And put upon him such a deal of man, That worthied him, got praises of the king For him attempting who was self-subdued; And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit, Drew on me here again. None of these rogues and cowards But Ajax is their fool. Fetch forth the stocks! You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, We'll teach you-- Sir, I am too old to learn: Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king; On whose employment I was sent to you: You shall do small respect, show too bold malice Against the grace and person of my master, Stocking his messenger. Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour, There shall he sit till noon. Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, You should not use me so. Sir, being his knave, I will. This is a fellow of the self-same colour Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks! Let me beseech your grace not to do so: His fault is much, and the good king his master Will cheque him for 't: your purposed low correction Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches For pilferings and most common trespasses Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill, That he's so slightly valued in his messenger, Should have him thus restrain'd. I'll answer that. My sister may receive it much more worse, To have her gentleman abused, assaulted, For following her affairs. Put in his legs. Come, my good lord, away. I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure, Whose disposition, all the world well knows, Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd: I'll entreat for thee. Pray, do not, sir: I have watched and travell'd hard; Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. A good man's fortune may grow out at heels: Give you good morrow! The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. Good king, that must approve the common saw, Thou out of heaven's benediction comest To the warm sun! Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, That by thy comfortable beams I may Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees miracles But misery: I know 'tis from Cordelia, Who hath most fortunately been inform'd Of my obscured course; and shall find time From this enormous state, seeking to give Losses their remedies. All weary and o'erwatch'd, Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night: smile once more: turn thy wheel!