Ele. Away, away!
Queen-M. No, no says ay; and twice away says stay:
Come, come, I'll have a kiss; but if you strive,
For one denial you shall forfeit five.
Ele. Nay, prythee, good queen, leave me;
I am now sick and heavy, dull[52] as lead.
Queen-M. I'll make thee lighter by taking something from thee.
Ele. Do: take from me this ague and these fits
That, hanging on me,
Shake me in pieces, and set all my blood
A-boiling with the fire of rage: away, away!
Thou believ'st I jest,
And laugh'st to see
My wrath wear antic shapes! Begone, begone!
Queen-M. What means my love?
Burst all those wires, burn all those instruments;
For they displease my Moor. Art thou now pleas'd?
Or wert thou now disturb'd? I'll wage all Spain
To one sweet kiss, this is some new device
To make me fond and long. O, you men
Have tricks to make poor women die for you.
Queen-M. Away, what way? I prythee, speak more kindly;
Why dost thou frown? at whom?
Ele. At thee.
Queen-M. At me!
O, why at me? For each contracted frown
A crooked wrinkle interlines my brow:
Spend but one hour in frowns, and I shall look
Like to a beldame of one hundred years.
I prythee, speak to me, and chide me not.
I prythee, chide, if I have done amiss;
But let my punishment be this and this.