This golden goblet, let it hold your wine,

And think of me; or melt it into ingots,

And think of nothing but their weight and value.

Her. I thank you doubly for my life, and this340

Most gorgeous gift, which renders it more precious.

But must I bear no answer?

Sar.‍Yes,—I ask

An hour's truce to consider.

Her.‍But an hour's?

Sar. An hour's: if at the expiration of