Troilus and Cressida

by William Shakespeare

CRESSIDA.
Why, Paris hath colour enough.

PANDARUS.
So he has.

CRESSIDA.
Then Troilus should have too much. If she prais’d him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief Helen’s golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose.

PANDARUS.
I swear to you I think Helen loves him better than Paris.

CRESSIDA.
Then she’s a merry Greek indeed.

PANDARUS.
Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th’other day into the compass’d window—and you know he has not past three or four hairs on his chin—

CRESSIDA.
Indeed a tapster’s arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total.

PANDARUS.
Why, he is very young, and yet will he within three pound lift as much as his brother Hector.

CRESSIDA.
Is he so young a man and so old a lifter?

PANDARUS.
But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin—