I’d put it more politely, but I can’t!
I’m bound against my will to speak the truth!
I’d not insult you openly, for worlds—
Indeed, it’s only what I think of you!
Chrys. If it is only what you think of me,
Why say no more; give me your hand again—
My knightly honor’s amply satisfied!
[They sheathe their swords, then exeunt arm in arm.
Gélan. So dies that breeze away! Oh, honor, honor!
Let no one take you at the estimate