THERSITES.
No, no I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very filthy rogue.
HECTOR.
I do believe thee. Live.
[Exit.]
THERSITES.
God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague break thy neck for frighting me! What’s become of the wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. I’ll seek them.
[Exit.]
SCENE V. Another part of the plain.
Enter Diomedes and a Servant.
DIOMEDES.
Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus’ horse;
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid.
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty;
Tell her I have chastis’d the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.
SERVANT.
I go, my lord.
[Exit.]