I don’t wish to excuse myself; you know how such things happen. We danced; she dared me to wait by her when the Queen came; of course I waited—oh, curse it!
Shakespeare:
She dared you. That rank pride of hers the pride that ruined angels and unpeopled heaven! The foul temptress! Damn her, oh, damn her!
Herbert:
Pride’s no fault.
Shakespeare:
No fault! She swears love to me and then to you; kisses me and kisses you—no fault—she loves the slime that sticks to filthy deeds.
Herbert:
You believe her when you’re with her; she seems true.
Shakespeare: