Seg. What, sir mouth-piece, you again?
Ast. My Lord, I waive your insult to myself
In recognition of the dignity
You yet are new to, and that greater still
You look in time to wear. But for this lady—
Whom, if my cousin now, I hope to claim
Henceforth by yet a nearer, dearer name—
Seg. And what care I? She is my cousin too:
And if you be a Prince—well, am not I?
Lord of the very soil you stand upon?