My body is her bower, her Court, her abbey,
And she an Angel, pure, divine, unspotted:
If I should leave her house, my Lord, to thee,
I kill my poor soul and my poor soul me.

KING EDWARD.
Didst thou not swear to give me what I would?

COUNTESS.
I did, my liege, so what you would I could.

KING EDWARD.
I wish no more of thee than thou maist give:--
Nor beg I do not, but I rather buy--
That is, thy love; and for that love of thine
In rich exchange I tender to thee mine.

COUNTESS.
But that your lips were sacred, my Lord,
You would profane the holy name of love.
That love you offer me you cannot give,
For Caesar owes that tribute to his Queen;
That love you beg of me I cannot give,
For Sara owes that duty to her Lord.
He that doth clip or counterfeit your stamp
Shall die, my Lord; and will your sacred self
Commit high treason against the King of heaven,
To stamp his Image in forbidden metal,
Forgetting your allegiance and your oath?
In violating marriage sacred law,