Imatges de pàgina
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Ulyf. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Ajax. A whorson dog! that palters thus with us
Would he were a Trojan.

Neft. What a vice were it in Ajax now.
Ulys. If he were proud !
Dio. Or covetous of praise !
Ulys. Ay, or furly-born!
Dio. Or strange, or self-affected !

[posure ;
Ulys. Thank the heay'ns, Lord, thou art of sweet com-
Praise him that got thee, her that gave thee suck:
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition !
But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half ! sland for thy strength and vigor,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield
To sinewy Ajax ! I'll not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a borne, a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts. Here's Nestor
Instructed by the antiquary times;
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise:
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax, and your brain so temperd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.

Ajax. Shall I call you father?
Ulys. Ay, my good son.
Dio. Be rul'd by him, Lord Ajax.

Ulys. 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 Troy; to-morrow, friends,
We must with all our main of pow'r stand fast:
And here's a Lord, come Knights from east to west,
And cull their flow'r, Ajax shall cope the best.

Aga. Go we to council, let Achilles Neep ; Light boats fail swift,though greater hulks draw deep [Exe.

Аст 5 and for thy vigor,

A C T III. S CE N E I.

.

Paris's. Apartment in the Palace in TROY. Enter Pandarus, and a Servant. [Mufick within.]

· PANDA RUS. 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 him, I mean? Ser. Sir, I do depend upon the Lord.

Pan. You depend upon a noble gentleman: I must needs praise him.

Ser. The Lord be praised !
Pan, You know me, do you

not? Ser: 'Faith, Sir, superficially.

Pan. Friend, know me better, I am the Lord Pan. darus.

Ser. I hope I shall know your Honour better.
Pan. I do desire it.
Ser. '/Are you in the state of grace ?

Pan. Grace? not so, friend : Honour and Lordship are my titles: What musick is this?

Ser. I do but partly know, Sir ; it is musick in parts.
Pan. Know you the musicians?
Ser. Wholly, Sir.
Pan. Who play they to?
Ser. To the hearers, Sir.
Pan. At whose pleasure, friend?
Ser. At mine, Sir, and theirs that love musick.
Pan. Command, I mean, friend.
Ser. Who shall I command, Sir ?
Pan. Friend, we understand not one another : I am
Vol. VI.
D

too 1 You are

too 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 Vénus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's 2/visible' foul.

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 Crelida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus : I will make a complemental assault upon him, for my business seethes.

Ser. Sodden business, there's a stew'd phrase indeed.

S C Ε Ν Ε 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 musick.

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.
Helen. O, Sir
Pan. Rude, in footh ; in good footh, very rude.
Par. Well said, my Lord; well, you say fo in fits.

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 sing certainly.

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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!

3' Pan. Sweet Queen, sweet Queen, that's a sweet Queen, i'faith : and to make a sweet Lady fad, is a fower offence.

Helen. Nay, that shall not serve your turn, that shall it not in truth la. Nay, I care not for such words, no,

no

Pan. 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 fweet Queen, my very very sweet Queen? Par. 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.—* 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,

Par. Well, I'll make excuse.

Pan. Ay, good my Lord; why should you say Cressida ? .no, your poor dispofer'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. D 2

Pan.

3.Par. Sweet Qucen, sweet Queen, that's a sweet Queen, i'faith.

Helen. And to make a sweet lady Sad, is a lower offence. Nay that fhall not serve your turn, &c. .

4. Helen. You must not know where he sups.

Pan. My neice is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet Queen.

Hélen. She Thall 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'II 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.
Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.
Pan. In good troth it begins so.

Love, love, nothing but love, still more :
For O, love's bow
Shoots buck and doe :
The shaft confounds
Not that it wounds,
But tickles fill the fore :
These lovers cry, ob ob they die :
Yet, that which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn, oh oh, to ha ha he:
So dying love lives still.
o be a while, but ba ba ba;

O bo groans out for ba ba ba bey be!
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

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