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Pan. Command, I mean, friend.

Ser. Who fhall I command, Sir?

Pan. Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whofe requeft do these men play?

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

Pan. Who, my coufin Cresida?

Ser. No, Sir, Helen; could you not find out That by her attributes?

Pan. It fhould feem, fellow, that thou haft not seen the lady Creffida. I come to fpeak with Paris from the Prince Troilus: I will make a complemental affault upon him, for my business seethes.

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 Defires in all fair measure fairly guide them; efpecially 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, 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 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 faid, my lord; well, you fay fo in fits. Pan. I have bufinefs to my lord, dear Queen; my lord, will you vouchfafe me a word?

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

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

Helen. My lord Pandarus, honey-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 Queen, that's a sweet Queen, I'faith

Helen. And to make a fweet lady fad, is a fower offence. Nay, that shall not ferve your turn, that shall 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 fupper, you will make his excuse.

Helen. My lord Pandarus,

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

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

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

Helen. You must not know where he fups.

Par. I'll lay my life, with my difpofer Čreffida. Pan. No, no, no fuch matter, you are wide; come, your difpofer is fick.

Par. Well, I'll make excuse.

Pan. Ay, good my lord; why fhould you fay, Cref fida? 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 neice is horribly in love with a thing you have, fweet Queen.

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

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

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Helen.

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 fong now.

Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now; by my troth, sweet lord, thou haft a fine fore-head.

Pan. Ay, you may, you may

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

Pan. Love! ay, that it shall, 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 buck and doe:

The shaft confounds

Not that it wounds,

But tickles ftill the fore:

Thefe lovers cry, ob! ob! they dye:

Yet That, which feems the wound to kill,
Doth turn, ob! ob! to ba, ba, be:
So dying love lives ftill.

O bo a while, but ha, ha, ha ;

O bo groans out for ba, ba, ba-bey bo!

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 fo. How chance my brother Troilus went not?

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

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

Par. To a hair.

Pan. Farewel, fweet Queen.

Helen. Commend me to your neice.

Pan. I will, fweet 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 ftubborn buckles, With these your white enchanting fingers toucht, Shall more obey, than to the edge of steel, Or force of Greekifh finews: you shall do more Than all the island Kings, difarm great Hector.

Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his fervant, Paris : Yea, what he fhall receive of us in duty

Gives us more palm in beauty than we have,
Yea, over-fhines our self.

Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, an Orchard to Pandarus's Houfe.

Enter Pandarus, and Troilus's Man.

where's thy mafter? at my cousin Cref

Pan. No fida's?

Ser. No, Sir, he ftays you to conduct him thither.

Enter Troilus.

Pan. O, here he comes; how now, how now?
Troi. Sirrah, walk off.

Pan. Have you feen my coufin?

Troi. No, Pandarus: Iftalk about her door,
Like a strange foul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
And give me fwift tranfportance to thofe fields,
Where I may wallow in the lilly beds
Propos'd for the deferver! O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's fhoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Creffid.

Pan.

Pan. Walk here i'th' orchard, I will bring her ftraight. [Exit Pandarus.

Tro. I'm giddy; expectation whirls me round.
Th' imaginary relish is fo fweet,

That it enchants my fenfe; what will it be,
When that the watry palates tafte, indeed,
Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me;
Swooning deftruction, or fome joy too fine,
Too fubtle-potent, and too fharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my rude powers;

I fear it much, and I do fear befides,
That I fhall lofe diftinction in my joys;
As doth a battel, when they charge on heaps
The flying enemy.

Re-Enter Pandarus.

Pan. She's making her ready, fhe'll come ftraight; you must be witty now. She does fo blush, and fetches her wind fo fhort, as if he were fraid with a fprite: I'll bring her. It is the prettiest villain, fhe fetches her breath as fhort as a new ta'en fparrow.

[Exit Pandarus. Troi. Ev'n fuch a paffion doth embrace my bofom: My heart beats thicker than a fev'rous pulse;

And all my pow'rs do their bestowing lofe,
Like Vaffalage at unawares encountring
The eye of Majesty.

Enter Pandarus and Creffida.

Pan. Come, come; what need you blush? Shame's a baby. Here the is now: fwear the oaths now to her, that you have worn to me. What, are you gone again? you must be watch'd ere you be made tame, muft 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 let's

(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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