Mons. I will not then; to prove which, by my love
Shewne to thy vertues, and by all fruits else
Already sprung from that still flourishing tree,
With whatsoever may hereafter spring,[420]
I charge thee utter (even with all the freedome
Both of thy noble nature and thy friendship)
The full and plaine state of me in thy thoughts.
Buss. What, utter plainly what I think of you?
Mons. Plaine as truth.[425]
Buss. Why this swims quite against the stream of greatnes: