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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?
Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy: I would fain have arm'd today, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance ray brother Troilus went not?
Helen. He hangs the lip at something; — you know all, lord Pandarus.
Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen. — I long to hear how they sped to-day. — You'll remember your brother's excuse?
Par. To a hair.
Pan. Farewell, sweet queen.
Helen. Commend me to your niece.
Pan. I will, sweet queen. [E.rrt.
[A retreat sounded.
Par. They are come from field: let us to Priam's
hall, To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo
To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,
Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant
Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee. [Exeunt.
SCENE IT. ' .
The Same. Pandarus' Orchard.
Pan. How now? where's thy master? at my cousin Cressida's?
Scrv. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither.
Pan. O, here he comes.—How now, how now?
Tro. Sirrah, walk off. [Etit Servant.
Pan. Have you seen my cousin?
Tro. No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door,
Pan. Walk here i'the orchard, I'll bring her straight.
Tro. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense; What will it be,
Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come straight: you must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as if she were fray'd with a sprite: I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain:—she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en sparrow.
Tro. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom: My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse; And all my powers do their bestowing lose, Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring The eye of majesty.
Enter Panbarus and Cbessida.
Pan. Come, come, what need you blush? shame's a baby.—Here she is now: swear the oaths now to her, that you have sworn to me.—What, are you gone again? you must be watch'd ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw backward, we'll put you i'the fills. — Why do you not speak to her? — Come, draw this curtain, and let's see your picture. Alas the day, how loath you are to offend day-light! an 'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress. How now, a kiss in fee-farm! build there, carpenter; the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out, ere I part yon. The faulcon as the tercel86, for all the ducks i'the river: go to, go to.
Tro. You have bereft me of all words, lady.
Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but she'll bereave you of the deeds too, if she call your activity in question. What, billing again? Here's — Jn witness whereof the parties interchangeably — Come in, come in; I'll go get a fire. [Exit Pandarus.
Cres. Will you walk in, my lord >
Tro. O Cressida, how often have I wish'd me thus?
Cm. Wish'd, my lord? — the gods grant!— O my lord!
Tro. What should they grant? what makes this pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
Cir*. More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.
Tro. Fears make devils of cherubins; they never »ee truly.
Cres. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: To fear the worst, oft cures the worst.
Tro. O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster.
Cm. Nor nothing monstrous neither?
Tro. Nothing, but our undertakings; when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough, than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady,—that the will is infinite, and the execution confined; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.
Cres. They say, all lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions, and the act of hares, are they not monsters?
Tro. Are there such? such are not we: Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go bare, till merit crown it: no perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present: we will not name desert, before his birth; and, being born, his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith: Troilus shall be such to Cressid, as what envy can say worst, shall be a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest, not truer than Troilus.
Cres. Will you walk in, my lord?
Pan. What, blushing still? have you not done talking yet?