Ther. And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff; she's noted. Dio. Will you remember? Cres. Dio. Remember? yes. Nay, but do then; And let your mind be coupled with your words. Ulyss. List! Cres. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly. Ther. Roguery! Dio. Nay, then,— Cres. I'll tell you what: Dio. Pho! pho! come, tell a pin: You are forsworn.Cres. In faith, I cannot: What would you have me do? Ther. A juggling trick, to be-secretly open. Dio. What did you swear you would bestow on me? Cres. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath; Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek. Dio. Good night. Hold, patience! How now, Trojan? Diomed, Dio. No, no, good night: I'll be your fool no more. Tro. Thy better must. Cres. Hark! one word in your ear. Tro. O plague and madness! Ulyss. You are mov'd, prince; let us depart, I pray you, Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself Ulyss. You flow to great destruction; come, my lord. Tro. I pr'ythee, stay. Ulyss Now, good, my lord, go off: You have not patience; come. Tro. I pray you, stay; by hell, and all hell's torments, I will not speak a word. Dio. And so, good night. I will be patient, Cres. Guardian!-why, Greek! Dio. Pho, pho! adieu; you palter, Cres. In faith, I do not; come hither once again. Ulyss. You shake, my lord, at something; will you go? You will break out. Tro. She strokes his cheek! Come, come. Tro. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word: 'There is between my will and all offences, A guard of patience:-stay a little while. Ther. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potatoe finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry! Dio. But will you then? Cres. In faith, I will, la; never trust me else. Ulyss. You have sworn patience. [Exit. Tro. Fear me not, my lord; I will not be myself, nor have cognition Of what I feel; I am all patience. Re-enter CRESSIDA. Ther. Now the pledge; now, now, now! Ulyss My lord, Tro. I will be patient; outwardly I will. Cres. You look upon that sleeve; Behold it well.— He lov'd me-O false wench!-Give't me again. Dio. Who was't? Cres. No matter, now I hav't again. I will not meet with you to-morrow night: I pr'ythee, Diomed, visit me no more. Ther. Now she sharpens;-Well said, whetstone. Ay, that. Cres. O, all you gods!-O pretty, pretty pledge! As I kiss thee.-Nay, do not snatch it from me; Cres. You shall not have it, Diomed; 'faith you shall not; I'll give you something else. Dio. I will have this; Whose was it? Cres. Dio. Come, tell me whose it was. "Tis no matter. Cres. "Twas one's that lov'd me better than you will. But, now you have it, take it. Dio. Whose was it? Cres. By all Diana's waiting-women yonder, And by herself, I will not tell you whose. Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm; And grieve his spirit, that dares not challenge it. Tro. Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on thy horn, It should be challeng'd. Cres. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past;—And yet it is not; I will not keep my word, Dio. Why then, farewell; Thou never shalt mock Diomed again. Cres. You shall not go :-One cannot speak a word, But it straight starts you. I do not like this fooling. Dio. pleases me best. Dio. What, shall I come? the hour? Cres. Ay, come:-O Jove! Farewell till then. Cres. Good night. I pr'ythee, come. [Exit Diomedes. Troilus, farewell! one eye yet looks on thee; [Exit Cressida. It is. Tro. That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears; Was Cressid here? Ulyss I cannot conjure, Trojan. Tro. She was not, sure. Ulyss. Most sure she was. Tro. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness. Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage mothers? Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were she. Ther. Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes? Tro. This she? no, this is Diomed's Cressida: If beauty have a soul, this is not she; If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimony, This was not she. O madness of discourse, The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, Tro. Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well, In characters as red as Mars his heart Inflam'd with Venus: never did young man fancy Hark, Greek ;-As much as I do Cressid love, Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy. Tro. O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false! |