Act IV, scene IV. Troy. Pandarus’ house.
Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
Cres. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong
As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayments could I give my grief.
My love admits no qualifying dross;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks!
Cres. O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him
Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here!