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most unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses : he will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell it; it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun borrows of the moon, when Diomed keeps his word. I will rather leave to see Hector, than not to dog him: they say, he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent: I'll after. Nothing but lechery! all incontinent varlets!
The Same. Before Calchas' Tent.
Dio. What are you up here, ho? speak.
Dio. Diomed.-Calchas, I think.—Where's your daughter?
Cal. [IVithin.] She comes to you. Enter Troilus and Ulysses, at a distance; after
Ulyss. Stand where the torch may not discover us.
Enter CRESSIDA. Tro. Cressid come forth to him! Dio.
How now, my charge?
Cres. Now, my sweet guardian!-Hark! a word
[Whispers. Tro. Yea, so familiar ! Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sight.
Ther. And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff'; she's noted.
Dio. Will you remember?
Nay, but do then; And let your mind be coupled with your
I'll tell you what:-
Sworn.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
Cres. I pr’ythee, do not hold me to mine oath;
Dio. Good night.
How row, 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. Behold, I pray you !
Now, my good lord, go off: You flow to great destruction; come, my lord.
Tro. I pr’ythee, stay.
You have not patience ; come. Tro. I pray you, stay ; by hell, and all hell's tore
And so, good night.
Doth that grieve thee?
Why, how now, lord ? Tro.
By Jove, 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.
She strokes his cheek!
Ther. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potatoe finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry!
Dio. But will you then ?
Fear me not, my lord;
My lord, -
Cres. You look upon that sleeve ; Behold it well. — He lov'd me-O false wench !-Give't me again.
Dio. Whose was't?
No matter, now I have't again.
Ther. Now she sharpens ;–Well said, whetstone.