_Agamemnon._ Is this the lady Cressid? _Diomed._ Even she. _Agam._ Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady. _Nestor._ Our general doth salute you with a kiss. _Ulysses._ Yet is the kindness but particular; ’Twere better she were kissed in general. _Nest._ And very courtly counsel: I’ll begin.— So much for Nestor. _Achilles._ I’ll take that winter from your lips, fair lady: Achilles bids you welcome. _Menelaus._ I had good argument for kissing once. _Patroclus._ But that’s no argument for kissing now. ... The first was Menelaus’ kiss;—this, mine; Patroclus kisses you. _Men._ Oh, this is trim! _Patr._ Paris and I kiss evermore for him. _Men._ I’ll have my kiss, sir:—Lady, by your leave. _Cressida._ In kissing, do you render or receive?[23] _Patr._ Both take and give. _Cres._ I’ll make my match to live. The kiss you take is better than you give; Therefore no kiss. _Men._ I’ll give you boot, I’ll give you three for one. _Cres._ You’re an odd man; give even or give none. ... _Ulyss._ May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you? _Cres._ You may. _Ulyss._ I do desire it. _Cres._ Why, beg, then. _Ulyss._ Why, then, for Venus’ sake, give me a kiss When Helen is a maid again and his. _Cres._ I am your debtor, claim it when ’tis due. _Ulyss._ Never’s my day, and then a kiss of you. _Troilus and Cressida_, iv. 5. * * * * * (_Cressida to Diomed._) 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. _Troilus and Cressida_, v. 2. * * * * * (_Timon, looking on the gold._) Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian’s lap! thou visible god, That solder’st close impossibilities, And mak’st them kiss! _Timon of Athens_, iv. 3. * * * * * Oh, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip Hath virgined it e’er since. _Coriolanus_, v. 3. * * * * * Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort; Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. _Julius Cæsar_, i. 1. * * * * * Let but the commons hear his testament, And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar’s wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood.