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If this thou do deny, let our hands part,

Neither intitled in the other’s heart.

King.

If this, or more than this, I would deny,

To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,

The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!

Hence [hermit] then—my heart is in thy breast.

[Ber.

And what to me, my love? and what to me?

Ros.

You must be purged too, your sins are rack’d,

You are attaint with faults and perjury:

Therefore if you my favor mean to get,

A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,

But seek the weary beds of people sick.)

Dum.

But what to me, my love? but what to me?

A wife?

Kath.

A beard, fair health, and honesty;

With threefold love I wish you all these three.

Dum.

O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?

Kath.

Not so, my lord, a twelvemonth and a day

I’ll mark no words that smooth-fac’d wooers say.

Come when the King doth to my lady come;

Then if I have much love, I’ll give you some.

Dum.

I’ll serve thee true and faithfully till then.

Kath.

Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again.