Æneas. [Within.] My lord, is the lady ready yet?
Troil. Hark, you are called!—Some say, the genius so
325 Cries,—Come, to him who instantly must die.
Pand. Where are my tears? some rain to lay this wind,
Or my heart will be blown up by the roots!
Troil. Hear me, my love! be thou but true, like me.
Cres. I true! how now, what wicked thought is this?
Troil. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us.
I spoke not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
But be thou true, I said, to introduce
My following protestation,—be thou true,
And I will see thee.
Cres. You'll be exposed to dangers.
Troil. I care not; but be true.
Cres. Be true, again?
Troil. Hear why I speak it, love.
The Grecian youths are full of Grecian arts:
Alas! a kind of holy jealousy,
Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,
Makes me afraid how far you may be tempted.