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Three thousand ducats. I’ll not answer that;

But say it is my humor, is it answer’d?

What if my house be troubled with a rat,

And I be pleas’d to give ten thousand ducats

To have it ban’d? What, are you answer’d yet?

Some men there are love not a gaping pig;

Some that are mad if they behold a cat;

And others, when the bagpipe sings i’ th’ nose,

Cannot contain their urine: for affection,

[Mistress] of passion, sways it to the mood

Of what it likes or loathes. Now for your answer:

As there is no firm reason to be rend’red

Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;

Why he, a harmless necessary cat;

Why he, a woollen bagpipe, but of force

Must yield to such inevitable shame

As to offend, himself being offended;

So can I give no reason, nor I will not,

More than a lodg’d hate and a certain loathing

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus

A losing suit against him. Are you answered?

Bass.

This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,

To excuse the current of thy cruelty.

Shy.

I am not bound to please thee with my answers.