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Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida ?

Seru. No, sir, Helen; Could you not find out that by her attributes ?

Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the lady Cressida. I come to speak with Pariş from the prince Troilus : I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seeths,

41 Serv. Sodden business! there's a stew'd phrase, in deed!

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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. 50

Par. You have broke 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 sooth; in good sooth, 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 ? 60

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

Pan.

Pan. 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 Pandarús; honey-sweet lord

Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to :commends him. self most affectionately to you.

Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody; If you do, our melancholy upon your head ! 70

Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen ; that's a sweet

queen, i'faith,

1

Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad, is a sour offence.

Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no.- -And, my lord, he desires you, that, if the king call for him at supper, you will make his excuse. Helen. My lord Pandarus

86 Pan. What says my sweet queen ; my very very sweet queen ?

Pan. What exploit's in hand : where sups 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 sick.

93 Par. Well, I'll make excuse.

Pan.

100

Pan. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say— Cressida ? no, your poor disposer's sick.

Par. I spy

Pan. You spy! what do you spyl-Come, give me an instrument. Now, sweet queen.

Helen. Why, this is kindly done.

Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet queen.

Helen. She shall 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 forehead.

Pan. Ay, you may, you may.

Holen. 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 so:

110

Love, love, nothing but love, still more!

For, oh, love's bow
Shoots buck and doe :
The shaft confounds

Not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore.

120

These

These lovers cry-Oh! oh! they die!

Yet that which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! be!

So dying love lives still :
Oh! Oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha!
Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha!

Hey ho!

129

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 is 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 a-field 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

14% 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 bro. ther's excuse ?

Par. To a hair.
Pan. Farewel, sweet queen,
Helen. Commend me to your niece.

150 Pan. I will, sweet queen. [Exit. Sound a Retreat.

Gij

Par.

3

!

Par. They are 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 touchd, Shall more obey, than to the edge of steel, Or force of Greekish sinews; 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 160 Gives us more palm in beauty than we have; Yea, over-shines ourself.

Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee. (Excurt.

SCENE II.

PANDARUS' Garden. Enter PANDARUS, and TROL-'

LUS' Man,

Pan. How now? Where's thy master ? at my cou. sin Cressida's ?

Seru. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.

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Enter TROILUS.

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

Pan.

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