I care not for his frowns! We can but die,
And he but live, for him the very worst320
Of destinies: each day secures him more
His tempter's.
Jac. Fos.This is mere insanity.
Mar. It may be so; and who hath made us mad?
Lor. Let her go on; it irks not me.
Mar.That's false!
You came here to enjoy a heartless triumph
Of cold looks upon manifold griefs! You came