Æne.
How now, Prince Troilus? wherefore not a field?

Troi.
Because not there. This woman's answer sorts,
For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Æneas, from the field to day?

Æne.
That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

Troi.
By whom, Æneas?

Æne.
Troilus, by Menelaus.

Troi.
Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorn;
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarm.

Æne.
Hark, what good sport is out of town today?

Troi.
Better at home, if would I might, were may—
But to the sport abroad—are you bound thither?

Æne.
In all swift haste.

Troi.
Come, go we then together. [Exeunt.

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