To seek my fault in thee.

Oct.Nay, that were nothing.

Brother, I fear thou wilt be sent from Rome.

He dare not face the truth. He cannot brook

Thy title: thou must go, ay, thou wilt go

And leave me in my prison.

Br.’Twas last night

I vexed him suddenly in his cups, but thought

’Twould be as soon forgotten.

Oct.Say, how was it?