READ STUDY GUIDE: Act III |
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Act III, Scene i:
Troy. PRIAM'S palace
Troy. PRIAM'S palace
| [Music sounds within. Enter PANDARUS and a SERVANT.] |
| PANDARUS.: |
| Friend, you—pray you, a word. Do you not 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 notable 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 is there in person; with him the mortal Venus, |
| the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible 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.: |
| Sodden business! There's a stew'd phrase indeed! |
| [Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended.] |
| 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. |
| HELEN.: |
| 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 to-night? |
| 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's 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, oh, love's bow |
| Shoots buck and doe; |
| The shaft confounds |
| Not that it wounds, |
| But tickles still the sore. |
| These lovers cry, O ho, they die! |
| Yet that which seems the wound to kill |
| Doth turn O ho! to ha! ha! he! |
| So dying love lives still. |
| O ho! a while, but ha! ha! ha! |
| O ho! groans out for ha! ha! ha!-hey 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 a-field today? |
| PARIS.: |
| Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry |
| of Troy. I would fain have arm'd to-day, but my Nell would not |
| have it so. How chance my brothe |
| HELEN.: |
| He hangs the lip at something. You know all, Lord Pandarus. |
| PANDARUS.: |
| Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they spend |
| to-day. 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 the 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 touch'd, |
| 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 |
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