Speeches (Lines) for Cressida in "Troilus and Cressida"

Troilus. Come, go we then together.

Cressida. Who were those went by?

Alexander. Queen Hecuba and Helen.

Cressida. And whither go they?

Alexander. Up to the eastern tower,
Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was moved:
He chid Andromache and struck his armourer,
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the sun rose he was harness'd light,
And to the field goes he; where every flower
Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw
In Hector's wrath.

Cressida. What was his cause of anger?

Alexander. The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;
They call him Ajax.

Cressida. Good; and what of him?

Alexander. They say he is a very man per se,
And stands alone.

Cressida. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs.

Alexander. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their
particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion,
churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man
into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his
valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with
discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he
hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he
carries some stain of it: he is melancholy without
cause, and merry against the hair: he hath the
joints of every thing, but everything so out of joint
that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use,
or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.

Cressida. But how should this man, that makes
me smile, make Hector angry?

Alexander. They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and
struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath
ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.

Cressida. Who comes here?

Alexander. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.

Cressida. Hector's a gallant man.

Pandarus. What's that? what's that?

Cressida. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Pandarus. Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of?
Good morrow, Alexander. How do you, cousin? When
were you at Ilium?

Cressida. This morning, uncle.

Pandarus. What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector
armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not
up, was she?

Cressida. Hector was gone, but Helen was not up.

Pandarus. Even so: Hector was stirring early.

Cressida. That were we talking of, and of his anger.

Pandarus. Was he angry?

Cressida. So he says here.

Pandarus. True, he was so: I know the cause too: he'll lay
about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there's
Troilus will not come far behind him: let them take
heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too.

Cressida. What, is he angry too?

Pandarus. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.

Cressida. O Jupiter! there's no comparison.

Pandarus. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a
man if you see him?

Cressida. Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him.

Pandarus. Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.

Cressida. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector.

Pandarus. No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees.

Cressida. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself.

Pandarus. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were.

Cressida. So he is.

Pandarus. Condition, I had gone barefoot to India.

Cressida. He is not Hector.

Pandarus. Himself! no, he's not himself: would a' were
himself! Well, the gods are above; time must friend
or end: well, Troilus, well: I would my heart were
in her body. No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.

Cressida. Excuse me.

Pandarus. He is elder.

Cressida. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pandarus. Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me another
tale, when th' other's come to't. Hector shall not
have his wit this year.

Cressida. He shall not need it, if he have his own.

Pandarus. Nor his qualities.

Cressida. No matter.

Pandarus. Nor his beauty.

Cressida. 'Twould not become him; his own's better.

Pandarus. You have no judgment, niece: Helen
herself swore th' other day, that Troilus, for
a brown favour--for so 'tis, I must confess,--
not brown neither,--

Cressida. No, but brown.

Pandarus. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.

Cressida. To say the truth, true and not true.

Pandarus. She praised his complexion above Paris.

Cressida. Why, Paris hath colour enough.

Pandarus. So he has.

Cressida. Then Troilus should have too much: if she praised
him above, his complexion is higher than his; he
having colour enough, and the other higher, is too
flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as
lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for
a copper nose.

Pandarus. I swear to you. I think Helen loves him better than Paris.

Cressida. Then she's a merry Greek indeed.

Pandarus. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other
day into the compassed window,--and, you know, he
has not past three or four hairs on his chin,--

Cressida. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his
particulars therein to a total.

Pandarus. Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within
three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector.

Cressida. Is he so young a man and so old a lifter?

Pandarus. But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came
and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin--

Cressida. Juno have mercy! how came it cloven?

Pandarus. Why, you know 'tis dimpled: I think his smiling
becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.

Cressida. O, he smiles valiantly.

Pandarus. Does he not?

Cressida. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.

Pandarus. Why, go to, then: but to prove to you that Helen
loves Troilus,--

Cressida. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll
prove it so.

Pandarus. Troilus! why, he esteems her no more than I esteem
an addle egg.

Cressida. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle
head, you would eat chickens i' the shell.

Pandarus. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled
his chin: indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I
must needs confess,--

Cressida. Without the rack.

Pandarus. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.

