Let me choose For as I am, I live upon the rack.

Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess What treason there is mingled with your love.

None but that ugly treason of mistrust, Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love: There may as well be amity and life ’Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, Where men enforced do speak anything.

“Confess” and “love” Had been the very sum of my confession: O happy torment, when my torturer Doth teach me answers for deliverance! But let me to my fortune and the caskets.