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.