Hect. What would’st thou more? 
Take heed, young man, how you too far provoke me! 
For heaven can witness, ’tis with much constraint
That I preserve my faith.

Troil. Else you would kill me?

Hect. By all the gods I would.

Troil. I’m satisfied. 
You have condemned me, and I’ll do’t myself. 
What’s life to him, who has no use of life? 
A barren purchase, held upon hard terms! 
For I have lost (oh, what have I not lost!)
The fairest, dearest, kindest, of her sex;
And lost her even by him, by him, ye gods! 
Who only could, and only should protect me! 
And if I had a joy beyond that love,
A friend, have lost him too!

Hect. Speak that again,—­
For I could hear it ever,—­saidst thou not,
That if thou hadst a joy beyond that love,
It was a friend?  O, saidst thou not, a friend! 
That doubting if was kind:  then thou’rt divided;
And I have still some part.

Troil. If still you have, You do not care to have it.

Hect. How, not care!

Troil. No, brother, care not.

Hect. Am I but thy brother?

Troil. You told me, I must call you friend no more.

Hect. How far my words were distant from my heart! 
Know, when I told thee so, I loved thee most. 
Alas! it is the use of human frailty,
To fly to worst extremities with those,
To whom we are most kind.

Troil. Is’t possible!  Then you are still my friend.

Hect. Heaven knows I am!

Troil. And can forgive the sallies of my passion? 
For I have been to blame, oh! much to blame;
Have said such words, nay, done such actions too,
(Base as I am!) that my awed conscious soul
Sinks in my breast, nor dare I lift an eye
On him I have offended.

Hect. Peace be to thee,
And calmness ever there.  I blame thee not: 
I know thou lov’st; and what can love not do! 
I cast the wild disorderly account,
Of all thy words and deeds, on that mad passion: 
I pity thee, indeed I pity thee.

Troil. Do, for I need it:  Let me lean my head Upon thy bosom, all my peace dwells there; Thou art some god, or much, much more than man!

Hect. Alas, to lose the joys of all thy youth, One who deserved thy love!

Troil. Did she deserve?

Hect. She did.

Troil. Then sure she was no common creature?

Hect. I said it in my rage; I thought not so.

Troil. That thought has blessed me!  But to lose this love, After long pains, and after short possession!

Hect. I feel it for thee:  Let me go to Priam,
I’ll break this treaty off; or let me fight: 
I’ll be thy champion, and secure both her,
And thee, and Troy.