_Dro. E._ Am I so round with you as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. [_Exit._ 85 _Luc._ Fie, how impatience lowereth in your face! _Adr._ His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age the alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: 90 Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr’d, Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard: Do their gay vestments his affections bait? That’s not my fault; he’s master of my state: 95 What ruins are in me that can be found, By him not ruin’d? then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair: But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale, 100 And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale. _Luc._ Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it hence! _Adr._ Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; Or else what lets it but he would be here? 105 Sister, you know he promised me a chain; Would that alone, alone he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! I see the jewel best enamelled Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still, 110 That others touch, and often touching will Wear gold: and no man that hath a name, By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I’ll weep what’s left away, and weeping die. 115 _Luc._ How many fond fools serve mad jealousy! [_Exeunt._ NOTES: II, 1.