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George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
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SCENE III. Calchas's Tent. Enter Diomede.

Dio.

What 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 Thersites.

Ulys.

Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Enter Cressid.

Troi.

Cressid come forth to him?

Dio.

How now, my charge?

Cre.

Now my sweet guardian; hark, a word with you.

[Whispers.

Troi.

Yea, so familiar?

-- 101 --

Ulys.

She will sing to any man at first sight.

Ther.

And any man may b notesing to her, if he can take her cliff. She's noted.

Dio.

Will you remember?

Cre.

Remember? yes.

Dio.

Nay, but do then; and let your mind be coupled with your words.

Troi.
What should she remember?

Ulys.
List.

Cre.
Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.

Ther.
Roguery—

Dio.
Nay then.

Cre.
I'll tell you what.

Dio.
Fo, fo, come tell a pin, you are a forsworn—

Cre.
In faith I can't: what would you have me do?

Ther.
A jugling trick, to be secretly open.

Dio.
What did you swear you would bestow on me?

Cre.
I pr'ythee do not hold me to mine oath;
Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.

Dio.
Good-night.

Troi.
Hold, patience—

Ulys.
How now, Trojan?

Cre.
Diomede.

Dio.
No, no, good-night: I'll be your fool no more.

Troi.
Thy better must.

Cre.
Hark, one word in your ear.

Troi.
O plague and madness!

Ulys.
You are mov'd, prince; let us depart, I pray you,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge it self
To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly: I beseech you go.

Troi.
Behold, I pray you—

-- 102 --

Ulys.
Good my lord go off:
You fly to great distraction: come, my lord.

Troi.
I pr'ythee stay.

Ulys.
You have not patience; come.

Troi.
I pray you stay; by hell, and by hell's torments,
will not speak a word.

Dio.
And so good-night.

Cre.
Nay, but you part in anger.

Troi.
Doth that grieve thee? O wither'd truth!

Ulys.
Why, how now, lord?

Troi.
By Jove, I will be patient.

Cre.
Guardian—why Greek

Dio.
Fo, fo, adieu, you palter.

Cre.
In faith, I do not: come hither once again.

Ulys.
You shake, my lord, at something; will you go?
You will break out.

Troi.
She stroaks his cheek.

Ulys.
Come, come.

Troi.
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.

Ther.

How the devil luxury with his fat rump and potato finger tickles these together! fry, lechery, fry.

Dio.

But will you then?

Cre.
In faith I will come; never trust me else.

Dio.
Give me some token for the surety of it.

Cre.
I'll fetch you one.
[Exit.

Ulys.
You have sworn patience.

Troi.
Fear me not, sweet lord,
I will not be my self, nor have cognition
Of what I feel: I am all patience.

-- 103 --

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George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
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