Maf. I will my lord, and yet 360
I would be glad the wrong I had of D'Ambois—
Mons. Precious! then it is a fate that plagues me
In this mans foolery; I may be murthered,
While he stands on protection of his folly.
Avant, about thy charge!
Maf. I goe, my lord.—365
I had my head broke in his faithfull service;
I had no suit the more, nor any thanks,
And yet my teeth must still be hit with D'Ambois.