Pand. Nay, I was tortured too; old as I am, I was tortured too:  but for all that, I could make a shift, to make him, to make your excuse, to make your father—­by Jove, when I think of that hand, I am so ravished, that I know not what I say:  I was tortured too.
                                   [TROILUS turns away discontented.
Well, I go, I go; I fetch her, I bring her, I conduct her; not come quotha, and I her uncle! [Exit PANDARUS.

Troil. I’m giddy; expectation whirls me round: 
The imaginary relish is so sweet,
That it enchants my sense; what will it be,
When I shall taste that nectar? 
It must be either death, or joy too fine
For the capacity of human powers. 
I fear it much:  and I do fear beside,
That I shall lose distinction in my joys;
As does a battle, when they charge on heaps
A flying enemy.

  Re-enter PANDARUS.

Pand. She’s making her ready; she’ll come strait:  you must be witty now!—­she does so blush, and fetches her breath so short, as if she were frighted with a sprite; ’tis the prettiest villain! she fetches her breath so short, as ’twere a new-ta’en sparrow.

Troil. Just such a passion does heave up my breast! 
My heart beats thicker than a feverish pulse: 
I know not where I am, nor what I do;
Just like a slave, at unawares encountering
The eye of majesty.—­Lead on, I’ll follow. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—­The Camp.

  Enter NESTOR, and ULYSSES.

Ulys. I have conceived an embryo in my brain:  Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

Nest. What is’t, Ulysses?

Ulys. The seeded pride,
That has to this maturity blown up
In rank Achilles, must or now be cropped,
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like ill,
To overtop us all.

Nest. That’s my opinion.

Ulys. This challenge which AEneas brings from Hector,
However it be spread in general terms,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles. 
And will it wake him to the answer, think you?

Nest. It ought to do:  whom can we else oppose,
Who could from Hector bring his honour off,
If not Achilles? the success of this,
Although particular, will give an omen
Of good or bad, even to the general cause.

Ulys. Pardon me, Nestor, if I contradict you: 
Therefore ’tis fit Achilles meet not Hector. 
Let us, like merchants, show our coarsest wares,
And think, perchance they’ll sell; but, if they do not,
The lustre of our better, yet unshown,
Will show the better:  let us not consent,
Our greatest warrior should be matched with Hector;
For both our honour and our shame in this
Shall be attended with strange followers.

Nest. I see them not with my old eyes; what are they?