Imatges de pàgina
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Uly. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.
Ajax. A whorfon 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!

Ulyf. Ay, or furly-born!

Dio. Or ftrange, or felf-affected!

[posure ;

Ulyf. Thank the heav'ns, Lord, thou art of fweet com

Praife him that got thee, her that gave thee fuck :
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, T
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,

And give him half! 'and for thy strength and vigor,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield

To finewy Ajax! I'll not praife thy wisdom,
Which, like a borne, a pale, a fhore, confines
Thy fpacious and dilated parts.

Here's Neftor
Inftructed by the antiquary times;

He muft, he is, he cannot but be wife:
But pardon, father Neftor, were your days
As green as Ajax', and your brain fo temper'd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.

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 Troy; to-morrow, friends,

We muft with all our main of pow'r stand fast:

And here's a Lord, come Knights from eaft to west,
And cull their flow'r, Ajax fhall cope the best.
Aga. Go we to council, let Achilles fleep;

Light boats fail fwift,though greater hulks draw deep. [Exe.

ACT

5 and for thy vigor,

ACT III.

SCENE I.

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

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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, fuperficially.

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

Ser. I hope I fhall know your Honour better.

Pan. I do defire it.

Ser. Are you in the ftate of grace?

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

Ser. I do but partly know, Sir; it is mufick in parts. Pan. Know you the musicians?

Ser. Wholly, Sir.

Pan. Who play they to?

Ser. To the hearers, Sir.

Pan. At whofe pleasure, friend?

Ser. At mine, Sir, and theirs that love mufick.

Pan. Command, I mean, friend.

Ser. Who fhall I command, Sir?

Pan. Friend, we understand not one another: I am

VOL. VI.

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1 You are

too courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whofe requeft do thefe men play?

Ser. That's to't indeed, Sir; marry, Sir, at the requeft of Paris my Lord, who's there in perfon; with him the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's 2/vifible foul.

Pan. Who? my cousin Creffida?

Ser. No, Sir, Helen; could you not find out that by her attributes?

Pan. It fhould feem, fellow, that thou haft not seen the Lady Creffida. I come to fpeak with Paris from the Prince Troilus: I will make a complemental affault upon him, for my business feethes.

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

S

CENE II.

Enter Paris and Helen, attended.

Pan. Fair be to you, my Lord, and to all this fair company! fair defires in all fair meafure fairly guide them; efpecially to you, fair Queen, fair thoughts be your fair pillow!

Helen. Dear Lord, you are full of fair words.

Pan. You fpeak your fair pleafure, fweet Queen : fair Prince, here is good broken mufick.

Par. You have broken it, coufin, and, by my life, you fhall 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 vouchfafe me a word?

Helen. Nay, this fhall not hedge us out, we'll hear you fing certainly.

2 invifible

Pan.

Pan. Well, fweet Queen, you are pleasant with me: but, marry thus, my Lord; my dear Lord and most efteemed friend your brother Troilus

Helen. My Lord Pandarus, honey-fweet Lord. Pan. Go to, fweet Queen, go toCommends himself moft affectionately to you.

Helen. You fhall not bob us out of our melody: if you do, our melancholy upon your head!

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

Helen. Nay, that fhall not ferve your turn, that shall it not in truth la. Nay, I care not for fuch words, no,

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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?
Helen. Nay, but my Lord-

Pan. What fays my fweet Queen? my coufin will fall out with you.'You must not know where he fups.` Par. I'll lay my life, with my difpofer Creffida.

Pan. No, no, no fuch matter, you are wide; come, your difpofer is fick.

Par. Well, I'll make excufe.

Pan. Ay, good my Lord; why fhould you fay Creffida? no, your poor difpofer's fick.

Par. I fpy

Pan. You fpy, what do you spy? come, give me an inftrument now, fweet Queen.

Helen. Why, this is kindly done.

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3 Pan. Sweet Qucen, fweet Queen, that's a fweet Queen, i'faith. Helen. And to make a fweet lady fad, is a fower offence. Nay that fhall not ferve your turn, &c.

4 Helen. You must not know where he fups.

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

Helen. She hall 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, sweet Lord, thou haft a fine fore-head.

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.
Pan. In good troth it begins fo.

Love, love, nothing but love, still more:
For O, love's bow

Shoots buck and doe:

The fhaft confounds
Not that it wounds,

But tickles ftill the fore:

Thefe lovers cry, oh oh they die:

Yet, that which feems the wound to kill,
Doth turn, ob ob, to ba ba be:

So dying love lives ftill.

O ho a while, but ha ha ha;

O bo groans out for ba ba babey bo!

Helen. In love i'faith to the very tip of the nofe!

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

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