Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you[1567]
have, sweet queen.
Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord
Paris.
Pan. He! no, she'll none of him; they two are twain.[1568] 95
Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.
Pan. 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,[1569]
thou hast a fine forehead. 100
Pan. Ay, you may, you may.[1570]
Helen. Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all.
O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!
Pan. Love! ay, that it shall, i'faith.
Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love. 105