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will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabler the hound ; but when he performs, astronomers foretel 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 his tent: I'll after.--Nothing but lechery! all incontinent varlets !
CALCHAS' Tent. Enter DIOMED,
Dio. What, are you up here, ho? speak.
Cal. She comes to you.
Enter Troilus, and Ulysses, at a Distance; after
them THERSITES. Ulyss. Stand where the torch may not discover us.
Troi. Cressid come forth to him!
Cre. Now, my sweet guardian !-Hark,
Troi. Yea, so familiar)
Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sight.
Ther. And any man
Dio. Will you remember?
Dio. Nay, but do then;
Troż. What should she remember?
130 Dio. Nay, then, Cre. I'll tell you what.
Dio. Pho! pho! come, tell a pin: You are forsworn. Cre. In faith, I cannot: What would
Ther. A juggling trick, to be-secretly open.
Cre. I pr’ythee, do not hold me to mine oath;
140 Dio. Good night. Troi. Hold, patience! Ulyss. How now, Trojan? Cre. Diomed, Dio. No, no, good night : I'll be your fool no
Troi. Thy better must.
Ulyss. You are mov'd, prince; let us depart, I pray you,
Troi. Behold, I pray you !
Troi. I pr'ythee, stay.
160 Dio. And so, goud night. Cre. Nay, but you part in anger.
Troi. Doth that grieve thee?
Ulyss. Why, how now, lord ?
170 You will break out.
Troi, She strokes his cheek !
Troi. Nay, stay ; by Jove, I will not speak a word :
Ther. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potatoe finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry! Dio. But will you then?
Troi. Fear me not, my lord ;
Ther. Now the pledge ; now, now, now!
190 Where is thy faith?
Ulyss. My Lord,
Dio. Whase was't?
Cre. It is no matter, now I have'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, Dio. I shall have it.
201 Cre. What, this? Dio. Ay, that.
Cre, O, all you gods !–O pretty pretty pledge!
Dio. I had your heart before, this follows it.
Dio. I will have this; Whose was it?
Dio. Whose was it?
Cre. 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. Troi. Wer't thou the devil, and wor'st it on thy
horn, It should be challengd.
Cre. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past ;--And yet it
is not ;
I will not keep my word.
Dio. Why then, farewel;