Hect. The bitter disposition of the time
Is such, though Calchas, as a fugitive,
Deserve it not, that we must free Antenor,
On whose wise counsels we can most rely;
And therefore Cressida must be returned.
312 Æn. A word, my lord—Your pardon, Diomede—
Your brother Troilus, to my certain knowledge,
Does lodge this night in Pandarus's house.
Hect. Go you before. Tell him of our approach,
Which will, I fear, be much unwelcome to him.
Æn. I assure you,
Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Cressida from Troy.
Hect. I know it well; and how he is, beside,
Of hasty blood.
Æn. He will not hear me speak;
But I have noted long betwixt you two
A more than brother's love; an awful homage
The fiery youth pays to your elder virtue.
Hect. Leave it to me; I'll manage him alone;
Attend you Diomede.—My lord, good-morrow;[To Diom.
An urgent business takes me from the pleasure
Your company affords me; but Æneas,
With joy, will undertake to serve you here,
And to supply my room.
Æn. [To Diom.] My lord, I wait you. [Exeunt severally; Diomede with Æneas, Hector at another Door.
Enter Pandarus, a Servant, Music.
Pand. Softly, villain, softly; I would not for half Troy the lovers should be disturbed under my roof: listen, rogue, listen; do they breathe?