Neft. He is not yet through warm: force him with praises; pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. Ulyff. My Lord, you feed too much on this dislike. Neft. Our Noble General, do not do fo. Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. Ulf Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm. Here is a man--but 'tis before his face I will be filent. Neft. Wherefore fhould you fo? He is not emulous, as Achilles is. Uly. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. Ajax. A whorefon dog! that palters thus with usWould he were a Trojan! Neft. What a vice were it in Ajax now. Ul If he were proud Dio. Or covetous of praife. Uly Ay, or furly born. ! Dio. Or ftrange, or felf affected. Uly. Thank the heav'ns, Lord, thou art of fweet compofure; Praise him that got thee, her that gave thee fuck: To finewy Ajax; I'll not praise thy wisdom, He must, he is, he cannot but be wife: Ajax. Shall I call you father? Uly. Ay, my good fon. Dio. Be rul'd by him, Lord Ajax. Uly. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles Keeps thicket; please it our great General To call together all his state of war ; Fresh Kings are come to roy: to-morrow, friends, Light boats fail fwift, though greater hulks draw deep. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. Enter Pandarus, and a Servant. [Mufic within. Pan. F 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 muft 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 Pan darus. 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 mufic is this? Ser. I do but partly know, Sir; it is mufic in parts. Pan. Know you the musicians ? Ser. Wholely, Sir. Pan. Who play they to? Ser. To the hearers, Sr. Pan. At whofe pleafare, friend? Ser. At mine, Sir, and theirs that love mufic. Pan. Command, 1 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 thefe men play? Ser. That's to't in leed, Sir; marry, Sir, at the re queft of Paris my Lord, who's there in perfon; with him the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's vifible foul. Pan. Who, my coufin Creffida? Ser. No, Sir, Helen; could you not find out that by her attributes? Pan. It should feem, fellow, that thou haft not feen the Lady Creffida. I came to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business feethes. Ser. Sodden bufinefs! there's a stew'd phrase indeed. SCENE II. Enter Paris and Helen, attended Pan. Fair be to you, my Lord, and to all this fair company! fair defires 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 fpeak your fair pleasure, fweet Queen : fair Prince, here is good broken music. Par. You have broken it, coufin, and, by my life, you shall 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 vouchsafe me a word ? Helen. Nay, this fhall 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 most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus Helen. My Lord Pandarus, honey-fweet Lord,dica Commends himself most affectionately to you. VOL, VII, If you Helen. You fhall not bob us out of our melody: do, our melancholy upon your head! Pan. Sweet Queen, sweet Queen, that's a fweet Queen, i' faith Helen. And to make a sweet lady fad, is a four offence. Nay, that shall not serve your turn, that shall it not in truth, la. Nay, I care not for fuch words, no, Pan. 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 sweet 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 dispouser Creffida. Pan. No, no, no fuch matter, you are wide; come, your dispouser is fick. Par. Well, I'll make excufe. Pan, Ay, good my Lord; why fhould you fay, Creffida no, your poor dispouser's sick. 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 niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, fweet Queen. Helen. She fhall have it, my Lord, if it be not my Lord Paris. Pan. He no, fhe'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 Lord, thou haft a fine forehead. 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. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love, Love, love, nothing but love, ftill more : Shoots buck and doe; The fhaft confounds Thefe lovers cry, Oh! oh! they die: O bo, a while; but ha, ha, ha; -hey ho! 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 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. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and allthe gallantry of Troy. I would fain have arm'd today, but my Nell would not have it fo. How chance my brother Troilus went not? Helen. He hangs the lip at fomething; you know all, Lord Pandarus. Pan. Not 1, honey-fweet Queen: I long to hear how they fped to day. You'll remember your brother's excufe? Par. To a hair. Pan. Farewel, fweet Queen. Helen. Commend me to your niece. 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 muft woo you G. c. 2. |