Cressida. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.

Pandarus. But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed
that her eyes ran o'er.

Cressida. With mill-stones.

Pandarus. And Cassandra laughed.

Cressida. But there was more temperate fire under the pot of
her eyes: did her eyes run o'er too?

Pandarus. And Hector laughed.

Cressida. At what was all this laughing?

Pandarus. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin.

Cressida. An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed
too.

Pandarus. They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer.

Cressida. What was his answer?

Pandarus. Quoth she, 'Here's but two and fifty hairs on your
chin, and one of them is white.

Cressida. This is her question.

Pandarus. That's true; make no question of that. 'Two and
fifty hairs' quoth he, 'and one white: that white
hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons.'
'Jupiter!' quoth she, 'which of these hairs is Paris,
my husband? 'The forked one,' quoth he, 'pluck't
out, and give it him.' But there was such laughing!
and Helen so blushed, an Paris so chafed, and all the
rest so laughed, that it passed.

Cressida. So let it now; for it has been while going by.

Pandarus. Well, cousin. I told you a thing yesterday; think on't.

Cressida. So I do.

Pandarus. I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, an 'twere
a man born in April.

Cressida. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle
against May.

Pandarus. Hark! they are coming from the field: shall we
stand up here, and see them as they pass toward
Ilium? good niece, do, sweet niece Cressida.

Cressida. At your pleasure.

Pandarus. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may
see most bravely: I'll tell you them all by their
names as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest.

Cressida. Speak not so loud.

Pandarus. That's AEneas: is not that a brave man? he's one of
the flowers of Troy, I can tell you: but mark
Troilus; you shall see anon.

Cressida. Who's that?

Pandarus. That's Antenor: he has a shrewd wit, I can tell you;
and he's a man good enough, he's one o' the soundest
judgments in whosoever, and a proper man of person.
When comes Troilus? I'll show you Troilus anon: if
he see me, you shall see him nod at me.

Cressida. Will he give you the nod?

Pandarus. You shall see.

Cressida. If he do, the rich shall have more.

Pandarus. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a
fellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man,
niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks! there's
a countenance! is't not a brave man?

Cressida. O, a brave man!

Pandarus. Is a' not? it does a man's heart good. Look you
what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do
you see? look you there: there's no jesting;
there's laying on, take't off who will, as they say:
there be hacks!

Cressida. Be those with swords?

Pandarus. Swords! any thing, he cares not; an the devil come
to him, it's all one: by God's lid, it does one's
heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris.
[PARIS passes]
Look ye yonder, niece; is't not a gallant man too,
is't not? Why, this is brave now. Who said he came
hurt home to-day? he's not hurt: why, this will do
Helen's heart good now, ha! Would I could see
Troilus now! You shall see Troilus anon.

Cressida. Who's that?

Pandarus. That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That's
Helenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus.

Cressida. Can Helenus fight, uncle?

Pandarus. Helenus? no. Yes, he'll fight indifferent well. I
marvel where Troilus is. Hark! do you not hear the
people cry 'Troilus'? Helenus is a priest.

Cressida. What sneaking fellow comes yonder?

Pandarus. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus!
there's a man, niece! Hem! Brave Troilus! the
prince of chivalry!

Cressida. Peace, for shame, peace!

Pandarus. Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon
him, niece: look you how his sword is bloodied, and
his helm more hacked than Hector's, and how he looks,
and how he goes! O admirable youth! he ne'er saw
three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way!
Had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess,
he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris?
Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to
change, would give an eye to boot.

Cressida. Here come more.

Pandarus. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran!
porridge after meat! I could live and die i' the
eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look: the eagles
are gone: crows and daws, crows and daws! I had
rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and
all Greece.

Cressida. There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.

Pandarus. Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very camel.

Cressida. Well, well.

Pandarus. 'Well, well!' why, have you any discretion? have
you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not
birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood,
learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality,
and such like, the spice and salt that season a man?

Cressida. Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked with no date
in the pie, for then the man's date's out.

Pandarus. You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you
lie.

Cressida. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to
defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine
honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to
defend all these: and at all these wards I lie, at a
thousand watches.

