(And sure, 'twas unintended) could provoke
The rigorous count thus to imprison him?
Fab. My lord was ever proud and choleric;
The youth, perhaps unus'd to menaces,
Brook'd them but ill, and darted frown for frown:
This stirr'd the count to fury. But fear nothing;
All will be well; I'll wait the meetest season,
And be his advocate.
Jaq. Mean time, repair to him;
Bid him be patient; let him want no comfort,