I left no ring with her. What means this lady? Fortune forbid my outsides have no charmed her! She made good view of me, indeed so much. That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly
None of my lord's ring? Why, he sent her none? I am the man. If it be so, as 'tis, poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disguise, i see thou art a wickedness.
She loves me sure!The cunning of her passion. Invites me in this churlish messenger
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper false in women's waxen hearts to set their forms! Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we, for such as we are made of, such we be
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly , and i, poor monster, fond as much on him, as she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.