O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left
To see some mischief on him. O!

Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger.

If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?

Hold your hand, my lord:
I have served you ever since I was a child;
But better service have I never done you
Than now to bid you hold.