Pan.
Now, where's thy master? at my cousin Cressida's?

Serv.
No, Sir, he stays for you to conduct him thither. Enter Troilus.

Pan.
O, here he comes. How now, how now?

Troi.
Sirrah, walk off.

Pan.
Have you seen my cousin?

Troi.
No, Pandarus, I stalk about her door,
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the lily beds
Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Cressid.

Pan.
Walk here i' th' orchard. I will bring her straight. [Exit Pandarus.

Troi.
I'm giddy; expectation whirls me round;
Th' imaginary relish is so sweet,
That it enchants my sense; what will it be,
When that the watry palate tastes, indeed,
Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me;
Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine,
Too subtle-potent, ^{3 note}
tun'd too sharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my ruder powers;
I fear it much, and I do fear besides,
That I shall lose distinction in my joys;
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
The flying enemy. Re-enter Pandarus.

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 fraid with a sprite. I'll bring her. It is the prettiest villain. She fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en sparrow.

Troi.
Ev'n such a passion doth embrace my bosom:
My heart beats thicker than a fev'rous pulse;
And all my pow'rs do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encountring
The eye of Majesty.

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