TROILUS.
Walk into her house.
I’ll bring her to the Grecian presently;
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there off’ring to it his own heart.
[Exit.]
PARIS.
I know what ’tis to love,
And would, as I shall pity, I could help!
Please you walk in, my lords?
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. Troy. Pandarus’ house.
Enter Pandarus and Cressida.
PANDARUS.
Be moderate, be moderate.
CRESSIDA.
Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong
As that which causeth it. How can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affections
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief.
My love admits no qualifying dross;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
Enter Troilus.
PANDARUS.
Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks!