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Men. Good-night, my lord.
Ther. Sweet draught sweet, quoth a --sweet
those That go or tarry.
Achil. Old Nestor tarries, and you too, Diomede, Keep Heilor company an hour or two.
Dio. I cannot, lord, I have important business, The tide whereof is now ; good-night, great Hector.
Heit. Give me your hand.
Ulyd. Follow his torch, he goes to Calchas' tent:
Ther. That same Diomede's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave: I will no more truft 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 foretel it, that it is prodigious, there will come some change: the Sun borrows of the Moon, when Diomede keeps his word. I will rather leave to see Hektor, than not to dog him : they fay, he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas his tent. I'll after--Nothing but lechery; all incontinent varlets. Exeunt.
. Who calls?
Dio. HAT are you up here, ho ? speak.
Cal. Who calls ? Dio. Diomede; Calchas I think; where's your daughter?
Cal. She comes to you.
Enter Troilus and Ulysses, after them Therlites.
Ther. And any man may sing to her, if he can take her cliff. She's noted.
Dio. Will you remember?
Dio. Nay, but do then; and let your mind be coupled with your words.
Troi. What should she remember?
Troi. Thy Better must.
Troi. Behold, I pray you
Troi. I prythee, Aay.
Dio. And so, good-night.
you go?, You will break out.
Troi. She stroke's his cheek.
Troi. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word.
Ther. How the devil luxury with his fat rump and potato finger tickles these together! fry, lechery,
Dio. But will you then ?
Cre. I'll fetch you one.
Troi. Fear me not, sweet lord,
S CE N E IV.
the pledge; , nownow.
Cre, Here, Diomede, keep this sleeve."
Cre. You look upon that sleeve ; behold it will: He lov'd me:- 0 false wench!--Give't me again.
Dio. Whose was't?
Cre. It is no matter, now I have't again. I will not meet with you to morrow night:i I pr’ythee, Diomede, vist me no more. :: Ther. Now she sharpens : well said, Whetstone. Dio. I shall have it. Cre. What, this? Dio. Ay, that.
Cre. O, all ye Gods — O pretty, pretty pledge; Thy master now lies thinking in his bed Of thee and me, and fighs, and takes my glove, And gives memorial dainty kifles to it: As I kiss thee.
Diomedes (natches the seeve.
Dio. I had your heart before, this follows it.
Dio. I will have this: whole was it?
Dio. Come, tell we whose it was ?
Cre. 'Twas one that lov'd me better than you will. But, now you have it, take it.
Dio. Whose was it?
Cre. By all Diana's waiting-women yonder, And by herself, I will not tell
whose. Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm, And grieve his fpirit, that dares not challenge it: Troi. Wert thou the Devil, and wor’st it on thy
horn, It should be challeng'd. Cre. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past;
I will not keep my word.
Dio. I do not like this fooling.
Ther. Nor I, by Pluto : but that that likes not you, pleases me beft.
Dio. What, shall I come? the hour?
Cre. Ay, come: O Jove! do, come :-
CE NE V. Ther. Proof of strength she could not publish
more ; Unless she say, my mind is now turn'd whore.