MENELAUS

An odd man, lady! every man is odd.

CRESSIDA

No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true,
That you are odd, and he is even with you.

MENELAUS

You fillip me o' the head.

CRESSIDA

No, I'll be sworn.

ULYSSES

It were no match, your nail against his horn.
May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?

CRESSIDA

You may.

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 accosting