SCENE, Paris's Apartments in the Palace, in Troy. Enter Pandarus, and a Servant. [Mufick within.] F PANDA RUS. RIEND! you! pray you, a word: do not you follow the young lord Paris? Ser. Ay, Sir, when he goes before me. Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean? Ser. Sir, I do depend upon the lord. Pan. You do 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? Ser. I do but partly know, Sir; it is mufick in parts. Pan. Know you the musicians? 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 ? Pan. 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 Creffida? Ser. No, Sir, Helen; could you not find out That by her attributes? Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou haft not feen the lady Creffida. I come to fpeak with Paris from the Frince Troilus: I will make a complimental affault upon him, for my business feethes. Ser. Sodden business! there's a stew'd phrase, indeed. Enter Paris and Helen, attended. all fair meafure fairly guide fair Queen, fair thoughts be Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair Defires in them; especially to you, 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 shall 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, honey-fweet lord, Commends himself most affectionately to you. e Pan. Pan. Sweet Queen, fweet Queen, that's a sweet Queen, I'faith Helen. And to make a sweet lady fad, is a fower of fence. Nay, that shall not serve your turn, that fhall it not in truth, la. Nay, I care not for fuch words, no, noPan. 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 fweet Queen, my very very fweet Queen? Par. What exploit's in hand, where fups he to night? 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 Creffida. Pan. No, no, no fuch matter, you are wide; come, your difpofer is fick. Par. Well, I'll make excufe. 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 spy? 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 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 fing you a fong now. Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now; by my troth, fweet ford, 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 fhall, i'faith. Par. 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 Thefe lovers cry, ob! oh! they dye: O ho, a while; but 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. 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 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, Q 2 Shall Shall more obey, than to the edge of fteel, Or force of Greekish finews: you shall do more Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his fervant, Paris: Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty Gives us more palm in beauty than we have, Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee. [Exeunt. SCENE an Orchard to Pandarus's House. Enter Pandarus, and Troilus's Man. Pan. Now TOW, where's thy mafter? at my cousin Ser. No, Sir, he stays you to conduct him thither. Pan. O, here he comes; how now, how now? Pan. Have you feen my coufin ? Troi. No, Pandarus: I talk about her door, Propos'd for the deferver! O gentle Pandarus, Pan. Walk here i'th' orchard, I will bring her ftraight. [Exit Pandarus. Troi. I'm giddy; expectation whirls me round. Th' imaginary relish is fo fweet, That it inchants my fenfe; what will it be, Re-enter |