Page. Sir, my lord Troilus would instantly speak with you.
Pand. Where boy, where?
Page. At his own house, if you think convenient.
Pand. Good boy, tell him I come instantly: I doubt he's wounded. Farewell, good niece. But I'll be with you by and by.
Cres. To bring me, uncle!
281 Pand. Ay, a token from prince Troilus.[Exit Pandar.
Cres. By the same token, you are a procurer, uncle.
Cressida alone.
A strange dissembling sex we women are:
Well may we men, when we ourselves deceive.
Long has my secret soul loved Troilus;
I drunk his praises from my uncle's mouth,
As if my ears could ne'er be satisfied:
Why then, why said I not, I love this prince?
How could my tongue conspire against my heart,
To say I loved him not? O childish love!
'Tis like an infant, froward in his play,
And what he most desires, he throws away.[Exit.