I’ll put you under sword! And Antony,
Should he command my fall on your account,
E’en though he wrought it not to save your mother
Shall be my dupe. How doubtful e’er it be
Whether the robe that shrouds me at my death
Follows me to my grave because some thief
Can still purloin it, you shall follow me!
That’s firm and fixed! Should I return no more
You die! A stumpy point that trips the foot!
What gives assurance I shall be obeyed