Ant. Where art thou sick?
Alb. At Heart, Antonio, poison’d by thy Jealousy;
—Oh, thou hast ruin’d me, undone my Quiet,
And from a Man of reasonable Virtue,
Hast brought me to a wild distracted Lover.
Ant. Explain your self.
Alb. Thou’st taught me, Friend, to love Clarina;
Not, as I promis’d thee, to feign, but so,
That I, unless I do possess that Object,
I think must die; at best be miserable.