Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die? Therefore proceed.
But yet hear this (mistake me not: no life,
I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour,
Which I would free), if I shall be condemned
Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else
But what your jealousies awake, I tell you
’Tis rigour, and not law. Your Honors all,
I do refer me to the oracle.
Apollo be my judge.