Mar. Why, I 'm mad.
Val. Why, I [a]m madder. Martius, draw thy sword,
And lop a villain from the earth; for if
Thou wilt not, on some tree about this place
I'll hang my self; Valerius shall not live
To wound his brothers honor, stain his Countrey,
And branded with ingratitude to all times.
Mar. For what can all this be?
Val. I [a]m in love.
Mar. Why so am I. With whom? ha?
Val. Dorigen.
Mar. With Dorigen? how dost thou love her? speak.
Val. Even to the height of lust; and I must have her or else I die.
Mar. Thou shalt, thou daring Traitor.
On all the confines I have rid my horse,
Was there no other woman for thy choice
But Dorigen? Why, villain, she is mine:
She makes me pine thus, sullen, mad, and fool;
'T is I must have her, or I die.
Val. O all ye gods,
With mercy look on this declining rock
Of valour, and of virtue; breed not up
(From infancie) in honor, to full man,
As you have done him, to destroy: here, strike;
For I have onely search'd thy wound: dispatch;
Far, far be such love from Valerius,
So far he scorns to live to be call'd brother
By him that dares own such folly and such vice.