Enter Paris, Troilus, Aeneas, Deiphobus, Antenor,
It is great morning, and the hour prefixed
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And haste her to the purpose.
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 offering to it his own heart.
I know what 'tis to love;
And would, as I shall pity, I could help. –
Please you walk in, my lords.