_Ulys._ You shake, my lord, at something: will you go? You will break out. _Troil._ By all the gods I will not. There is, between my will and all my actions, A guard of patience: stay a little while. _Thers._ [_aside._] How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potato-finger, tickles these together!--Put him off a little, you foolish harlot! 'twill sharpen him the more. _Diom._ But will you then? _Cres._ I will, as soon as e'er the war's concluded. _Diom_ Give me some token, for the surety of it; The ring I saw you wear. _Cres._ [_Giving it._] If you must have it. _Troil._ The ring? nay, then, 'tis plain! O beauty, where's thy faith! _Ulys._ You have sworn patience. _Thers._ That's well, that's well, the pledge is given; hold her to her word, good devil, and her soul's thine, I warrant thee. _Diom._ Whose was't? _Cres._ By all Diana's waiting train of stars, And by herself, I will not tell you whose. _Diom._ Why then thou lov'st him still: farewell for ever: Thou never shalt mock Diomede again. _Cres._ You shall not go: one cannot speak a word, But straight it starts you. _Diom._ I do not like this fooling. _Thers._ Nor I, by Pluto: but that, which likes not you, pleases me best. _Diom._ I shall expect your promise. _Cres._ I'll perform it. Not a word more, good night--I hope for ever: Thus to deceive deceivers is no fraud. [_Aside._ [_Exeunt_ DIOMEDE _and_ CRESSIDA _severally._ _Ulys._ All's done, my lord. _Troil_ Is it? _Ulys._ Pray let us go. _Troil._ Was Cressida here? _Ulys._ I cannot conjure, Trojan. _Troil._ She was not, sure! she was not; Let it not be believed, for womanhood: Think we had mothers, do not give advantage To biting satire, apt without a theme For defamation, to square all the sex By Cressid's rule; rather think this not Cressida. _Thers._ Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes? _Troil._ This she! no, this was Diomede's Cressida. If beauty have a soul, this is not she:-- I cannot speak for rage;--that ring was mine:-- By heaven I gave it, in that point of time, When both our joys were fullest!--If he keeps it, Let dogs eat Troilus. _Thers._ He'll tickle it for his concupy: this will be sport to see! Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore; a parrot will not do more for an almond, than he will for a commodious drab:--I would I could meet with this rogue Diomede too: I would croak like a raven to him; I would bode: it shall go hard but I'll find him out. [_Exit_ THERSITES. _Enter_ AENEAS. _AEn._ I have been seeking you this hour, my lord: Hector by this is arming him in Troy. _Ulys._ Commend me, gallant Troilus, to your brother: Tell him, I hope he shall not need to arm; The fair Polyxena has, by a letter, Disarmed our great Achilles of his rage. _Troil._ This I shall say to Hector.