William Shakespeare: The History of Troilus and Cressida

ACT III. SCENE 1. Troy. PRIAM'S palace (continued)

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.