TROILUS & CRESSIDA. William Shakespeare
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TROILUS.
Hold, patience!
ULYSSES.
How now, Trojan!
CRESSIDA.
Diomed!
DIOMEDES.
No, no, good night; I’ll be your fool no more.
TROILUS.
Thy better must.
CRESSIDA.
Hark! one word in your ear.
TROILUS.
O plague and madness!
ULYSSES.
You are moved, Prince; let us depart, I pray you,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous;
The time right deadly; I beseech you, go.
TROILUS.
Behold, I pray you.
ULYSSES.
Nay, good my lord, go off;
You flow to great distraction; come, my lord.
TROILUS.
I pray thee stay.
ULYSSES.
You have not patience; come.
TROILUS.
I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell’s torments,
I will not speak a word.
DIOMEDES.
And so, good night.
CRESSIDA.
Nay, but you part in anger.
TROILUS.
Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth!
ULYSSES.
How now, my lord?
TROILUS.
By Jove, I will be patient.
CRESSIDA.
Guardian! Why, Greek!
DIOMEDES.
Fo, fo! adieu! you palter.
CRESSIDA.
In faith, I do not. Come hither once again.
ULYSSES.
You shake, my lord, at something; will you go?
You will break out.
TROILUS.
She strokes his cheek.
ULYSSES.
Come, come.
TROILUS.
Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word:
There is between my will and all offences
A guard of patience. Stay a little while.
THERSITES. How the devil Luxury, with his fat rump and potato finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry!
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.
[Exit.]
ULYSSES.
You have sworn patience.
TROILUS.
Fear me not, my lord;
I will not be myself, nor have cognition
Of what I feel. I am all patience.
[Re-enter CRESSIDA.]
THERSITES.
Now the pledge; now, now, now!
CRESSIDA.
Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.
TROILUS.
O beauty! where is thy faith?
ULYSSES.
My lord!
TROILUS.
I will be patient; outwardly I will.
CRESSIDA.
You look upon that sleeve; behold it well.
He lov’d 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 tomorrow night.
I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more.
THERSITES.
Now she sharpens. Well said, whetstone.
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 on 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.