Against my canker'd country with the spleen
Of all the under fiends. But if so be
Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes
Th' art tir'd, then, in a word, I also am 100
Longer to live most weary, and present
My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice;
Which not to cut would show thee but a fool,
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate, 104
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless
It be to do thee service.
Auf. O Martius, Martius!
Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart 108
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter
Should from yond cloud speak divine things,
And say, ''Tis true,' I'd not believe them more
Than thee, all noble Martius. Let me twine 112
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke,
And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip
The anvil of my sword, and do contest 116
As hotly and as nobly with thy love
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
I lov'd the maid I married; never man 120
Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here,
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
97 canker'd: malevolent
spleen: anger
99 prove . . . fortunes: try your fortune further
105 tuns: huge barrels
109 A root . . . envy: one of the old sources of my hate
113 where against: against which
114 grained ash: spear-shaft of tough ash
115 clip: embrace
121 Sigh'd . . . breath: uttered sincerer love sighs
122 dances: makes leap
rapt: enraptured
