Of blood too near, as mine is to Hortensia.
Aust. Too near of blood! oh, specious mockery!
Where have these doubts been buried twenty years?
Why wake they now? And am I closetted
To sanction them? Take back your hasty words,
That call'd me wise or virtuous; while you offer
Such shallow fictions to insult my sense,
And strive to win me to a villain's office.
Count. The virtue of our churchmen, like our wives,
Should be obedient meekness. Proud resistance,