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