Look better on me, do you know me yet?
Luce. O thou dear shadow of my friend!
Jasp. Dear substance,
I swear I am no shadow; feel my hand,
It is the same it was: I am your Jasper,
Your Jasper that's yet living, and yet loving;
Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proof
I put in practice of your constancy.
For sooner should my sword have drunk my blood,
And set my soul at liberty, than drawn