Pandarus. Say one of your watches.

Cressida. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the
chiefest of them too: if I cannot ward what I would
not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took
the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it's
past watching.

Pandarus. Good boy, tell him I come.
[Exit boy]
I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.

Cressida. Adieu, uncle.

Pandarus. I'll be with you, niece, by and by.

Cressida. To bring, uncle?

Pandarus. Ay, a token from Troilus.

Cressida. By the same token, you are a bawd.
[Exit PANDARUS]
Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice,
He offers in another's enterprise;
But more in Troilus thousand fold I see
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be;
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing:
Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing.
That she beloved knows nought that knows not this:
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is:
That she was never yet that ever knew
Love got so sweet as when desire did sue.
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach:
Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech:
Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.

Pandarus. Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but she'll
bereave you o' the deeds too, if she call your
activity in question. What, billing again? Here's
'In witness whereof the parties interchangeably'--
Come in, come in: I'll go get a fire.

Cressida. Will you walk in, my lord?

Troilus. O Cressida, how often have I wished me thus!

Cressida. Wished, my lord! The gods grant,--O my lord!

Troilus. What should they grant? what makes this pretty
abruption? What too curious dreg espies my sweet
lady in the fountain of our love?

Cressida. More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes.

Troilus. Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly.

Cressida. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer
footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: to
fear the worst oft cures the worse.

Troilus. O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in all Cupid's
pageant there is presented no monster.

Cressida. Nor nothing monstrous neither?

Troilus. Nothing, but our undertakings; when we vow to weep
seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking
it harder for our mistress to devise imposition
enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed.
This is the monstruosity in love, lady, that the will
is infinite and the execution confined, that the
desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.

Cressida. They say all lovers swear more performance than they
are able and yet reserve an ability that they never
perform, vowing more than the perfection of ten and
discharging less than the tenth part of one. They
that have the voice of lions and the act of hares,
are they not monsters?

Troilus. Are there such? such are not we: praise us as we
are tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go
bare till merit crown it: no perfection in reversion
shall have a praise in present: we will not name
desert before his birth, and, being born, his addition
shall be humble. Few words to fair faith: Troilus
shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst
shall be a mock for his truth, and what truth can
speak truest not truer than Troilus.

Cressida. Will you walk in, my lord?

Pandarus. What, blushing still? have you not done talking yet?

Cressida. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.

Pandarus. Nay, I'll give my word for her too: our kindred,
though they be long ere they are wooed, they are
constant being won: they are burs, I can tell you;
they'll stick where they are thrown.

Cressida. Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart.
Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day
For many weary months.

Troilus. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?

Cressida. Hard to seem won: but I was won, my lord,
With the first glance that ever--pardon me--
If I confess much, you will play the tyrant.
I love you now; but not, till now, so much
But I might master it: in faith, I lie;
My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown
Too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools!
Why have I blabb'd? who shall be true to us,
When we are so unsecret to ourselves?
But, though I loved you well, I woo'd you not;
And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man,
Or that we women had men's privilege
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue,
For in this rapture I shall surely speak
The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence,
Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws
My very soul of counsel! stop my mouth.

Pandarus. Pretty, i' faith.

Cressida. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me;
'Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss:
I am ashamed. O heavens! what have I done?
For this time will I take my leave, my lord.

Pandarus. Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning,--

Cressida. Pray you, content you.

Troilus. What offends you, lady?

Cressida. Sir, mine own company.

Troilus. You cannot shun Yourself.

Cressida. Let me go and try:
I have a kind of self resides with you;
But an unkind self, that itself will leave,
To be another's fool. I would be gone:
Where is my wit? I know not what I speak.

Troilus. Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely.

Cressida. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love;
And fell so roundly to a large confession,
To angle for your thoughts: but you are wise,
Or else you love not, for to be wise and love
Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.

Troilus. O that I thought it could be in a woman--
As, if it can, I will presume in you--
To feed for aye her ramp and flames of love;
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,
Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind
That doth renew swifter than blood decays!
Or that persuasion could but thus convince me,
That my integrity and truth to you
Might be affronted with the match and weight
Of such a winnow'd purity in love;
How were I then uplifted! but, alas!
I am as true as truth's simplicity
And simpler than the infancy of truth.

