ULYSSES.
You shall command me, sir.
As gentle tell me of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there
That wails her absence?
TROILUS.
O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord?
She was belov’d, she lov’d; she is, and doth;
But still sweet love is food for fortune’s tooth.
[Exeunt.]
ACT V
SCENE I. The Grecian camp. Before the tent of Achilles.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
ACHILLES.
I’ll heat his blood with Greekish wine tonight,
Which with my scimitar I’ll cool tomorrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
PATROCLUS.
Here comes Thersites.
Enter Thersites.
ACHILLES.
How now, thou core of envy!
Thou crusty batch of nature, what’s the news?