Puslapio vaizdai

Pan. Command, I mean, friend.
Ser. Who shall I command, Sir ?

Pan. Friend, we understand not one another : I am too courely, and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play?

Ser. That's to't, indeed, Sir ; marry, Sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who's there in person ; with him the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible foul.

Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida ? Ser. No, Sir, Helen; could you not find out That by her attributes ?

Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the lady Cresida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Íroilus : I will make a complemental affault upon him, for my business se . Ser. Sodden business! there's a stew'd phrase, indeed.

Enter Paris and Helen, attended. Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair Desires in all fair measure fairly guide them; especially to you, fair Queen, fair thoughts be your fair pillow!

Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words.

Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet Queen : fair Prince, here is good broken musick.

Par. You have broken it, cousin, and, by my life, you shall make it whole again ; you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance. Nell, he is full of harmony.

Pan. Truly, lady, no.
Helen. O, Sir
Pan. Rude, in footh; in good footh, very rude.
Par. Well said, my lord; well

, you say so in fits. Pan. I have business to my lord, dear Queen ; my lord, will you vouchsafe me a word?

Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out; we'll hear you sing, certainly.

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Par. Well, sweet Queen, you are pleasant with me; but, marry thus, my lord ;- my dear lord, and most esteemed Friend, your brother Troilus

Helen. My lord Pandarus, honey-sweet lord,

Pan. Go to, sweet Queen, go.to Commends himself moit affectionately to you.

Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody: If you do, our melancholy upon your head !

Pan. Sweet Queen, sweet Queen, that's a sweet Queen, l'faith

Helen. And to make a sweet lady fad, is a fower offence. Nay, that shall not serve your turn, that shall it not in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words, no,


Pan. And, my lord, he desires you, that if the King call for him at supper, you will make his excuse.

Helen. My lord Pandarus,

Pan. What says my sweet Queen, my very very sweet Queen?

Par. What exploit's in hand, where fups he to night? Helen. Nay, but my lord,

Pan. What says my sweet Queen? my cousin will fall out with you.

Helen. You must not know where he sups.
Par. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida.

Pan. No, no, no such matter, you are wide ; come, your disposer is fick.

Par. Well, I'll make excuse.

Pan. Ay, good my lord; why should you say, Cref fida? no, your poor disposer's sick.

Par. I spy

Pan. You spy, what do you spy? come, give me an inftrument now, sweet Queen.

Helen. Why, this is kindly done.

Pan. My neice is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet Queen.

Helen. She Thall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris.

Pan. He ? no, she'll none of him, they two are twain,


Helen. Falling in after falling out may make them three.

Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of this. I'll sing you a song now.

Helen. Ay, ay, proythee now; by my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine fore-head.

Pan. Ay, you may, you may

Helen. Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. Oh, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid !

1 Pan. Love ! ay, that it shall, i'faith. Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love, Pan. In good troth, it begins so.

Love, love, nothing but love, still more:
For 0, love's bow
Shoots buck and doe :
The Maft confounds
Not that it wounds,
But tickles still the fore:
These lovers cry, ob! oh! they dye:
Yet That, which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn, ob! ob! to ba, ba, be:
So dying love lives still.
O bo a while, but ba, ba, ba ;
O bo groans out for ba, ba, ba-

-bey ho !

Helen. In love, i'faith, to the very tip of the nose!

Par. He eats nothing but doves, love, and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds are love.

Pan. Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds ? why, they are vipers ; is love a generation of vipers ? Sweet lord, who's afield to day?

Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy. I would fain have arm'd to day, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance


brother Troilus went not?

Helen. He hangs the lip at something; you know all, lord Pandarus.

Pan. Not I, honey sweet Queen : I long to hear how they sped to day. You'll remember your brother's excuse?

Par. To a hair.
Pan. Farewel, sweet Queen.
Helen. Commend me to your neice:
Pan. I will, sweet Queen. (Exit. Sound a Retreat.

Par. They're come from field ; let us to Priam's Hall,
To greet the warriors.--Sweet Helen, I must woo you
To help unarm our Hector : his stubborn buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers toucht,
Shall more obey, than to the edge of steel,
Or force of Greekish finews: you shall do more
Than all the island Kings, disarm great Hector.

Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris :
Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty
Gives us more palm in beauty than we have,
Yea, over-shines our self.

Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee. [Exeunt.

SCENE, an Orchard to Pandarus's House.


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Enter Pandarus, and Troilus's Man. Pan.

where's thy master? at my cousin Cres

sida's ?
Ser. No, Sir, he stays you to conduct him thither,

Enter Troilus.
Pan. O, here he comes ; how now, how now?
Troi. Sirrah, walk off.
Pan. Have you seen my cousin ?

Troi. No, Pandarus : I stalk about her door,
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Cbaron,
And give me swift transportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the lilly beds
Propos'd for the deserver ! O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Cresid.


Pan. Walk here i'th' orchard, I will bring her straight.

[Exit Pandarus. Tro. I'm giddy ; expectation whirls me round. Th’imaginary relish is so sweet, That it enchants my sense; what will it be, When that the watry palates tafte, indeed, Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me ; Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine, Too subtle-potent, and too sharp in sweetness, For the capacity of my rude powers ; I fear it much, and I do fear besides, That I shall lose distinction in my joys; As doth a battel, when they charge on heaps The flying enemy.

Re-Enter Pandarus. Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come straight ; you must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as if she were fraid with a sprite: I'll bring her. It is the prettiest villain, the fetches her breath as short as a new ta'en sparrow.

[Exit Pandarus. Troi. Ev’n such a passion doth embrace my bosom: My heart beats thicker than a fev'rous pulse; And all my pow'rs do their bestowing lose, Like Vassalage at unawares encountring The eye of Majesty.

Enter Pandarus and Creffida. Pan. Come, come; what need you blush? Shame's a baby. Here she is now: swear the oaths now to her, that you have sworn to

have sworn to me. What, are you gone again? you must be watch'd ere you be made tame, must you? come your ways, come your ways; if you draw backward, we'll put you i'th' files : (24) Why do you not speak to her ? Come, draw this curtain, and


(24) If you draw backward, we'll put you i'th' files.] Pandarus here threatens her with military Discipline. It was a Cuftom, we find, as old as Homer's Time, for them, in drawing up a Battle, to place fuch,


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