The. [Springing up] Are you man
Or monster that you foul this hour with thought
So gross?
Phil. A man—no more, no less—who loves
Your mother's daughter. Hate me as you will,
I here adopt your grief,—with oath and tear
Take it to love as my own child of woe,
And swear you faith to death.
The. The gods, my lord.
Record not oaths of men till they've received