No; when the tempest rages round my head,
I give my branches wider to the air,
And strike my root more deeply.—To thy tale:
Away with palliatives and compliments;—
Speak plainly.
Fab. Plainly, then, my lord, I have heard
What, for the little breath, I have to draw,
I would not, to the black extent of rumour,
Give credit to.—But you command me speak—
Count. Thy pauses torture me.—Can I hear worse