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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 fing, 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, l'faith

Helen. And to make a sweet lady fad, is a four 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. 3 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

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.

Helen. You must not know where he sups.
Par. I'll lay my life, 4 with my disposer Cressida.


sweet queen.

3 And, my lord, be defires you, —] Here I think the speech of Pandarus should begin, and the reit of it should be added to that of Helen, but I have followed the copies. JOHNSON.


my DISPOSER Crefida.] I think difpofer should, in these places, be read DISPOUSER ; me that would separate Helen from him. WARBURTON. VOL, IX.

I do

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 disposer'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.

Pun. 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 s 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 !

I do not understand the word diffoler, nor know what to substitute in its place. There is no variation in the copies. JOHNS.

I suspect that, You must not know where be fups, should be added to th: speech of Pandarus; and that the following one of Paris hould be given to Helen. That Creilida wanted to separate Paris froin Helen, or that the beauty of Cressida had any power over Paris, are circumftances not evident from the play. The one is the opinion of Dr. Warburton, the other a conjecture offered by the author of The Revisal. By giving, however, this line, I'll lay my life, with my difpojer Crellida, to Helen, and by changing the word difpojer into deposer, fome - meaning may be obtained. She addrefles herself, I suppose, to Pandarus, and, by her deposer, means the who thinks her beauty (or, whose beauty you suppose) to be fuperior to mine.

STEEVENS. Sweet lord, -- ] In the quarto sweet lad. Johns.


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Pan. Love !ay, that it shall, 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 oh, love's bow
Shoots buck and doe :
The shaft confounds,

Not that it wounds,
But tickles still the fore.

These lovers cry, oh! oh! they die!

6 Yet that which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn ob ! oh! to ha! ha! be!

So dying love lives still :
Ob! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha!
Oh! Oh! groans out for ba! 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 afield to-day?

Yet that, which seems the quound to kill,] To kill the wound is no very intelligible expreffion, nor is the measure preserved. We might read,

These lovers cry,

Oh! oh! they die!
But that which seems to kill,

Doth turn, &c.

So dying love lives fill. Yet as the wound 10 kill may mean the colind that. Siems mortal, I alter nothing. JOHNSON.


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Par. Ilector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy. I would fain have arm’d to-day, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance


brother Troilus went not? Helen. He hangs the lip at something. You know all, lord Pandarus.

Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen.--I long to hear how they sped to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse?

Par. To a hair.
Pan. Farewell, sweet queen.
Helen. Commend me to your niece.
Pan. I will, sweet queen. [Exit. Sound a retreat.
Par. They are come from field : let us to Priam's

To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you
To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd,
Shall more obey, than to the edge of steel,
Or force of Greekish finews; you shall do more
Than all the inand kings; difarm great Hector.
Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant,

Paris :
Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty
Gives us more palm in beauty than we have ;
Yea, over-shines ourselves.

Par. Sweet. Above thought I love thee. [Exeunt.


Pandarus's garden. Entier Pandarus and Troilus's Man. Pan. How now? Where's thy master? at my cousin Cressida's ?

Serv. No, Sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.


Enter Troilus.

Pan. O, here he comes. How now, how now?
Troi. Sirrah, walk off.
Pan. Have you seen my cousin ?

Troi. No, Pandarus: Í stalk about her door,
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the lily beds
Propos'd for the deserver ! O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And Ay with me to Cresid!
Pan. Walk here i’ the orchard; I will bring her

[Exit Pandarus. Troi. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense ; what will it be, When that the watry palate tastes, indeed, Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me; Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine, Too subtle-potent, 'tun'd too sharp in sweetness, For the capacity of my ruder powers : I fear it much; and I do fear besides, That I shall lose distinction in my joys; As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying

Re-enter Pandarus.

Per. She's making her ready, she'll come straight: you must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so fhort, as if she were fraid with a

and :09 fiarp in sweetness,] So the folio and all modern editions ; but the quarto more accurately, tun'd too harp in sweeincis. JOHNSON.


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