But thou wast near thy death. Walk off secure,
Not knowing that I heard. Effeminate!
The meanest of the Greeks! were he the best,
I’d slay him in this garment. Yet he is but
A tongue to troll opinion of me, a slave,
Fetcher and carrier of others’ tales, and doth
The drudgery honestly; for that I’ll thank him
And profit by his slander. Ay, so I’ll do—
Now in good time—I’ll get me a man’s dress
And meet them here, ere they suspect me:—or, stay!