Paris.
See, ho! who is that there?

Dei.
It is the lord Æneas.

Æne.
Is the Prince there in person?
Had I so good occasion to lie long,
As you, Prince Paris, nought but heav'nly business
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio.
That's my mind too: good morrow, lord Æneas.

Par.
A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand;
Witness the process of your speech, wherein(30) ^note

Æne.
Health to you, valiant Sir,
During all question of the gentle Truce:
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio.
The one and th'other Diomede embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm, and so long, health;
But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuit and policy.

Æne.
And thou shalt hunt a lion that will flie(31) ^note

With his face back.—In human gentleness,
Welcome to Troy—now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome, indeed!—by Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.

Dio.
We sympathize.—Jove, let Æneas live
(If to my sword his Fate be not the Glory)
A thousand compleat courses of the Sun:
But in mine emulous honour let him die,
With every joint a wound, and that to morrow.

Æne.
We know each other well.

Dio.
We do; and long to know each other worse.

Par.
This is the most despightful, gentle greeting;
The noblest, hateful love, that e'er I heard of.
What business, lord, so early?

Æne.
I was sent for to the King; but why, I know not.

Par.
His purpose meets you; 'twas, to bring this Greek
To Calchas' house, and there to render him
(For the enfree'd Antenor) the fair Cressid.
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste thee before. I constantly do think,
(Or rather call my thought a certain knowledge)
My brother Troilus lodges there to night.
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality whereof; I fear,
We shall be much unwelcome.

Æne.
That assure you.
Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Cressid borne from Troy.

Par.
There is no help;
The bitter disposition of the time
Will have it so. On, lord, we'll follow you.

Æne.
Good morrow all. [Exit.

Par.
And tell me, noble Diomede; tell me true,
Ev'n in the soul of good sound fellowship,
Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen most?
My self, or Menelaus?

Dio.
Both alike.
He merits well to have her, that doth seek her,
(Not making any scruple of her soilure,)
With such a hell of pain, and world of charge.
And you as well to keep her, that defend her
(Not palating the taste of her dishonour,)
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends.
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece;
You, like a letcher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors:
Both merits pois'd, each weighs no less nor more,
But he as he, which heavier for a whore.

Par.
You are too bitter to your Country-woman.

Dio.
She's bitter to her Country: hear me, Paris,
For ev'ry false drop in her baudy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,

A Trojan hath been slain. Since she could speak,
She hath not giv'n so many good words breath,
As, for her, Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.

Par.
Fair Diomede, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:
But we in silence hold this virtue well;
We'll not commend what we intend to sell.
Here lyes our way. [Exeunt.

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