That I, on knees before you in abjection,
Swear “Lord, your villein came me not anigh!
And that you may believe—for to your faith
I have no right, albeit I am your wife—
Hear this thing yet and that!” O fie, O fie![8]
No Herod! If your itching later ask
I answer you—perhaps. Now I am dumb.
Herod.
But if you had been large enough of loving
To grant me grace for all that, out of loving,