In the midst of the siege of Troy, Troilus laments to Pandarus about
[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 Trojan 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 unpractised infancy.
Pandarus. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part,
I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will
have a cake out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding.
Troilus. Have I not tarried?
Pandarus. Ay, the grinding;
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