mind too, 'mongst all colours No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband's! A gross hag And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, That wilt not stay her tongue. Hang all the husbands That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject. Once more, take her hence. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more. I'll ha' thee burnt. I care not: It is an heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; But this most cruel usage of your queen, Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak-hinged fancy, something savours Of tyranny and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world. On your allegiance, Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? she durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her! I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove send her A better guiding spirit! What needs these hands? You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, Will never do him good, not one of you. So, so: farewell; we are gone. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. My child? away with't! Even thou, that hast A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence And see it instantly consumed with fire; Even thou and none but thou. Take it up straight: Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life, With what thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; The bastard brains with these my proper hands Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire; For thou set'st on thy wife. I did not, sir: These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, Can clear me in't. We can: my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. You're liars all. Beseech your highness, give us better credit: We have always truly served you, and beseech you So to esteem of us, and on our knees we beg, As recompense of our dear services Past and to come, that you do change this purpose, Which being so horrible, so bloody, must Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel. I am a feather for each wind that blows: Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel And call me father?