Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof: Or by the worth of man’s eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my waked wrath!

Make me to see’t; or, at the least, so prove it, That the probation bear no hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!

If thou dost slander her and torture me, Never pray more; abandon all remorse; On horror’s head horrors accumulate; Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed; For nothing canst thou to damnation add Greater than that.