Ajax. Not at all, cousin; here comes Achilles himself, to guide us.

  Enter ACHILLES.

Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all.

Agam. So now, brave prince of Troy, I take my leave; Ajax commands the guard to wait on you.

Men. Good night, my lord.

Hect. Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.

Thers. [Aside.] Sweet, quotha!  Sweet sink, sweet sewer, sweet jakes!

Achil. Nestor will stay; and you, lord Diomede, Keep Hector company an hour or two.

Diom. I cannot, sir; I have important business.

Achil. Enter, my lords.

Ulys. [To TROIL.] Follow his torch:  he goes to Calchas’s tent.
                       [Exeunt ACHIL.  HECT.  AJAX, one way; DIOMEDE
                        another; and after him ULYSSES
                        and TROILUS.

Thers. This Diomede’s a false-hearted rogue, an unjust knave; I will

no more trust him when he winks with one eye, than I will a serpent when he hisses.  He will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers set it down for a prodigy:  though I long to see Hector, I cannot forbear dogging him.  They say he keeps a Trojan drab; and uses Calchas’s tent, that fugitive priest of Troy, that canonical rogue of our side.  I’ll after him; nothing but whoring in this age; all incontinent rascals!
          
                                          [Exit THERSITES.

Enter CALCHAS and CRESSIDA.

Calch. O, what a blessing is a virtuous child! 
Thou has reclaimed my mind, and calmed my passions
Of anger and revenge; my love to Troy
Revives within me, and my lost tiara
No more disturbs my mind.

Cres. A virtuous conquest!

Calch. I have a woman’s longing to return; But yet which way, without your aid, I know not.

Cres. Time must instruct us how.

Calch. You must dissemble love to Diomede still: 
False Diomede, bred in Ulysses’ school,
Can never be deceived,
But by strong arts and blandishments of love. 
Put them in practice all; seem lost and won,
And draw him on, and give him line again. 
This Argus then may close his hundred eyes,
And leave our flight more easy.

Cres. How can I answer this to love and Troilus?

Calch. Why, ’tis for him you do it; promise largely; That ring he saw you wear, he much suspects Was given you by a lover; let him have it.

Diom. [Within.] Ho, Calchas, Calchas!

Calch. Hark!  I hear his voice.  Pursue your project; doubt not the success.

Cres. Heaven knows, against my will; and yet my hopes, This night to meet my Troilus, while ’tis truce, Afford my mind some ease.