That I may cut off falshood, whilst it springs.
Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man
That utters this, and I will scale them all,
And from the utmost top fall on his neck,
Like Thunder from a Cloud.

_Di_. This is most strange;
Sure he does love her.

_Phi_. I do love fair truth:
She is my Mistress, and who injures her,
Draws vengeance from me Sirs, let go my arms.

_Thra_. Nay, good my Lord be patient.

_Cle_. Sir, remember this is your honour'd friend,
That comes to do his service, and will shew you
Why he utter'd this.

_Phi_. I ask you pardon Sir,
My zeal to truth made me unmannerly:
Should I have heard dishonour spoke of you,
Behind your back untruly, I had been
As much distemper'd, and enrag'd as now.

_Di_. But this my Lord is truth.

_Phi_. O say not so, good Sir forbear to say so,
'Tis the truth that all womenkind is false;
Urge it no more, it is impossible;