Than thou of them. Come all to ruin: let
Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear
Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list.
(III. ii. 123.)
At this his efforts to propitiate her are almost amusing:
Pray, be content:
Mother, I am going to the market-place:
Chide me no more. I’ll mountebank their loves,
Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved