_Troil._ [_Aside._] Hector said true: I find, I find it now!
_Pand._ And, last of all, comes me Diomede, so demurely: that's a notable sly rogue, I warrant him! mercy upon us, how he laid her on upon the lips! for, as I told you, she's most mightily made on among the Greeks. What, cheer up, I say, man! she has every one's good word. I think, in my conscience, she was born with a caul upon her head.
_Troil._ [_Aside._] Hell, death, confusion, how he tortures me!
_Pand._ And that rogue-priest, my brother, is so courted and treated for her sake: the young sparks do so pull him about, and haul him by the cassock: nothing but invitations to his tent, and his tent, and his tent. Nay, and one of 'em was so bold, as to ask him, if she were a virgin; and with that, the rogue, my brother, takes me up a little god in his hand, and kisses it, and swears devoutly that she was; then was I ready to burst my sides with laughing, to think what had passed betwixt you two.
_Troil._ O I can bear no more! she's falsehood all: False by both kinds; for with her mother's milk She sucked the infusion of her father's soul. She only wants an opportunity; Her soul's a whore already.
_Pand._ What, would you make a monopoly of a woman's lips? a little consolation, or so, might be allowed, one would think, in a lover's absence.
_Troil._ Hence from my sight! Let ignominy brand thy hated name; Let modest matrons at thy mention start; And blushing virgins, when they read our annals, Skip o'er the guilty page that holds thy legend, And blots the noble work.
_Pand._ O world, world: thou art an ungrateful patch of earth! Thus the poor agent is despised! he labours painfully in his calling, and trudges between parties: but when their turns are served, come out's too good for him. I am mighty melancholy. I'll e'en go home, and shut up my doors, and die o' the sullens, like an old bird in a cage! [_Exit_ PANDARUS.
_Thers._ [_Aside._] There, there he is; now let it work: now play thy part, jealousy, and twinge 'em: put 'em between thy mill-stones, and grind the rogues together.
_Diom._ My lord, I am by Ajax sent to inform you, This hour must end the truce.
_Æn._ to _Troil._ Contain yourself: Think where we are.
_Thers._ [_Aside._] Well said, Trojan: there's the first hit.