Cass. Cornelia, both dissembled they would have you; Which like you best?
Cor. My Lord, my fortunes are no chusers now,— Nor yet accepters of discurtesies.
Cass. You must chuse one here needs.
Doct. By garr, no chuse mee, me clime to heaven, me sincke to hell, me goe here, me go dare, me no point deere, by garr.
Cass. If you will none, whose judgement are too base To censure true desert, your betters will.
Flo. What meanes Lord Cassimere by these strange words?
Cass. I mean to take Cornelia to my wife.
Flo. Will you, then, in my miserie, mock me too?
Cass. I mock my friend in misery? heavens, scorne such! Halfe my estate and halfe my life is thine; The rest shall be Cornelia's and mine.
Doct. O bitter shame, be garr.