Syrus. I’ve no patience with you.
You use me ill, Sir, and I can’t endure it.
Clin. Hear him: peace, Clitipho! (To Clitipho.)
Syrus. You’d be in love;
Possess your mistress; and have wherewithal
To make her presents: but to gain all this
You’d risk no danger. By my troth, you’re wise,
If it be wise to wish for what can’t be.
Take good and bad together; both, or none;
Choose which you will; no mistress, or no danger.