Paris: Yeah, that’s exactly right! He just stopped dead and stood around, so I thought it would be a great time to make my get-away. Wasn't that great? I liked the part about my halo. (He cranes his neck in a vain attempt to see one)

Hector: A warrior doesn’t hide his face from battle!

Paris: Well, maybe I’m not a warrior, then.

Hector: You tell me?

The Chorus returns to their normal position.

Paris: But everyone’s glad to see me back, right?

Hector: Yeah... sure.

Helen: Of course I am.

Hector: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll return to the battlefield. I feel like doing something manly. Maybe even something worth doing. Certainly something—

Paris: I know, I know! We’ve gone through this! Exit Hector.

Pause.

Paris: Helen?

Helen: Yes, Paris?

Paris: You love me, don’t you?

Helen: Of course. (She moves to exit.)

Paris: I’m not stupid.

She pauses and turns.

Paris: Or at least, not as stupid as Hector says I am. And you can’t manipulate me as well as you think. I know. I know, all right? So why do you play these mean games with me? I’m not the villain here, Helen. I didn’t... I didn’t take you by force. I asked you to come with me, and you agreed! You promised! So why did you come if it’s just to pine for Menelaus?

Helen: Paris... I love you.

Paris: As what? As a mother loves her three-year-old son?

Helen: The same way... the same way that Zeus loves Hera.

Paris: As an abusive drunk towards a shrewish wife?!

Helen: As my lover.

Paris: Teehee! You said lover!

Helen: All right, now I love you as a three-year-old son. Oh, Paris. Have you ever felt... Have you ever felt like you exist in two places at once? That you have two minds, two souls, and two hearts? Sometimes I have two different lives—one here, with you, and the other back in Sparta; each life has their own separate cast of characters. And both of my husbands are so wonderful, so brave and bright that I know I don’t deserve either.

Paris: I got to shoot people with my arrows! (As he practices his moves)

Helen: I, a worthless harlot, have sparked a torrent of blood beyond my meagre understanding. How many bodies glut Scamander because of me? Nine years, and the two most powerful forces on the Earth slay each other over a stupid, wicked trollop.

Paris: An’ I ran around, and I was fast, and, and no one could catch me ‘cause I was fast. I sure was fast!

Helen: Paris, you’re the only one in this harsh world who loves me. Please don’t hate me for what I am! I’m so sorry I upset you. Forgive me, forgive me my love!

Paris: Hey, maybe you could come and watch some time.

Helen: You’re so generous. I don’t know what to say.

Paris: But I’d better ask Hector first. He gets pretty mad at me.

Helen: Of course, darling.

Exit Paris. Once he’s out of sight, Helen starts to softly cry.

Helen (quietly): I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...

Enter Priam.

Priam: What cheer, fair one! Oh, come, my dear. What’s the matter?

Helen: Your majesty. I didn’t mean to disturb you, King Priam.

Priam: No apologies! Come here. That’s better, now, isn’t it? Why don’t you tell me all about it?

Helen: I love Paris.

Priam: Well, so far, so good.

Helen: I also love Menelaus.

Priam: I know.

Helen: You do?

Priam: Of course! Every time someone mentions his name you shine like a torch. Even if you're Spartan, it’s obvious you’re no stoic. Oh, don’t worry. Everyone knows it’s possible to be in love with more than one person at the same time. Think of Zeus the Thunderer! Who can name the women he’s fallen in love with? I myself have Queen Hecuba, and a few dozen concubines besides. Compared to me, my dear, you’re monogamous.

Helen: But you chose one out of all those women to become your Queen. Even Zeus has Hera.

Priam: Yes, that’s true. And I expect you’ll have to choose one of them, too.

Helen: I don’t know what Paris or Soldier would think of becoming my concubine. Besides, I don’t know which one to pick.

Priam: Now I should say something like "your heart will find a way." Well, maybe it will. But it doesn’t have to. You see, one of them will kill the other. They’ll decide for you! There, doesn’t that make you feel better?

Helen: No!

Priam: Besides, I thought you loved Paris the way a mother loves her three-year-old son.

Helen: Well, sometimes...

Priam: Go on...

Helen glances at him, then crosses downstage.