All’s well. I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: To you they have show’d some truth.

I think not of them: Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, We would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time.

If you shall cleave to my consent, when ’tis, It shall make honour for you.

So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, I shall be counsell’d.