THERSITES.
Now the pledge; now, now, now!
CRESSIDA.
Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.
TROILUS.
O beauty! where is thy faith?
ULYSSES.
My lord!
TROILUS.
I will be patient; outwardly I will.
CRESSIDA.
You look upon that sleeve; behold it well.
He lov’d me—O false wench!—Give’t me again.
DIOMEDES.
Whose was’t?
CRESSIDA.
It is no matter, now I have’t again.
I will not meet with you tomorrow night.
I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more.
THERSITES.
Now she sharpens. Well said, whetstone.
DIOMEDES.
I shall have it.