Rog. Sir, by the conscience of a Catholic man,
And by our mother Church, that binds
And doth atone in amity with God
The souls of men, that they with men be one,
I tread into the centre all the thoughts
Of ill in me toward you, and memory
Of what from you might aught disparage me;
Wishing unfeignedly it may sink low, 380
And, as untimely births, want power to grow.
Men. Christianly said! Signior, what would you have more?
Clar. And so I swear. You’re honest, onocentaur!
Gui. Nay, see now! Fie upon your turbulent spirit!
Did he doo ’t in this form?
Clar. If you think not this sufficient, you shall command me to be reconciled in another form—as a rhimatrix or a rhinoceros.[172]
Men. ’Sblood! what will you do? 389
Clar. Well, give me your hands first: I am friends with you, i’faith. Thereupon I embrace you, kiss your wife, and God give us joy!
[To Thais.
Tha. You mean me and my husband?