Imatges de pàgina
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Fraise 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,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half; and for thy vigor,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yields

To finewy Ajax; I'll not praife thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious 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 must with all our main of pow'r stand fast:
And here's a lord, come Knights from Eaft to Weft,
And cull their flow'r, Ajax fhall cope the best.

Aga. Go we to Council, let Achilles sleep; Lightboats fail fwift, though greater hulks draw deep. [Exeunt.

ACT III. SCENE I.. Paris's Apartments in the Palace, in Troy. Enter Pandarus, and a Servant. [Mufic within.

PANDA RUS.

Ffollow the young lord Paris?

RIEND! you! pray you, a word: do not you

Ser.

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
Pandarus.

Ser. I hope, I fhall know your honour better.
Pan. I do defire it.

Ser. You are in the ftate 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. Wholly, Sir.

Pan. Who play they to?

Ser. To the bearers, Sir.

Pan. At whole pleasure, friend?

Ser. At mine, Sir, and theirs that love mufic.
Pan. Command, I 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, indeed, Sir; marry, Sir, at the request 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 fhould feem, fellow, that thou haft not seen the lady Creffida. I come to fpeak with Paris from

the

the Prince Troilus: I will make a complimental affault upon him, for my bufinefs feethes.

Ser. Sodden bufinefs! there's a few'd phrase, indeed.

Pan.

FA!

SCENE II.

Enter Paris and Helen, attended.

AIR be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair Defires in all fair measure 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 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 vouchfafe 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 moft efteemed Friend, your brother Troilus

Helen. My lord Pandarus, honey-fweet lord,
Pan. Go to, fweet Queen, go to-

Commends himself molt affectionately to you.
Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody:
If you do, our melancholy upon your head!

Pan. Sweet Queen, fweet Queen, that's a fweet Queen, I'faith

Helen. And to make a fweet lady fad, is a four

offence.

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

Helen. You must not know where he fups.

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Par. I'll lay my life, with my difpoufer Creffida. Pan. No, no, no fuch matter, you are wide; come, your difpoufer is fick.

Par. Well, I'll make excufe:

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

Par. I fpy

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

Helen. Why, this is kindly done.

Pan. My neice 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 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.

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, fill more:

For 0, 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, oh! oh! to ha, ha, he:
So dying love lives ftill.

Oho, a while; but ha, ha, ha;

O ho groans out for 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 all the gallantry of Troy. I would fain have arm`d to-day, 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 I, honey fweet Queen: I long to hear how they sped to-day. You'll remember your bro. ther's excufe?

Par. To a hair.

Pan. Farewel, sweet Queen.

Helen. Commend me to your neice.

Pan.

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