165 And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
[166] And critic Timon laugh at idle toys!
Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain?
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege’s? all about the breast:
[170] A caudle, ho!
King. Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray’d thus to thy over-view?
[172] Biron. Not you to me, but I betray’d by you:
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin