Part 37

Diom. Good night.

Troy. Hold, patience!

Vlyſ. How now, Troian!

Cre. Diomed!

Diom. No, no, good night; I’ll be your fool no more.

Troy. Thy better must.

Cre. Hark! a word in your ear.

Troy. O plague and madness!

Vlyſ. You are moved, Prince; let us depart, I pray, Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous; The time right deadly; I beseech you, go.

Troy. Behold, I pray you.

Vlyſ. Nay, good my lord, go off; You flow to great distraction; come, my lord.

Troy. I prithee stay.

Vlyſ. You have not patience; come.

Troy. I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell’s torments, I will not speak a word.

Diom. And so, good night.

Cre. Nay, but you part in anger.

Troy. Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth!

Vlyſ. How now, my lord?

Troy. By Jove, I will be patient.

Cre. Guardian! Why, Greek!

Diom. Fo, fo! adieu! you palter.

Cre. In faith, I do not. Come hither once again.

Vlyſ. You shake, my lord, at something; will you go? You will break out.

Troy. She strokes his cheek.

Vlyſ. Come, come.

Troy. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word: There is between my will and all offences A guard of patience. Stay a little while.

Ther. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump and potato finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry!

Diom. But will you, then?