Puslapio vaizdai
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This Lord go to him? Jupiter forbid,

And fay in Thunder, Achilles go to him.

Neft. O this is well, he rubs the Vein of him. Dio. And how his filence drinks up his Applause. Ajax. If I go to him-with my armed Fift, I'll pafh him o'er the Face.

Aga, O no, you shall not go.

Ajax. And a be proud with me, I'll phefe his Pride; let me go to him.

Vlyf. Not for the worth that hangs upon our Quarrel.
Ajax. A paultry Infolent Fellow-
Neft. How he defcribes himfelf.
Ajax. Can he not be fociable?
Vlyf. The Raven chides blackness.
Ajax. I'll let his Humours Bload.

Aga. He will be the Phyfician, that should be the Patient.
Ajax. And all Men were a my Mind-

Vlyf. Wit would be out of fashion.

Ajax. A fhould not bear it fo, a fhould eat Swords first;

fhall Pride carry it?

Neft. And 'twould, you'd carry half.

Ulys. A would have ten fhares.

Ajax. I will knead him, I'll make him fupple, he's not yet through warm.

Neft. Force him with Praises, pour in, pour in, his Ambition is dry.

Vlyf. My Lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
Neft. Our noble General, do not do fo.

Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
Ulys. Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm.
Here is a Man---but 'tis before his Face---

I will be filent.

Neft. Wherefore should you fo?

He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulys. Know the whole World, he is as valiant.

Ajax. A whorlon Dog! that fhall palter thus with us-

would he were a Trojan.

Neft. What a Vice were it in Ajax now--

Vlyf. If he were proud.

Dio. Or covetous of Praife.

Vlyf. Ay, or furly born.

Dio. Or ftrange, or felf-affected.

(posure

Vlyf. Thank the Heavens, Lord, thou art of a fweet Com

Praife him that got thee, the that gave thee fuck:

Fame be thy Tutor, and thy parts of Nature

Thrice fam'd beyond, beyond all Erudition;

But he that difciplin'd thy Arms to fight,
Let Mars divide Eternity in twain,
And give him half; and for thy Vigor,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield

To Sinewy Ajax: I will not praise thy Wisdom
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a fhore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts; here's Neftor
Inftructed by the Antiquary times:

He muft, he is, he cannot but be wife.
But pardon, Father Neftor, were your Days
As green as Ajax, and your Brain fo temper'd,
You fhould not have the eminence of him
But be as Ajax.

Ajax. Shall I call you Father?

Vlyf. Ay, my good Son.

Dio. Be rul'd by him, Lord Ajax.

Vlyf. There is no tarrying here, the Hart Achilles Keeps thicket; please it our General,

To call together all this State of War;

Fresh Kings are come to Troy ; to Morrow

We must with all our main of Power ftand faft:

And here's a Lord (come Knights from Eaft to Weft,
And cull their Flower) Ajax fhall cope the best.
Aga. Go we to Council, let Achilles sleep;

Light Boats may fail fwift, though great bulks draw deep.
[Exeunt. Mufick sounds within.

Pan.

ACT III. SCENE I.

SCENE Troy.

Enter Pandarus, and a Servant.

PAN. Fhe young Lord Paris?
FR

Riend! you! pray you a word: Do not you follow

Ser. Ay, Sir, when he goes before me.

Pan.

Pan. You depend upon him, I mean?

Ser. Sir, I do depend upon the Lord.

Pan. You depend upon a Noble Gentleman: I must needs praise him.

Ser. The Lord be praised.

Pan. You know me, do you not?

Ser. Faith, Sir, fuperficially.

Pan. Friend, know me better, I am the Lord Pandarus.` Ser. I hope I fhall know your Honour better.

Pan. I do defire it,

Ser. You are in the state of Grace?

Pan, Grace, not fo, Friend, Honour and Lordship are my Titles: What Mufick is this?

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Ser. I do but partly know, Sir; it is Mufick in parts,
Pan. Know you the Muficians?

Ser. Wholly, Sir.

Pan. Who play they to?

Ser. To the hearers, Sir.

Pan. At whofe pleasure, Friend?

