Por. No, my lord—
You mean my love to you, not yours to me—
Unwearied through your long forgetful absence.
Prince. How easily, Porcia, would my love
Prove to you its unchanged integrity,
Were it not that our friends—
Por. Your friends indeed,
Who stop a lame apology at the outset.
Enter Serafina.
Serafina. I cannot rest, Porcia, and am come