Now, I do love her too;
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leap'd into my seat: the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards; And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife;
Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confus'd: Knavery's plain face is never seen till us'd.
Note: recording says God