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Cres. What this?

Dio. Ay, that.

Cres. O, all you gods!—O pretty pretty p.-dge.!
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 front me;
He, that takes that, must take my heart withal.

Dio. I had your heart before, this follows it.

Tro. I did swear patience.

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. . Tis Oo matter.

Dio. Come, tell me whose it was. ,

Cres. 'Twas one's that lov'd me better than you

will. But, now yon have it, take it

Dio. Whose was it?

Cres. 4f 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.


Did. Why then, farewell;

Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.

Cres. You shall not go:—Qne cannot speak a

word, But it straight starts you.

Dio. I do not like this fooling.

Ther. Nor I, by Pluto: but that that likes not you, pleases me best.

Did. What, shall I come? the hour?

Cres. Ay, come:—O Jove!—

•Do come:—I shall be plagu'd.

Dio. Farewell till then.

Cres. Good night. I pr'ythee, come.—

[Exit Diomedcs.

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.

[Exit Cressida.

Ther. A proof of strength she could not publish

more, Unless she said, My mind is now tura'd whore.

Ulyts. All's done, my lord.

Tro. It is.

Ulyss. Why stay we then?

Tro. To make a recordation to my soul Of every syllable that here was spoke. But, if 1 tell how these two did co-act

Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
An esperance so obstinately strong,
That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears;
As if those organs had deceptions functions,
Created only to calumniate.
Was Cressid here?

Ulyss. I cannot conjure, Trojan.

Tro. She was not, sure.

Ulyxs. Most sure she was.

Tio. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.

Ulyss. Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was here but now.

Tro. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood!
Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage
To stubborn criticks—apt, without a theme, i

For depravation,—to square the general sex
By Cressid's rule: rather think this not Cressid.

Ulyss. What hath she done, prince, that can soil our 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,
If sanctimony be the gods' delight,
If there be rule in unity itself,
This was not she. O madness of discourse,
That cause sets up with and against itself!
Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt

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