icate to you.

_Pand._ I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'll give
him me. Be true to my lord; if he flinch, I'll be hanged for him.--Now
am I in my kingdom! [_Aside._

_Troil._ You know your pledges now; your uncle's word, and my firm
faith.

_Pand._ Nay, I'll give my word for her too: Our kindred are constant;
they are burs, I can assure you; they'll stick where they are thrown.

_Cres._ Boldness comes to me now, and I can speak:
Prince Troilus, I have loved you long.

_Troil._ Why was my Cressida then so hard to win?

_Cres._ Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord--
What have I blabbed? who will be true to us,
When we are so unfaithful to ourselves!
O bid me hold my tongue; for, in this rapture,
Sure I shall speak what I should soon repent.
But stop my mouth.

_Troil._ A sweet command, and willingly obeyed. [_Kisses._

_Pand._ Pretty, i'faith!

_Cres._ My lord, I do beseech you pardon me;
'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss.
I am ashamed;--O heavens, what have I done!
For this time let me take my leave, my lord.

_Pand._ Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning, call me Cut.

_Cres._ Pray, let me go.

_Troil._ Why, what offends you, madam?

_Cres._ My own company.

_Troil._ You cannot shun yourself.

_Cres._ Let me go try;
I have a kind of self resides in you.

_Troil._ Oh that I thought truth could be in a woman,
(As if it can, I will presume in you,)
That my integrity and faith might meet
The same return from her, who has my heart,
How should I be exalted! but, alas,
I am more plain than dull simplicity,
And artless as the infancy of truth!

_Cres._ In that I must not yield to you, my lord.

_Troil._ All constant lovers shall, in future ages,
Approve their truth by Troilus. When their verse
Wants similes,--as turtles to their mates,
Or true as flowing tides are to the moon,
Earth to the centre, iron to adamant,--
At last, when truth is tired with repetition,
As true as Troilus, shall crown up the verse,
And sanctify the numbers.

_Cres._ Prophet may you be!
If I am false, or swerve from truth of love,
When Time is old, and has forgot itself
In all things else, let it remember me;
And, after all comparisons of falsehood,
To stab the heart of perjury in maids,
Let it be said--as false as Cressida.

_Pand._ Go to, little ones; a bargain made. Here I hold your hand, and
here my cousin's: if ever you