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  • Title: Troilus and Cressida (Quarto 1, 1609)
  • Editor: William Godshalk
  • ISBN: 1-55058-301-8

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: William Godshalk
    Peer Reviewed

    Troilus and Cressida (Quarto 1, 1609)

    of Troylus and Cresseida.
    Pand. Come, come, Ile heare no more of this, Ile sing you a
    song now.
    1580Hell: I, I, prethee, now by my troth sweet lad thou haste a
    fine fore-head.
    Pand: I you may, you may.
    Hell: Let thy song be loue: this loue will vndoe vs all. Oh
    Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.
    1585Pand: Loue? I that it shall yfaith.
    Par: I good now loue, loue, nothing but loue.
    Pand: Loue, loue, nothing but loue,still loue still more:
    For o loues bow. Shoots Bucke and Doe.
    The shafts confound not that it wounds
    But ticles 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,
    Hell: In loue I faith to the very tip of the nose.
    1600Par. He eates nothing but doues loue, and that breeds hot
    blood, and hot bloud begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts
    beget hot deedes, and hot deeds is loue.
    Pand. Is this the generation of loue: hot bloud hot
    thoughts and hot deedes, why they are vipers, is loue a ge-
    1605neration of vipers:
    Sweete Lord whose a field to day?
    Par: Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Anthenor, and all the gal-
    lantry 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?
    Hell: He hangs the lippe at something, you know al Lord
    Pandarus.
    Pand: Not I hony sweete Queene, I long to heare how
    they sped to day:
    1615Youle remember your brothers excuse?
    Par: To a hayre.
    Pand: Farewell sweete Queene.
    F Hell. Com-