Which by love’s gift I see: so say no more.
F. Forgive me, Richard: ’tis a just rebuke.
I did speak grossly. ’Tis that artist’s pride
Of which you used to warn me: I will confess it.
In my own case I am idealist
At the price of all the world. If I believed
I were as others, I should mock myself.
I have not yet come to that. Now, in my excuse,
Diana is sometimes laughable.
R.And who