Such as do flatter you strong men by their weakness.
Go flippant knight and seek your skim-milk love.
Guinevere would hate thee but for scorn.
God curse the day I ever let thee love!
Laun. Madam each word thou utterest, like a dagger,
Doth stab with cruel agonies my heart.
If Launcelot hath sinned in loving thee,
That love is maiden unto all save thee.
Yea I am damnèd daily for thy face,
And even thou dost scorn me.