Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.
Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] O, to him, to him, wench! he will relent;
He’s coming; I perceive’t.
II. 2.
125 Prov.
[Aside] Pray heaven she win him!
Isab. [We cannot] weigh our brother with [ourself]:
Great men may jest with [saints]; ’tis wit in them.
But in the less foul profanation.