What, shall I come? The hour?

Diomedes
What, shall I come? The hour?
Cressida
Ay, come.—O Jove!—Do, come.—I shall be plagued.
Diomedes
Farewell, till then.
Cressida
Good night. I prithee, come.—
He exits.
Troilus, farewell. One eye yet looks on thee,
But with my heart the other eye doth see.
Ah, poor our sex! This fault in us I find:
The error of our eye directs our mind.
What error leads must err. O, then conclude:
Minds swayed by eyes are full of turpitude.
She exits.
Thersites, aside
A proof of strength she could not publish more,
Unless she said “My mind is now turned whore.”