That's true; make no question of that. 'Two and fifty
hairs,' quoth he 'and one white. That white hair is my father,
and all the rest are his sons.' 'Jupiter!' quoth she 'which of
these hairs is Paris my husband?' 'The forked one,' quoth he,
'pluck't out and give it him.' But there was such laughing! and
Helen so blush'd, and Paris so chaf'd; and all the rest so
laugh'd that it pass'd.

CRESSIDA.
So let it now; for it has been a great while going by.

PANDARUS.
Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on't.

CRESSIDA.
So I do.

PANDARUS.
I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, and 'twere a
man born in April.

CRESSIDA.
And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle
against May.

[Sound a retreat.]

PANDARUS.
Hark! they are coming from the field. Shall we stand up
here and see them as they pass toward Ilium? Good niece, do,