ULYSSES.
I do desire it.
CRESSIDA.
Why, beg then.
ULYSSES.
Why then, for Venus’ sake give me a kiss
When Helen is a maid again, and his.
CRESSIDA.
I am your debtor; claim it when ’tis due.
ULYSSES.
Never’s my day, and then a kiss of you.
DIOMEDES.
Lady, a word. I’ll bring you to your father.
[Exit with Cressida.]
NESTOR.
A woman of quick sense.
ULYSSES.
Fie, fie upon her!
There’s language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her body.
O! these encounterers so glib of tongue
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes,
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
To every tickling reader! Set them down
For sluttish spoils of opportunity,
And daughters of the game.
[Trumpet within.]