“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-”