All that those hard times strove for, all they won.
The faith thou owest me, still may make all mine;
Wilt thou deny it me?
Sen.Alas, good lady!
Agr.Alas!
Is this the vein? Think you I come to hear
Your lamentations? Ah! ye dare, I see,
Pity me while ye wrong me: but the truth
Ye dare not say. Ye dare not say, Lo, we,
Raised by your clemency, sworn to your service,