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'Tis said, he holds you well; and will be led,
est. How he describes Himself? [Aside. Ajar. Can he not be sociable? luss. The raven Chides blackness. [Aside. Aiaz. " I’ll let his humours blood. 3. He will be the physician, that should be the patient. [Aside. Ajax. An all men were o' my mind,Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion. [Aside.
Ajax. A should not bear it so, *A should eat swords first: shall pride carry it? Nest. An 't would, you’d carry half. [Aside. 1 Grease. a liked: in quarto. * Humble.
Ulyss. "A would have ten shares. [Aside. Ajar. I will knead him; I will make him supple. #. He’s not yet thorough warm; force him with praises. Pour in, pour in ; his ambition is dry. [Aside. Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. [To AGAMEMNoN. Nest. Our noble general, do not do so. Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm. Here is a man—but ’t is before his face; I will be silent. Nest. Wherefore should you so 2 He is not emulous, as Achilles is. Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. Ajar. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us! Would, he were a Trojan
Nest. What a vice Were it in Ajax now—
Ulyss. If he were proud 2
Dio. Or covetous of praise?
Ulyss. Ay, or surly borne?
Dio. Or strange, or self-affected?
Praise him that got thee, her that gave thee suck:
Aiaz. Shall I call you father?
** #. Ay, my good son. i Ulysses: in folio.
Dio. Be rul’d by him, lord Ajax.
Ulyss. There is no tarrying here: the hart Achilles
Agam. Go we to council: let Achilles sleep.
SCENE I.—Troy. A Room in PRI.AM's Palace.
Pan. Command, I mean, friend. Serv. Who shall I command, sir? Pan. Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play? Serv. That’s to 't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of Paris, my lord, who is there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love’s invisible soul— Pan. Who? my cousin Cressida 2 Serv. 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 complimental assault upon him, for my business seeths. Serv. Sodden business: there’s a stewed phrase, indeed. 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 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 2 Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll hear you sing, certainly. 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 Pandarus; honey-sweet lord,— Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to :—commends 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,_i' faith— 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, Pan. What says my sweet queen,-my very very sweet queen? Par. What exploit’s in hand? where sups he tonight? Helen. Nay, but my lord, Pan. What says my sweet queen?—My cousin will fall out with you. You must not know where he sups. Par. I’ll lay my life,' with my dispraiser,” Cressida. Pan. No, no; no such matter, you are wide. Come, your dispraiser is sick. Par. Well, I’ll make excuse. Pan. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? no, your poor dispraiser’s sick, 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 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, pr’ythee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead. Pan, Ay, you may, you may. Helen. Let thy song be love: this love will undous all. O, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid! Pan. Love? ay, that it shall, i' faith. 1 These words are only in the *. 2 disposer: in f, e. 5