Enter THERSITES, TROILUS, Trojans.

Thers. That’s Calchas’s tent.

Troil. Then, that one spot of earth contains more falsehood,
Than all the sun sees in his race beside. 
That I should trust the daughter of a priest! 
Priesthood, that makes a merchandise of heaven! 
Priesthood, that sells even to their prayers and blessings
And forces us to pay for our own cozenage!

Thers. Nay, cheats heaven too with entrails and with offals;
Gives it the garbage of a sacrifice,
And keeps the best for private luxury.

Troil. Thou hast deserved thy life for cursing priests. 
Let me embrace thee; thou art beautiful: 
That back, that nose, those eyes are beautiful: 
Live; thou art honest, for thou hat’st a priest.

Thers. [Aside.] Farewell, Trojan; if I escape with life, as I hope, and thou art knocked on the head, as I hope too, I shall be the first that ever escaped the revenge of a priest after cursing him; and thou wilt not be the last, I prophesy, that a priest will bring to ruin. [Exit THER.

Troil. Methinks, my soul is roused to her last work;
Has much to do, and little time to spare. 
She starts within me, like a traveller,
Who sluggishly outslept his morning hour,
And mends his pace to reach his inn betimes.
                                      [Noise within, Follow, follow! 
A noise of arms! the traitor may be there;
Or else, perhaps, that conscious scene of love,
The tent, may hold him; yet I dare not search,
For oh, I fear to find him in that place. [Exit TROILUS.

Enter CALCHAS and CRESSIDA.

Cres. Where is he?  I’ll be justified, or die.

Calch. So quickly vanished! he was here but now. 
He must be gone to search for Diomede;
For Diomede told me, here they were to fight.

Cres. Alas!

Calch. You must prevent, and not complain.

Cres. If Troilus die, I have no share in life.

Calch. If Diomede sink beneath the sword of Troilus
We lose not only a protector here,
But are debarred all future means of flight.

Cres. What then remains?

Calch. To interpose betimes
Betwixt their swords; or, if that cannot be,
To intercede for him, who shall be vanquished. 
Fate leaves no middle course. [Exit CALCHAS.

  Clashing within.

Cres. Ah me!  I hear them, And fear ’tis past prevention.

  Enter DIOMEDE, retiring before TROILUS, and falling as he
  enters.

Troil. Now beg thy life, or die.

Diom. No; use thy fortune:  I loath the life, which thou canst give, or take.