7080As wedged with a
sigh would riue in twaine,
7181Lea
st Hector or my father
should perceiue mee
: 7282I haue (as when the Sunne doth light a
scorne)
7383Buried this
sigh in wrincle of a
smyle,
7484But
sorrow that is coucht in
seeming gladne
sse,
7585Is like that mirth fate turnes to
suddaine
sadne
sse.
7686Pan: And her haire were not
some-what darker then
Hel- 7787lens, well go to, there were no more compari
son betweene
7888the women! but for my part
she is my kin
swoman, I would
7989not as they tearme it prai
se her, but I would
som-body had
8090heard her talke ye
ster-day as I did, I will not di
sprai
se your
8191sister C
assandraes wit, but-------
8292Troy. Oh P
andarus I tell thee P
andarus, 8393When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd
8494Reply not in how many fadomes deepe,
8595They lie indrench'd, I tell thee I am madde:
8696In C
ressi}ds love? thou an
swer
st she is faire,
8797Powre
st in the open vlcer of my heart
: 8898Her eyes, her haire her cheeke, her gate, her voice,
8999Handle
st in thy di
scour
se: O that her hand
90100In who
se compari
son all whites are ynke
91101Writing their owne reproch; to who
se
soft
sei
sure,
92102The cignets downe is har
sh, and
spirit of
sence:
93103Hard as the palme of plow-man; this thou tel
st me,
94104As true thou tel
st me, when I
say I loue her,
95105But
saying thus in
steed of oyle and balme,
96106Thou lay
st in euery ga
sh that loue hath giuen mee
97107The knife that made it.
98108Pan: I
speake no more then truth.
99109Troy. Thou do
st not
speake
so much.
100110Pan: Faith Ile not meddle in it, let her bee as
shee is, if
she
101111bee faire tis the better for her, and
shee bee not,
she has the
102112mends in her owne hands.
103113Troy. Good P
andarus, how now P
andarus?
104114Pan: I haue had my labour for my trauell, ill thought on
105115of her, and ill thought of you, gon betweene and betweene,
106116but
small thanks for my labour.
107117Troy. What art thou angry P
andarus? what with me?
Pan.