ULYSSES.
No trumpet answers.
ACHILLES.
’Tis but early days.
AGAMEMNON.
Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas’ daughter?
ULYSSES.
’Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait:
He rises on the toe. That spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
Enter Diomedes and Cressida.
AGAMEMNON.
Is this the Lady Cressid?
DIOMEDES.
Even she.
AGAMEMNON.
Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.
NESTOR.
Our general doth salute you with a kiss.
ULYSSES.
Yet is the kindness but particular;
’Twere better she were kiss’d in general.