A palace enclosure. At each corner a view of the sea. In the middle
a monument, the Gates of War. They are wide open.

Helen and young Troilus.

HELEN: You, you, hey! You down there! Yes, it's you I'm
calling. Come here.

TROILUS: No.

HELEN: What is your name?

TROILUS: Troilus.

HELEN: Come here.

TROILUS: No.

HELEN: Come here, Troilus! (Troilus draws near.) That's the
way. You obey when you're called by your name: you are
still very like a puppy. It's rather beguiling. Do you know
you have made me call out to a man for the first time in my
life. They keep so close to my side I have only usually to
move my lips. I have called out to sea-gulls, to dogs, to the
echoes, but never before to a man. You will pay for that.
What's the matter? Are you trembling?

TROILUS: No, I'm not.

HELEN: You tremble, Troilus.

TROILUS: Yes, I do.

HELEN: Why are you always just behind me? If I walk with
my back to the sun and suddenly stop, the head of your
shadow stubs itself against my feet. That doesn't matter, as
long as it doesn't overshoot them. Tell me what you want.

TROILUS: I don't want anything.

HELEN: Tell me what you want, Troilus!

TROILUS: Everything! I want everything!

HELEN: You want everything. The moon?

TROILUS: Everything! Everything and more!

HELEN: You're beginning to talk like a real man already; you
want to kiss me!

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