And yet my doubt of you was deeper wrong,
Measuring all the difference between
Man's grosser soul and woman's altar-lit.
O, Margaret, some serpent heart planned well
To do this deed and leave the guilt with me.
Mar. Who—who, my Hubert? Nay, it matters not,
Since 'twas not you—not you! In two small words
My heaven is built again!
Kent. We ne'er shall know.
I've foes enough, and one of them perhaps