Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean? Ser. Sir, I do depend upon the Lord. Pan. You dep.nd 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 ftate of Grace? Pan. Grace, not fo, Friend, Honour and Lordship are my Titles: What Mufick is this? 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 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 request of Paris, my Lord, who's there in Perfon; with him the mor tal 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 feen the Lady Creffida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus: I will make a Complemental Affault upon him, for my Bufinefs feethes, Ser. Sodden Business, there's a ftew'd Phrafe indeed. Enter Paris and Helen. Pan. Fair be to you, my Lord, and to all this fair Company: Fair defires in all fair meafure fairly guide them, especially to you, fair Queen, fair Thoughts be your fair Pillow. Helen. 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. 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 vouchfafe me a Word? Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out, we'll hear you fing certainly. Pan. Well, fweet Queen, you are pleafant with me ; but, marry thus, my Lord, my dear Lord, and moft efteemed Friend, your Brother Troilus Helen. My Lord Pandarus, honey-fweet Lord. Commends himself most affectionately to you. Pan. Sweet Queen, fweet Queen, that's a fweet Queen, I'faith Helen. And to make a sweet Lady fad, is a fower Offence. Nay, that shall 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 excufe. 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 sweet Queen? my Coufin will fall out with you. Helen. You muft not know where he fups. Par. With my difpofer Creffida. Pan. No, no, no fuch matter, you are wide, come, your difpofer is fick. Par. 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 spy, what do you spy? Come, give me an Inftrument now, fweet Queen. Helen. Why this is kindly done.. Pan. My Neice 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 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 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, So dying Love lives ftill, O ho a while, but ha ha ha; O ho groans out for ha ha ha hey bo. 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. PAT 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, Anthenor, 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 muft woo you, Or force of Greekish Sinews, you shall do more Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be your Servant, Paris; Yea, what he fhall receive of us in duty, Gives us more palm in Beauty than we have: Yea, over-fhines our felf. Sweet, above thought, I love thee. Enter Pandarus, and Troilus's Man. [Exeunt. Pan. How now, where's thy Mafter, at my Coufin Gref fida's? Ser. No, Sir, he stays for you to condu& him thither. Pan. O, here he comes; How now, how now? Pan. Have you feen my Coufin? Trei. No, Pandarus: I ftalk about her Door Like a ftrange Soul upon the Stygian Banks Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon, And give me fwift tranfportance to thofe Fields, Where Where I will wallow in the Lilly Beds Pan. Walk here i' th' Orchard, I'll bring her straight. [Exit Pandarus Troi. I am giddy; Expectation whirles me round, Th' imaginary relish is fo fweet, That it enchants my Senfe; what will it be I fear it much, and I do fear befides, Enter Pandarus. Pan. She's making her ready, fhe'll come ftraight; you must be witty now, the does fo blush, and fetches her Wind fo short, as if he were fraid with a Sprite: I'll fetch her; it is the prettiest Villain, the fetches her breath fo fhort as a new ta'en Sparrow. [Exit Pan Troi. Even fuch a Paffion doth embrace my Rofom: My Heart beates thicker than a feverous Pulfe, And all my Powers do their bestowing lofe, Like Vaffalage at unawares encountring The Eye of Majefty. Enter Pandarus and Creffida. Pan. Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's a Baby; here fhe is now, fwear the Oaths now to her, that you have fworn to me. What, are you gone again, you must be watch'd e'er you be made tame, muft you? Come your ways, come your ways, and you draw backward we'll put you i'th' Files: Why do you not speak to her? Come draw this Curtain, and let's fee your Picture. Alas the day how loath you are to offend day-light? and 'twere dark you'd clofe fooner. So, fo, rub on, and kifs the Miftrefs; how now a kifs in Fee-farm? build there, Carpenter, the Air is fweet Nay, you shall fight your Hearts out c'er 1 part you. The Faulcon |
