110 Will lose his beauty; [yet the] gold bides still,
[That others touch, and] often touching [will]
[Wear] gold: [and no man] that hath a name,
[By] falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
115 I’ll weep [what’s left away], and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
Exeunt.