MOTH.
Come, you transgressing slave: away!

COSTARD.
Let me not be pent up, sir: I will fast, being loose.

MOTH.
No, sir; that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison.

COSTARD.
Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I
have seen, some shall see--

MOTH.
What shall some see?

COSTARD.
Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they look upon. It is
not for prisoners to be too silent in their words, and therefore
I will say nothing. I thank God I have as little patience as
another man, and therefore I can be quiet.

[Exeunt MOTH and COSTARD.]

ARMADO.
I do affect the very ground, which is base, where her shoe,
which is baser, guided by her foot, which is basest, doth tread.
I shall be forsworn,--which is a great argument of falsehood,--if
I love. And how can that be true love which is falsely attempted?