With my stern brother? I shall soon be jealous.
Myr. (smiling). You have cause, Sire; for on the earth there breathes not
A man more worthy of a woman's love,
A soldier's trust, a subject's reverence,
A king's esteem—the whole world's admiration!
Sar. Praise him, but not so warmly. I must not430
Hear those sweet lips grow eloquent in aught
That throws me into shade; yet you speak truth.
Myr. And now retire, to have your wound looked to,
Pray lean on me.