To falsely glitter in the eye of dames
And set them wandering with their vanities
Till they forget the way to their true lords.
Win. [Musing] I'm writing a court history, your grace.
'Twas John, I think, who set your countess' father
On fortune's road.
Alb. Nay, 'twas the king before him,
Henry the Second.
Win. [Going] Well, my wary lord,
I have no bruise to nurse, and meet the blow