Sham. More into the light?
Put not such cruelty into your requests my Lord,
First to disgrace me publickly, and then draw me
Into mens eye-sight, with the shame yet hot
Upon my reputation.
Duke. What disgrace, Sir?
Sham. What?
Such as there can be no forgiveness for,
That I can find in honour.
Duke. That's most strange, Sir.
Sham. Yet I have search'd my bosom to find one,
And wrestled with my inclination,
But 'twill not be: would you had kill'd me Sir.
With what an ease had I forgiven you then!
But to endure a stroke from any hand
Under a punishing Angel, which is justice,
Honor disclaim that man, for my part chiefly:
Had it been yet the malice of your sword,
Though it had cleft me, 't had been noble to me;
You should have found my thanks paid in a smile
If I had fell unworded; but to shame me,
With the correction that your horse should have,
Were you ten thousand times my royal Lord,
I cannot love you never, nor desire to serve you more.
If your drum call me, I am vowed to valour,
But peace shall never know me yours agen,
Because I've lost mine own, I speak to dye Sir;
Would you were gracious that way to take off shame,
With the same swiftness as you pour it on:
And since it is not in the power of Monarchs
To make a Gentleman, which is a substance
Only begot of merit, they should be careful
Not to destroy the worth of one so rare,
Which neither they can make; nor lost, repair. [Exit.
Duke. Y'ave set a fair light Sir before my judgement,
Which burns with wondrous clearness; I acknowledge it,
And your worth with it: but then Sir, my love,
My love—what gone agen?
1 Gen. And full of scorn, my Lord.
Duke. That language will undoe the man that keeps it.
Who knows no diff'rence 'twixt contempt and manhood.
Upon your love to goodness, Gentlemen,
Let me not lose him long: how now?
Enter a Huntsman.
Hunts. The game's at height my Lord.