Æne.

Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

Pan.

Who's there? my lord Æneas? by my troth, I knew you not; what news with you so early?

Æne.

Is not Prince Troilus here?

Pan.

Here! what should he do here?

Æne.

Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny him. It doth import him much to speak with me.

Pan.

Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be sworn; for my own part, I came in late: what should he do here?

Æne.

Pho!—nay, then:—come, come, you'll do him wrong, ere y'are aware: you'll be so true to him, to be false to him: do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither, go.

Enter Troilus.

Troi.
How now? what's the matter?

Æne.
My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,
My matter is so rash: there is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomede, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.

Troi.
Is it concluded so?

Æne.
By Priam, and the general State of Troy,
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

Troi.
How my atchievements mock me!
I will go meet them; and (my lord Æneas)
We met by chance, you did not find me here.

Æne.
Good, good, my lord; (a) ^note the secretest of natures
Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt.

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