But I propose it not; remember that.
Crat. I do; and therefore I propose it first,
To save this virtuous shame, this good confusion,
That would not let you speak.
Cleom. Oh! I could almost think you love me not,
You granted me so quick, so willingly,
What I,—bear witness, heaven,—was slow to ask,
And would be loth to have.
Cleor. I cannot leave you.
Cleom. I was but wishing thou wouldst draw me back,