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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 TroilusHelen. My lord Pandarus; honey-fweet 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, I'faith

Helen. And to make a fweet lady sad, is a four offence.

Pan. Nay; that shall not ferve your turn; that shall it not in truth, la. Nay, I care not for fuch words; no, no. 3 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 says my sweet queen; my very, very fweet queen.

Par. What exploit's in hand? Where fups 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 fups.

Par. I'll lay my life, 4 with my disposer Creffida.

Pan.

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

4

- with my DISPOSER Crefida.] I think difpofer should, in these places, be read DISPOUSER: he that would feparate

Helen from him. WARBURTON.

VOL. IX.

E

I do

Pan. No, no, no such matter; you are wide: come,

your difpofer is fick.

Par. Well, I'll make excuse.

Pan. Ay, good my lord. Why should you fay, Creffida? No, your poor difpofer's fick.

Par. I fpy

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.

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 5 sweet lord, thou hast 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!

I do not understand the word difpofer, nor know what to fubstitute in its place. There is no variation in the copies. JOHNS. I fufpect that, You must not know where be fups, should be added to the speech of Pandarus; and that the following one of Paris should be given to Helen. That Cressida wanted to feparate Paris from 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 disposer Cressida, to Helen, and by changing the word difpofer into depofer, fome - meaning may be obtained. She addresses herself, I suppose, to Pandarus, and, by her depofer, means-she who thinks her beauty (or, whose beauty you suppose) to be fuperior to mine. STEEVENS.

sfaweet lord, -) In the quarto sweet lad. Johns.

Pan.

i

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, still more!

For ob, 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 !

Yet that which seems the wound to kill,

Doth turn ob! oh! to ha! ha! he!
So dying love lives ftill:
Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ba! ha!
Oh! ob! groans out for ba! ba! ha!

Hey 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 generation of vipers? - Sweet lord, who's afield to-day?

Yet that, which seems the wound 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 ftill.

Yet as the wound to kill may mean the wound that seems mortal,

I alter nothing. JOHNSON.

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 so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?

Helen. He hangs the lip at something. You know all, lord Pandarus.

Pan. Not I, honey-fweet queen. - I long to hear how they fped to-day. You'll remember your brother's excufe?

Par. To a hair.

Pan. Farewell, sweet queen.
Helen. Commend me to your niece.

[Exit. Sound a retreat.

Pan. I will, sweet queen.
Par. They are come from field: let us to Priam's

hall,

To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you
To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,
With thefe 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 island kings; difarm great Hector.

Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his fervant,

Paris:

Yea, what he fshall 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.

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Enter Pandarus and Troilus's Man.

Pan. How now? where's thy master? at my coufin Creffida's?

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

Enter Enter Troilus.

Pan. O, here he comes.

How now, how now?

Troi. Sirrah, walk off.

Pan. Have you seen my cousin ?

Troi. No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door,

Like a strange foul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
And give me fwift transportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the lily beds

Propos'd for the deferver! O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Creffid!

Pan. Walk here i' the orchard; I will bring her

ftraight.

[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 taftes, indeed, Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me; Swooning deftruction; or some joy too fine, Too fubtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in fweetness, For the capacity of my ruder powers: I fear it much; and I do fear befides, That I shall lofse distinction in my joys; As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying.

Re-enter Pandarus.

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

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and too sharp in sweetness,] So the folio and all

modern editions; but the quarto more accurately,

tun'd too sharp in sweetness. JOHNSON.

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