Ant. I have a Cause Sir, that's enough for you; well, if I be not famous, I am wrong'd much; for any thing I know I will not trouble him this week at least, no, let them take their way one of another.
1 Ser. Sir, Will you be still an Irish-man?
Ant. Yes a while.
2 Ser. But your Worship will be beaten no more?
Ant. No, I thank you William.
1 Ser. In truth, Sir, if it must be so, I'll do it better than a stranger.
Ant. Goe, you are Knaves both, but I forgive you, I am almost mad with the apprehension of what I shall be, not a word I charge you. [Exeunt.
Enter Valerio, and Viola.
Val. Come, pretty soul, we now are near our home,
And whilst our horses are walkt down the hill,
Let thou and I walke here over this Close:
The foot-way is more pleasant, 'tis a time
My pretty one, not to be wept away,
For every living thing is full of love;
Art not thou so too? ha?
Vio. Nay, there are living things empty of love,
Or I had not been here, but for my self,
Alas, I have too much.