ABSTRACT
Graf, Not I, Upon my life, my Lord. ■ ” . Mor. W hy themif thou dar'ft take my word for it,it is.’. Gthc. But Sir, what makes you weep ? Mor. My vow, Graatlus, my vow ! (wtycshis eyes'. T e r . Your pretence of a vow> is but an excufe for your
Cowardice. Grac. W hy, in troth, my Lord, if I were as you, I
would fight,andfor once break a vow madcin cold blood, now your courage is fo Ipur’d and chaf’d with thefe quar relling Lords.
