Tro. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence.[1645]
Pan. Pretty, i' faith.
Cres. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me;
'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss: 130
I am ashamed; O heavens! what have I done?
For this time will I take my leave, my lord.
Tro. Your leave, sweet Cressid?[1646]
Pan. Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning—[1647]
Cres. Pray you, content you.[1648] 135
Tro. What offends you, lady?[1648]
Cres. Sir, mine own company.[1648]
Tro. You cannot shun yourself.[1648][1649]
Cres. Let me go and try:[1648][1650]
I have a kind of self resides with you,[1651] 140
But an unkind self that itself will leave
To be another's fool. I would be gone:[1652]
Where is my wit? I know not what I speak.[1652]