No, trust me, sir, nor I.
Æge. I am sure thou dost.
[Dro. E.] [Ay, sir], but I am sure I do not; and whatsoever 305 , you are now bound to believe him.
Æge. Not know my voice! O time’s extremity,
Hast thou so [crack’d and splitted] my poor tongue
In [seven short years], that here my only son
Knows not my feeble key [of untuned cares]?
310 Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming winter’s drizzled snow,
And all the conduits of my blood froze up,