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

Ser.
No, Sir, ^{2 note}he prays 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 lilly 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, and too sharp in sweetness,

For the capacity of my rude 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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