A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks!
When shall we see again?
TROILUS.
Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart—
CRESSIDA.
I true! How now? what wicked deem is this?
TROILUS.
Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us;
I speak not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
For I will throw my glove to Death himself
That there's no maculation in thy heart:
But be thou true, say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation. Be thou true,
And I will see thee.
CRESSIDA.
O heavens! be true again—
O heavens! you love me not.
TROILUS.