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Praise him that got thee, her that gave thee fuck:
Ajax. Shall I call you father ?
Uyl. There is no tarrying here ; the Hart Achilles.
Aga. Go we to Council, let Achilles sleep; Lightboats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.
A C T III. SCENE I.
Paris's Apartments in the Palace, in Troy.
[Music within. PANDA RUS. FRJEN 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 a noble gentleman : I must needs praise him.
Ser. The lord be praised!
titles : What music is this? Ser. I do but partly know, Sir; it is music in
Pan. Friend, we understand not one another : Iam 100 courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whose 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 vilble 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 Crefida. I come to speak with Paris from
the Prince Troilus : I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business feethes. Ser. Sodden business! there's a stew'd phrase,
S CE N E II.
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 music.
Par. You have broken 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,
Pan. I have business to my lord, dear Queen; my lord, will you vouchsafe 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 toCommends himself most affectionately to you.
Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody: If you do, our melancholy upon your head!
Pan. Sweet Queen, sweet Queen, that's a sweet Queen, l'faithHelen. And to make a sweet lady sad, is a four
offence. Nay, that shall not serve your turn, that shall it not in truth, la. Náy, I care not for such 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. What says my sweet Queen, my very very sweet Queen ?
Par. What exploit's in hand, where fups he to night?
Helen. Nay, but my lord,—
Pan. What says my fweet Queen? my cousin will fall out with
you. Helen. You must not know where he sups. Par. I'll lay my life, with my dispouser Cressida.
Pan. No, no, no such matter, you are wide; come, your dispouser is fick.
Par. Well, I'll make excufe:
Pan. Ay, good my lord; why should you say, Creffida? no, your poor dispouser's fick.
Par. I spy
Pan. You spy, what do you spy? come, give me an instrument now, sweet Queen.
Helen. Why, this is kindly done.
Pan. My neice 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, pr’ythee now; by my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine fore-head.
Pan. Ay, you may, you may
Helen. Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. Oh, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid !
Pan. Love !-ay, that it shall, i' faith.
Love, love, nothing but love, Nill more :
O ho groans out for ha, ha, ha—hey ho !
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 a-field to-day?
Par. He&tor, 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 something; you know all, lord Pandarus.
Pan. Not I, haney sweet Queen: I long to hear how they sped to-day. You'll remember your
bro. ther's excuse ?
Par. To a hair.