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Dio. Or strange, or self-affected.
green as Ajax, and your Brain fo temper'd,
Ulys. There's no tarrying here, the Hart Achilles
Aga. Go we to Council, let Achilles Aeep;
[Exeunt. Mufick sounds within.
ACT III. SCENE I.
Enter Pandarus, and a Servant. . Riend! you! pray you a word: Do not you
the young Lord Paris? Ser. Ay, Sir, when he goes before me.
Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean?
Pan. You depend upon a Noble Gentleman: I must needs praise him,
Ser. The Lord be praised,
Pan. Grace, not so, Friend, Honour and Lordship are my
Ser. I do but partly know, Sir; it is Mufick in parts.
Pan. Friend, we understand not one another: Lam too courtly, and thou art too curning. 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 Person; with him the mortal Venus, the Heart-blood of Beauty, Love's invisible Soul.
Pan, Who, my cousin Cressida?
Ser. 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 Paris from the Prince - Troilus: I will make a Complemental Assault upon him, for my Bufness feethes, Ser. Sodden Business, there's a stew'd Phrafe indeed.
Enter Paris and Helen. Pan. Fair be to you, my Lord, and to all this fair Company: Fair desires in all fair meafure fairly guide them, especially to you, fair Queen, fair Thoughts be your
Helen. Dear Lord, you are full of fair Words.
Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, fweet Queen; fair
you fhall make it whole again, you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance. Nel, he is full of Harmony.
Pan. Truly, Lady, nb,
Pan. I have Business to my Lord, dear Queen ; my Lord, will you vouchlafe me a Word?
Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out, we'll hear you fing certainly.
Pan. Well, sweet Queen, you are pleasant with me; but, marry thus, my Lord, my dear Lord, and moft esteemed Friend, your Brother Troilus .
Helen. My Lord Pandarus, honey-sweet Lord.
Pan. Go to, sweet Queen, go to Commends himself most affe&ionately to you.
Helen. You fhall not bob us out of our melody: If you do, our Melancholy upon your Head.
Pan. Sweet Queen, (weet Queen, that's a sweet Queen, I' faith
Helen. And to make a sweet Lady fad, is a sower Offence. Nay, that shall not serve 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 Supper, you will make his excuse.
Helen. My Lord Pandarus
Pan. No, no, no such matter, you are wide, come, your
Par. Ay, good my Lord; why should you say Freffida? No, your poor disposer's sick.
Par. I spy
Pan. You spy, what do you soy? Come, give me an Instrument now, sweet Queen.
Helen. Why this is kindly done.
Pan. My Neice is horrible 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.
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, sweet Lord, thou hast a fine Fore-head.
Pan. Ay, you may, you may
Hel. Let thy Song be Love: This Love will uodo us all. Oh, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.
Pan. Love! ay, that it shall, i' faith.
Love, Love, nothing but Love, Still mort :
Shoots both Buck and Doc:
O bo groans out for ha ha ha hey ho.
Par. He eats nothing but Doves, Love, and that breeds hot Blood, and hot Blood begets hor Thoughts, and hot Thoughts beget hot Deeds, and hot deeds are Love.
Pan. Is this the Generation of Love? Hot Blood, bot Thoughts, and hot Deeds? why they are Vipers, Is Laye 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 so. How chance my Brother Troilus went not?
Helen. He hangs the Lip at something; you know all, Lord Pandarus, Pan. Not 1, honey sweet Queen: I long to hear how they
I sped to Day: You'll remember
Brother's excuse Par. Toa Kairs Pan, Farewel, sweet Queen. Helen. Commend me to your Neice. Pan. I will, sweet 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 stubborn Buckles, With these your white enchanting Fingers coucht, Shall more obey, than to the edge of Steel, Or force of Greekib Sinews, you shall do more Than all the Ifand Kings, disarm great Hektor.
Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be your Servant, Paris; Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty, Gives us more palm in Beauty than we have: Yea, over-thines our felf. Sweet, above thought, I love thee.
[Exeunt. Enter, Pandarus, and Troilus's Man. Pan. How now, where's thy Master, at my cousin Cref fida's ? Ser. No. Sit, he stays for you to condu& him thither.
The Enter Troilus.
Troi. No, Pandarus: I stalk about her Door Like a strange Soul upon the Stygian Banks Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon, And give me [wist transportance to those Fields,