Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Cres. Good morrow then.
Troy. Troy.
Troy. I prithee now to bed.
Cres. Cres.
Cres. Are you a weary of me?
Troy. O Cressida! but that the busie day
Troy. Wak't by the Larke, hath rouz'd the ribauld Crowes,
Troy. And dreaming night will hide our eyes no longer:
Troy. I would not from thee.
Cres. Night hath beene too briefe.
Troy. Beshrew the witch! with venemous wights she (stayes,
Troy. As hidiously as hell; but flies the graspes of loue,
Troy. With wings more momentary, swift then thought:
Troy. You will catch cold, and curse me.
Cres. Prithee tarry, you men will neuer tarry;
Cres. O foolish Cressid, I might haue still held off,