Troy. Priam's Palace.
 Music sounds within.
 Enter PANDARUS and a SERVANT.

Pandarus	Friend, you, pray you a word. Do not you follow the young 
	Lord Paris?

Servant	Ay sir, when he goes before me.

Pandarus	You depend upon him, I mean.

Servant	Sir, I do depend upon the Lord.

Pandarus	You depend upon a noble gentleman; I must needs praise him.

Servant	The Lord be praised!

Pandarus	You know me, do you not?

Servant	Faith, sir, superficially.

Pandarus	Friend, know me better: I am the Lord Pandarus.

Servant	I hope I shall know your honour better.

Pandarus	I do desire it.

Servant	You are in the state of grace?

Pandarus	Grace? Not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles. 
	What music is this?

Servant	I do but partly know, sir: it is music in parts.

Pandarus	Know you the musicians?

Servant	Wholly, sir.

Pandarus	Who play they to?

Servant	To the hearers, sir.

Pandarus	At whose pleasure, friend?

Servant	At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.

Pandarus	Command, I mean, friend.

Servant	Who shall I command, sir?

Pandarus	Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly, and 
	thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play?

Servant	That's to't indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of Paris 
	my lord, who's there in person; with him the mortal Venus, 
	the heart-blood of beauty, love's visible soul.

Pandarus	Who, my cousin Cressida?

Servant	No, sir, Helen. Could not you find out that by her 
	attributes?

Pandarus	It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the Lady 
	Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince 
	Troilus. I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my 
	business seethes.

Servant	[Aside.] Sodden business - there's a stewed phrase indeed!

                  Enter PARIS and HELEN with ATTENDANTS.

Pandarus	Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! Fair 
	desires in all fair measure fairly guide them - especially 
	to you, fair queen, fair thoughts be your fair pillow!

Helen	Dear lord, you are full of fair words.

Pandarus	You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince, here 
	is good broken music.

Paris	You have broke it, cousin; and by my life you shall make it 
	whole again; you shall piece it out with a piece of your 
	performance. Nell, he is full of harmony.

Pandarus	Truly, lady, no.

Helen	O sir!

Pandarus	Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude.

Paris	Well said, my lord; well, you say so in fits.

Pandarus	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 sing, 
	certainly.

Pandarus	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-

Pandarus	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.

Pandarus	Sweet queen, sweet queen, that's a sweet queen i'faith-

Helen	And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.

Pandarus	Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not 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.

Helen	My Lord Pandarus-

Pandarus	What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen?

Paris	What exploit's in hand? Where sups he tonight?

Helen	Nay, but, my lord-

Pandarus	What says my sweet queen? My cousin will fall out with you.

Helen	You must not know where he sups.

Paris	I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida.

Pandarus	No, no, no such matter, you are wide; come, your disposer is 
	sick.

Paris	Well, I'll make excuse.

Pandarus	Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? No, your poor 
	disposer's sick.

Paris	I spy.

Pandarus	You spy? What do you spy? Come, give me an instrument. Now, 
	sweet queen.

Helen	Why, this is kindly done.

Pandarus	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.

Pandarus	He! No, she'll none of him; they two are twain.

Helen	Falling in after falling out may make them three.

Pandarus	Come, come, I'll hear no more of this. I'll sing you a song 
	now.

Helen	Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a 
	fine forehead.

Pandarus	Ay, you may, you may.

Helen	Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. O Cupid, 
	Cupid, Cupid!

Pandarus	Love? Ay, that it shall, i'faith.

Paris	Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.

Pandarus	In good troth, it begins so:

	[Sings.]
			Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more!
				For, O, love's bow
				Shoots buck and doe;
				The shaft confounds
				Not that it wounds,
			But tickles still the sore.
			These lovers cry "Oh ho", they die;
				Yet that which seems the wound to kill
			Doth turn "Oh ho" to "Ha, ha, he"
				So dying love lives still.
			"Oh ho" a while, but "Ha, ha, ha"
			"Oh ho" groans out for "Ha, ha, ha"

	Heigh ho!

Helen	In love, i'faith, to the very tip of the nose.

Paris	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 is love.

Pandarus	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 today?

Paris	Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry 
	of Troy. I would fain have armed today, 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.

Pandarus	Not I, honey-sweet queen; I long to hear how they sped 
	today. [To PARIS.] You'll remember your brother's excuse?

Paris	To a hair.

Pandarus	Farewell, sweet queen.

Helen	Commend me to your niece.

Pandarus	I will, sweet queen.
												[Exit.
												[Sound a retreat.

Paris	They're 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 these your white enchanting fingers touched,
	Shall more obey than to the edge of steel
	Or force of Greekish sinews: - you shall do more
	Than all the island kings - disarm 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, overshines ourself.

Paris	Sweet, above thought I love thee.
												[Exeunt.
