niece but the old man is seriously high maintenance and acts like he's the one who wants to "be woo'd." Plus, Cressida is "stubborn-chaste against all suit." Translation: Cressida's playing hard to get. Troilus compares himself to a "merchant" sailing to India for a "pearl" . Another alarum sounds but Troilus stays put. Aeneas shows up to ask why Troilus isn't out fighting and they have a juicy gossip session. Apparently, Paris is back from the battlefield with a nasty wound that he got from Menelaus. Troilus says Paris deserves to bleed and jokes that Menelaus probably gored Paris with his "horn." Brain Snack: In Shakespeare, horns are a common symbol for cuckolds, guys like Menelaus who are cheated on by their wives. Yeah, we figured Shakespeare couldn't get past the play's first scene without cracking a cuckold joke. Aeneas and Troilus run off.

