And makes his Conquests, thefts; some fortunate Captains
That quarter with him, and are truly valiant,
Have flung the name of happy Cæsar on him,
Himself ne're won it: he is so base and covetous,
He'l sell his sword for gold.
Ars. This is too bitter.
Cleo. Oh I could curse my self, that was so foolish,
So fondly childish to believe his tongue,
His promising tongue, e're I could catch his temper,
I had trash enough to have cloy'd his eyes withal,