Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: W. L. Godshalk
Peer Reviewed

Troilus and Cressida (Folio 1, 1623)


Enter Pandarus and a Seruant.
Pan. Friend, you, pray you a word: Doe not you fol-
1480low the yong Lord Paris?
Ser. I sir, when he goes before me.
Pan. You depend vpon him I meane?
Ser. Sir, I doe depend vpon the Lord.
Pan. You depend vpon a noble Gentleman: I must
1485needes praise him.
Ser. The Lord be praised.
Pa. You know me, doe you not?
Ser. Faith sir, superficially.
Pa. Friend know me better, I am the Lord Pandarus.
1490Ser. I hope I shall know your honour better.
Pa. I doe desire it.
Ser. You are in the state of Grace?
Pa. Grace, not so friend, honor and Lordship are my
title: What Musique is this?
1495Ser. I doe but partly know sir: it is Musicke in parts.
Pa. Know you the Musitians.
Ser. Wholly sir.
Pa. Who play they to?
Ser. To the hearers sir.
1500Pa. At whose pleasur friend?
Ser. At mine sir, and theirs that loue Musicke.
Pa. Command, I meane friend.
Ser. Who shall I command sir?
Pa. Friend, we vnderstand not one another: I am too
1505courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whose request doe
these men play?
Ser. That's too't indeede sir: marry sir, at the request
of Paris my L. who's there in person; with him the mor-
tall Venus, the heart bloud of beauty, loues inuisible
1510soule.
Pa. Who? my Cosin Cressida.
Ser. No sir, Helen, could you not finde out that by
her attributes?
Pa. It should seeme fellow, that thou hast not seen the
1515Lady Cressida. I come to speake with Paris from the
Prince Troylus: I will make a complementall assault vpon
him, for my businesse seethes.
Ser. Sodden businesse, there's a stewed phrase indeede.
Enter Paris and Helena.
1520Pan. Faire be to you my Lord, and to all this faire com-
pany: faire desires in all faire measure fairely guide them,
especially to you faire Queene, faire thoughts be your
faire pillow.
Hel. Deere L. you are full of faire words.
1525Pan. You speake your faire pleasure sweete Queene:
faire Prince, here is good broken Musicke.
Par. You haue broke it cozen: and by my life you
shall make it whole againe, you shall peece it out with a
peece of your performance. Nel, he is full of harmony.
1530Pan. Truely Lady no.
Hel. O sir.
Pan. Rude in sooth, in good sooth very rude.
Paris. Well said my Lord: well, you say so in fits.
Pan. I haue businesse to my Lord, deere Queene: my
1535Lord will you vouchsafe me a word.
Hel. Nay, this shall not hedge vs out, weele heare you
sing certainely.
Pan. Well sweete Queene you are pleasant with me,
but, marry thus my Lord, my deere Lord, and most estee-
1540med friend your brother Troylus.
Hel. My Lord Pandarus, hony sweete Lord.
Pan. Go too sweete Queene, goe to.
Commends himselfe most affectionately to you.
Hel. You shall not bob vs out of our melody:
1545If you doe, our melancholly vpon your head.
Pan. Sweete Queene, sweete Queene, that's a sweete
Queene I faith---
Hel. And to make a sweet Lady sad, is a sower offence.
Pan. Nay, that shall not serue your turne, that shall it
1550not in truth la. Nay, I care not for such words, no, no.
And my Lord he desires you, that if the King call for him
at Supper, you will make his excuse.
Hel. My Lord Pandarus?
Pan. What saies my sweete Queene, my very, very
1555sweete Queene?
Par. What exploit's in hand, where sups he to night?
Hel. Nay but my Lord?
Pan. What saies my sweete Queene? my cozen will
fall out with you.
1560Hel. You must not know where he sups.
Par. With my disposer Cressida.
Pan. No, no; no such matter, you are wide, come your
disposer is sicke.
Par. Well, Ile make excuse.
1565Pan. I good my Lord: why should you say Cressida?
no, your poore disposer's sicke.
Par. I spie.
Pan. You spie, what doe you spie: come, giue me an
Instrument now sweete Queene.
1570Hel. Why this is kindely done?
Pan. My Neece is horrible in loue with a thing you
haue sweete Queene.
Hel. She shall haue it my Lord, if it be not my Lord
Paris.
1575Pand. Hee? no, sheele none of him, they two are
twaine.
Hel. Falling in after falling out, may make them three.
Pan. Come, come, Ile heare no more of this, Ile sing
you a song now.
1580Hel. I, I, prethee now: by my troth sweet Lord thou
hast a fine fore-head.
Pan. I you may, you may.
Hel. Let thy song be loue: this loue will vndoe vs al.
Oh Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.
1585Pan. Loue? I that it shall yfaith.
Par. I, good now loue, loue, no thing but loue.
Pan. In good troth it begins so.
Loue, loue, no thing but loue, still more:
For O loues Bow,
1590Shootes Bucke and Doe:
The Shaft confounds not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore:
These Louers cry, oh ho they dye;
Yet that which seemes the wound to kill,
1595Doth turne oh ho, to ha ha he:
So dying loue liues still,
O ho a while, but ha ha ha,
O ho grones out for ha ha ha----hey ho.
Hel. In loue yfaith to the very tip of the nose.
1600Par. He eates nothing but doues loue, and that breeds
hot bloud, and hot bloud begets hot thoughts, and hot
thoughts beget hot deedes, and hot deedes is loue.
Pan. Is this the generation of loue? Hot bloud, hot
thoughts, and hot deedes, why they are Vipers, is Loue a
1605generation of Vipers?
Sweete Lord whose a field to day?
Par. Hector, Deiphœbus, Helenus, Anthenor, and all the
gallantry of Troy. I would faine haue arm'd to day, but
my Nell would not haue it so.
1610How chance my brother Troylus went not?
Hel. He hangs the lippe at something; you know all
Lord Pandarus?
Pan. Not I hony sweete Queene: I long to heare how
they sped to day:
1615Youle remember your brothers excuse?
Par. To a hayre.
Pan. Farewell sweete Queene.
Hel. Commend me to your Neece.
Pan. I will sweete Queene.
Sound a retreat.
1620Par. They're come from fielde: let vs to Priams Hall
To greete the Warriers. Sweet Hellen, I must woe you,
To helpe vnarme our Hector: his stubborne Buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers toucht,
Shall more obey then to the edge of Steele,
1625Or force of Greekish sinewes: you shall doe more
Then all the Iland Kings, disarme great Hector.
Hel. 'Twill make vs proud to be his seruant Paris:
Yea what he shall receiue of vs in duetie,
Giues vs more palme in beautie then we haue:
1630Yea ouershines our selfe.
Sweete aboue thought I loue thee.
Exeunt.