{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

[And yet another; more apt, to be sure.]

TROILUS
Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart,--

CRESSIDA
I true? How now, what wicked deem is this?

TROILUS
Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us.
I speak not 'Be thou true' as fearing thee,
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart;
But 'Be thou true,' say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation: Be thou true,
And I will see thee.

CRESSIDA
O, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers
As infinite as imminent! But I'll be true.

TROILUS
And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.

CRESSIDA [as they exchanged favours]
And you this glove. When shall I see you?

TROILUS
I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet, be true.

CRESSIDA
O heavens! 'Be true' again?

TROILUS
Hear why I speak it, love.
The Grecian youths are full of quality;
Their loving well composed with gifts of nature,
And flowing o'er with arts and exercise.
How novelty may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy--
Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin--
Makes me afeard.

CRESSIDA
O heavens, you love me not!

TROILUS
Die I a villain then!
In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games--fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant.
But I can tell that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil
That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted.

CRESSIDA
Do you think I will?

TROILUS
No.
But something may be done that we will not;
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.

[...]

TROILUS
Come, kiss; and let us part.

PARIS
[Within] Brother Troilus!

TROILUS [Calls out]
Good brother, come you hither;
And bring AEneas and the Grecian with you.

CRESSIDA
My lord, will you be true?

TROILUS
Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:
Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity;
Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns,
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit
Is 'plain and true;' there's all the reach of it.