Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion--
Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that
Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.