To have you dead before he came a-wooing,
And if you feel yourself—I were not able
To think it, but I see’t—so null a nithing
That you despair his scale to counterpoise
With the pure metal of your manhood’s worth
In your wife’s heart, what justifies you then
To hold my worth so light that you could fear
Myself would never spurn the murderer back?
O double insult!
Herod (breaking out).