Duke. O thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be

When time hath sow'd a grizzle [on thy case]?

Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow,

That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?

Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet

Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

Vio. My lord, I do [protest]

Oli. O, do not swear!

[Hold] little faith, though thou hast too much fear.

[Enter Sir Andrew.]