+Clown.+ His superfluity is my necessity. Pray, let me ha't, sir. +Lod.+ I will talk with thee to-morrow, Pambo: thou shalt have something too: but I'll go to bed. Honest Francis, the dearest must part, I see. I will so hug the sweet rascal, that thinks every hour ten, till I come yonder! Good night, Frank. To bed, Pambo. What delight in life Can equal such a friend and such a wife? So, my dainty Doll, I come to thee. [_Exit._ +Clown.+ So a city nightcap go with thee! But shall I not be thought on for my night's service? +Fran.+ O, look ye, pray forget not ye had something. +Clown.+ Well, and pray do you remember I had nothing. +Fran.+ Nothing! what's that? +Clown.+ Nothing, before I had something, I mean. So you are well-returned from Utopia. +Fran.+ You're very nimble, sir: good-morrow. [_Exeunt._ _A bar set out. Enter the +Duke of Verona+, +Pandulpho+, +Spinoso+, +Jaspro+, +Jovani+, +Lorenzo+, +Philippo+, +Abstemia+, a guard and two slaves._ +Ver.+ Call the accus'd to th' bar. +Phil.+ We appear With acknowledg'd reverence to the presence. +Ver.+ We meet not To build on circumstances, but to come plainly To the business that here plac'd us. Cousin Lorenzo, You have free leave to speak your griefs; but this Desire the senate to observe, and nearly: I come here not your kinsman; neither, madam, Looking unto the greatness of your blood, As you are sister to the Duke of Venice; But as an equal judge, I come to doom, As circumstance[129] and proof informs. +Lor.+ Thus then, (Great sir, grave lords, and honourable auditors Of my dishonour) I affirm 'tis known To th' signory of Verona, the whole city; Nay, the great multitude without, that come This day to hear unwilling truth, can witness, How, since my marriage with that woman--weep'st thou? O truth, who would not look thee in a woman's tears! But showers that fall too late, produce dear years-- All know that, since our marriage, I have perform'd So fairly all judicial wedlock-offices, That malice knew not how at my whole actions To make one blow, and to strike home. I did rather Honour her as a saint, sir, than respect her, As she was my wife. On pilgrimage I sent All my endeavours to the fair-seeming shrine Of their desires, where they did offer daily A plenal satisfaction, which she seem'd Reciprocally to return, paid back As much obedience as I lent of love: But then the serpent stings, when like a dove Opinion feathers him: women's sweet words As far are from their hearts, though from their breasts They fly, as lapwings' cries are from their nests. +Pan.+ O, you inveigh.