Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a [shameful] cunning,
Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To [one of] your [receiving]
Enough is [shown]: a [cypress], not a bosom,
[Hides] my [heart]. So, let [me] hear you speak.
Vio. I pity you.
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