Cressida. In that I'll war with you.

Troilus. O virtuous fight,
When right with right wars who shall be most right!
True swains in love shall in the world to come
Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes,
Full of protest, of oath and big compare,
Want similes, truth tired with iteration,
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon,
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre,
Yet, after all comparisons of truth,
As truth's authentic author to be cited,
'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse,
And sanctify the numbers.

Cressida. Prophet may you be!
If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
When time is old and hath forgot itself,
When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy,
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,
And mighty states characterless are grated
To dusty nothing, yet let memory,
From false to false, among false maids in love,
Upbraid my falsehood! when they've said 'as false
As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son,'
'Yea,' let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
'As false as Cressid.'

Troilus. Amen.

Cressida. Amen.

Troilus. Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn is cold.

Cressida. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down;
He shall unbolt the gates.

Troilus. Trouble him not;
To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses
As infants' empty of all thought!

Cressida. Good morrow, then.

Troilus. I prithee now, to bed.

Cressida. Are you a-weary of me?

Troilus. O Cressida! but that the busy day,
Waked by the lark, hath roused the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
I would not from thee.

Cressida. Night hath been too brief.

Troilus. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays
As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
You will catch cold, and curse me.

Cressida. Prithee, tarry:
You men will never tarry.
O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark!
there's one up.

Troilus. It is your uncle.

Cressida. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking:
I shall have such a life!

Pandarus. How now, how now! how go maidenheads? Here, you
maid! where's my cousin Cressid?

Cressida. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!
You bring me to do, and then you flout me too.

Pandarus. To do what? to do what? let her say
what: what have I brought you to do?

Cressida. Come, come, beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good,
Nor suffer others.

Pandarus. Ha! ha! Alas, poor wretch! ah, poor capocchia!
hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty
man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him!

Cressida. Did not I tell you? Would he were knock'd i' the head!
[Knocking within]
Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see.
My lord, come you again into my chamber:
You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.

Troilus. Ha, ha!

Cressida. Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing.
[Knocking within]
How earnestly they knock! Pray you, come in:
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.

Pandarus. Is't possible? no sooner got but lost? The devil
take Antenor! the young prince will go mad: a
plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke 's neck!

Cressida. How now! what's the matter? who was here?

Pandarus. Ah, ah!

Cressida. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord? gone!
Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pandarus. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above!

Cressida. O the gods! what's the matter?

Pandarus. Prithee, get thee in: would thou hadst ne'er been
born! I knew thou wouldst be his death. O, poor
gentleman! A plague upon Antenor!

Cressida. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees! beseech you,
what's the matter?

Pandarus. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou
art changed for Antenor: thou must to thy father,
and be gone from Troilus: 'twill be his death;
'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.

Cressida. O you immortal gods! I will not go.

Pandarus. Thou must.

Cressida. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;
I know no touch of consanguinity;
No kin no love, no blood, no soul so near me
As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep,--

Pandarus. Do, do.

Cressida. Tear my bright hair and scratch my praised cheeks,
Crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy.

Pandarus. Be moderate, be moderate.

Cressida. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong
As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief.
My love admits no qualifying dross;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Pandarus. Here, here, here he comes.
[Enter TROILUS]
Ah, sweet ducks!

Cressida. O Troilus! Troilus!

Troilus. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity,
That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy,
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me.

Cressida. Have the gods envy?

Pandarus. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case.

Cressida. And is it true that I must go from Troy?

Troilus. A hateful truth.

Cressida. What, and from Troilus too?

Troilus. From Troy and Troilus.

Cressida. Is it possible?

Pandarus. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or
my heart will be blown up by the root.

Cressida. I must then to the Grecians?

Troilus. No remedy.

Cressida. A woful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks!
When shall we see again?

Troilus. Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart,--

Cressida. I true! how now! what wicked deem is this?

Troilus. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us:
I speak not 'be thou true,' as fearing thee,
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart:
But 'be thou true,' say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation; be thou true,
And I will see thee.

Cressida. O, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers
As infinite as imminent! but I'll be true.

Troilus. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.

Cressida. And you this glove. When shall I see you?

Troilus. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet be true.

Cressida. O heavens! 'be true' again!

Troilus. Hear while I speak it, love:
The Grecian youths are full of quality;
They're loving, well composed with gifts of nature,
Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise:
How novelty may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy--
Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin--
Makes me afeard.

Cressida. O heavens! you love me not.

Troilus. Die I a villain, then!
In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:
But I can tell that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil
That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.

Cressida. Do you think I will?

Troilus. Good brother, come you hither;
And bring AEneas and the Grecian with you.

Cressida. My lord, will you be true?

Menelaus. I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave.

Cressida. In kissing, do you render or receive?

Patroclus. Both take and give.

Cressida. I'll make my match to live,
The kiss you take is better than you give;
Therefore no kiss.

Menelaus. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.

Cressida. You're an odd man; give even or give none.

Menelaus. An odd man, lady! every man is odd.

Cressida. No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true,
That you are odd, and he is even with you.

Menelaus. You fillip me o' the head.

Cressida. No, I'll be sworn.

Ulysses. It were no match, your nail against his horn.
May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?

Cressida. You may.

Ulysses. I do desire it.

Cressida. Why, beg, then.

Ulysses. Why then for Venus' sake, give me a kiss,
When Helen is a maid again, and his.

Cressida. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due.

Diomedes. How now, my charge!

Cressida. Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a word with you.

Diomedes. Will you remember?

Cressida. Remember! yes.

Ulysses. List.

Cressida. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.

Diomedes. Nay, then,--

Cressida. I'll tell you what,--

Diomedes. Foh, foh! come, tell a pin: you are forsworn.

Cressida. In faith, I cannot: what would you have me do?

Diomedes. What did you swear you would bestow on me?

Cressida. I prithee, do not hold me to mine oath;
Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.

Ulysses. How now, Trojan!

Cressida. Diomed,--

Troilus. Thy better must.

Cressida. Hark, one word in your ear.

Diomedes. And so, good night.

Cressida. Nay, but you part in anger.

Troilus. By Jove,
I will be patient.

Cressida. Guardian!--why, Greek!

Diomedes. Foh, foh! adieu; you palter.

Cressida. In faith, I do not: come hither once again.

Diomedes. But will you, then?

Cressida. In faith, I will, la; never trust me else.

Diomedes. Give me some token for the surety of it.

Cressida. I'll fetch you one.

Thersites. Now the pledge; now, now, now!

Cressida. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.

Troilus. I will be patient; outwardly I will.

Cressida. You look upon that sleeve; behold it well.
He loved me--O false wench!--Give't me again.

Diomedes. Whose was't?

Cressida. It is no matter, now I have't again.
I will not meet with you to-morrow night:
I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more.

Diomedes. I shall have it.

Cressida. What, this?

Diomedes. Ay, that.

Cressida. O, all you gods! O pretty, pretty pledge!
Thy master now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove,
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it,
As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me;
He that takes that doth take my heart withal.

Troilus. I did swear patience.

Cressida. You shall not have it, Diomed; faith, you shall not;
I'll give you something else.

Diomedes. I will have this: whose was it?

Cressida. It is no matter.

Diomedes. Come, tell me whose it was.

Cressida. 'Twas one's that loved me better than you will.
But, now you have it, take it.

Diomedes. Whose was it?

Cressida. By all Diana's waiting-women yond,
And by herself, I will not tell you whose.

Troilus. Wert thou the devil, and worest it on thy horn,
It should be challenged.

Cressida. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past: and yet it is not;
I will not keep my word.

Diomedes. Why, then, farewell;
Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.

Cressida. You shall not go: one cannot speak a word,
But it straight starts you.

Diomedes. What, shall I come? the hour?

Cressida. Ay, come:--O Jove!--do come:--I shall be plagued.

Diomedes. Farewell till then.

Cressida. Good night: I prithee, come.
[Exit DIOMEDES]
Troilus, farewell! one eye yet looks on thee
But with my heart the other eye doth see.
Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind:
What error leads must err; O, then conclude
Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude.