Phi. Thou lyest.
Di. My Lord—
Phi. Thou lyest,
[Offers to draw and is held.
And thou shalt feel it; I had thought thy mind
Had been of honour; thus to rob a Lady
Of her good name, is an infectious sin,
Not to be pardon'd; be it false as hell,
'Twill never be redeem'd, if it be sown
Amongst the people, fruitful to increase
All evil they shall hear. Let me alone,
That I may cut off falshood, whilst it springs.
Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man
That utters this, and I will scale them all,
And from the utmost top fall on his neck,
Like Thunder from a Cloud.
Di. This is most strange;
Sure he does love her.
Phi. I do love fair truth:
She is my Mistress, and who injures her,
Draws vengeance from me Sirs, let go my arms.
Thra. Nay, good my Lord be patient.
Cle. Sir, remember this is your honour'd friend,
That comes to do his service, and will shew you
Why he utter'd this.
Phi. I ask you pardon Sir,
My zeal to truth made me unmannerly:
Should I have heard dishonour spoke of you,
Behind your back untruly, I had been
As much distemper'd, and enrag'd as now.