Ser. At mine, Sir, and theirs that love Mufick.

Pan. Command, I mean, Friend.

Ser. Who fhall I command, Sir?

Pan. Friend, we underftand not one another: I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whofe 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 Perfon; with him the mortal Venus, the Heart-blood of Beauty, Love's invifible Soul, Pan. Who, my Coufin Creffida?,

Ser. No, Sir, Helen; could you not find out that by her Attributes?

Pan. It should feem, Fellow, that thou haft not seen the Lady Creffida. Icome to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus: I will make a complemental Affault upon him, for my Business feethes.

Ser. Sodden Bufinefs, there's a ftew'd Phrase indeed.

Enter Paris and Helen.

Pan. Fair be to you, my Lord, and to all this fair Company Fair defires in all fair measure fairly guide them, efpecially to you, fair Queen, fair Thoughts be your fair Pillow.

Helen.

1

Helen. Dear Lord, you are full of fair Words.

Pan. You fpeak your fair pleafure, fweet Queen: fair Prince, here is good broken Mufick.

Par. You have broken it, Coufin; and by my Life you fhall make it whole again, you fhall piece it out with a peice of your performance. Nel, he is full of Harmony, Pan. Truly, Lady, no.

Helen. O, Sir

Pan. Rude in footh, in good footh very rude.

Par. Well faid, my Lord; well, you fay fo in fits. Pan. I have Bufinefs to my Lord, dear Queen; my Lord, will you vouchsafe me a Word?

Helen. Nay, this fhall not hedge us out, we'll hear you fing certainly.

Pan. Well, fweet Queen, you are pleasant with me; but, marry thus, my Lord, my dear Lord, and moft efteemed Friend, your Brother Troilus

Helen. My Lord Pandarus, hony-fweet Lord,
Pan. Go to, fweet Queen, go to

Commends himself most affectionately to you.

Helen. You fhall not bob us out of our melody:
If you do, our Melancholy upon your Head.

Pan. Sweet Queen, fweet Queer, that's a fweet Queen,
I'faith-

Helen. And to make a fweet Lady fad, is a fower Offence. Nay, that fhall not ferve your turn, that fhall it not in truth la. Nay, I care not for fuch Words, no, no

Pan. And, my Lord, he defires you, that if the King call for him at Supper, you will make his excuse.

Helen. My Lord Pandarus

Pan. What fays my fweet Queen, my very, very sweet
Queen?

Par. What Exploit's in hand, where fups he to Night?
Helen. Nay, but my Lord.

Pan. What fays my fweet Queen? my Cousin will fall out with you.

Helen. You must not know where he fups.

Par. With my difpofer Creffida.

Pan. No, no, no fuch matter, you are wide, come, your difpofer is fick.

Rar. Well, I'll make excufe.

Pan.

Pan. Ay, good my Lord; why fhould you fay Creffida? No, your poor difpofer's fick.

Par. I fpy

Pan. You fpy, what do you fpy? Come, give me an Inftrument now, fweet Queen.

Helen. Why this is kindly done.

Pan. My Niece is horrible in love with a thing you have, fweet Queen.

Helen. She fhall have it, my Lord, if it be not my Lord

Paris.

Pan. He? no, fhe'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 fing you a Song now.

Helen. Ay, ay, prithee now; by my troth, fweet Lord, thou haft a fine Fore-head.

Pan. Ay, you may, you may

Hel. Let thy Song be Love: This Love will undo us all. Oh, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.

Pan. Love! ay, that it fhall, i'faith.

Par. Ay, good now, Love, Love, nothing but Love.
Pan. In good troth it begins fo.

Love, Love, nothing but Love, ftill more:

For O, Love's Bow

Shoots both Buck and Doe:

The Shaft confounds not that it wounds,

But tickles ftill the Sore:

Thefe Lovers cry, oh ho they dye;

Yet that which feems they wound to kill,

Doth turn oh ho, to ha ha he:

So dying Love lives ftill,

O ho a while, but ha ha ha;

O ho groans out for ha ha ha-hey ho.

Helen. In Love i'faith to the very tip of the Nofe.

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.

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