Flu. You say not true: ’tis gilt.
Cand. Then you say true;
And being gilt, the guilt lies more on you.
Cas. I hope y’are not angry, sir.
Cand. Then you hope right; for I’m not angry.
Flu. No, but a little moved.
Cand. I moved! ’twas you were moved, you were brought hither.
Cas. But you, out of your anger and impatience,
Caused us to be attached.
Cand. Nay, you misplace it:
Out of my quiet sufferance I did that,
And not of any wrath. Had I shown anger,
I should have then pursued you with the law,
And hunted you to shame, as many worldlings
Do build their anger upon feebler grounds;
The more’s the pity; many lose their lives
For scarce so much coin as will hide their palm:
Which is most cruel; those have vexèd spirits
That pursue lives; in this opinion rest,
The loss of millions could not move my breast.
Flu. Thou art a blest man, and with peace dost deal,
Such a meek spirit can bless a commonweal.