_Pand._ Marry is he; there's no fear in that, I hope: the fear were, if he were old and feeble. _Cress._ And I a woman. _Pand._ No fear yet; thou art a woman, and he's a man; put them together, put them together. _Cress._ And if I should be frail-- _Pand._ There's all my fear, that thou art not frail: thou should'st be frail, all flesh is frail. _Cress._ Are you my uncle, and can give this counsel to your own brother's daughter? _Pand._ If thou wert my own daughter a thousand times over, I could do no better for thee; what wouldst thou have, girl? he's a prince, and a young prince and a loving young prince! an uncle, dost thou call me? by Cupid, I am a father to thee; get thee in, get thee in, girl, I hear him coming. And do you hear, niece! I give you leave to deny a little, 'twill be decent; but take heed of obstinacy, that's a vice; no obstinacy, my dear niece. [_Exit_ CRESSIDA. _Enter_ TROILUS. _Troil._ Now, Pandarus. _Pand._ Now, my sweet prince! have you seen my niece? no, I know you have not. _Troil._ No, Pandarus; I stalk about your doors. Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks, Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to Elysium, And fly with me to Cressida. _Pand._ Walk here a moment more: I'll bring her strait. _Troil._ I fear she will not come; most sure she will not. _Pand._ How, not come, and I her uncle! why, I tell you, prince, she twitters at you. Ah poor sweet rogue! ah, little rogue, now does she think, and think, and think again of what must be betwixt you two. Oh sweet,--oh sweet--O--what, not come, and I her uncle? _Troil._ Still thou flatter'st me; but pr'ythee flatter still; for I would hope; I would not wake out of my pleasing dream. Oh hope, how sweet thou art! but to hope always, and have no effect of what we hope! _Pand._ Oh faint heart, faint heart! well, there's much good matter in these old proverbs! No, she'll not come, I warrant her; she has no blood of mine in her, not so much as will fill a flea. But if she does not come, and come, and come with a swing into your arms--I say no more, but she has renounced all grace, and there's an end. _Troil._ I will believe thee: go then, but be sure. _Pand._ No, you would not have me go; you are indifferent--shall I go, say you? speak the word then:--yet I care not: you may stand in your own light, and lose a sweet young lady's heart--well, I shall not go then. _Troil._ Fly, fly, thou torturest me. _Pand._ Do I so, do I so? do I torture you indeed? well, I will go. _Troil._ But yet thou dost not go.