NESTOR.
Ay, my good son.
DIOMEDES.
Be rul’d by him, Lord Ajax.
ULYSSES.
There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general
To call together all his state of war;
Fresh kings are come to Troy. Tomorrow
We must with all our main of power stand fast;
And here’s a lord—come knights from east to west
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
AGAMEMNON.
Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep.
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.
[Exeunt.]
ACT III
SCENE I. Troy. Priam’s palace.
Music sounds within. Enter Pandarus and a Servant.
PANDARUS.
Friend, you—pray you, a word. Do you not follow the young Lord Paris?
SERVANT.
Ay, sir, when he goes before me.