Wife. He was born
To beggar all my patience.
Vot. I'm bold
Still to prefer my love; your woman hears me not.
Wife. Where's modesty and honour? Have I not thrice
Answer'd thy lust?
Leo. By'r lady, I think oft'ner. [Aside.
Wife. And darest thou yet look with temptation on us?
Since nothing will prevail, come, death—come, vengeance—
I will forget the weakness of my kind,
And force thee from my chamber.
[She thrusts at Votarius with the sword.
Vot. How now, lady!
'Ud's life, you prick me, madam!
Wife. Prythee, peace!
I will not hurt thee; will you yet be gone, sir?
Leo. He's upon going, I think.
Vot. Madam, you deal false with me; O, I feel it;
You're a most treacherous lady! this thy glory!
My breast is all a-fire! O— [Dies.