_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
fray’d with a sprite. I’ll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain; she
fetches her breath as short as a new-ta’en sparrow.
Exit
_Troy_. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom.
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse,
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encount’ring
The eye of majesty.