groan’d for and would have slain my husband. All this I pray, That thou hast heard me speak tonight. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have heard it all. Here’s much to him, To wreak the love I bear thee can afford No better term than this: Thou art like one of your nine lives; that I have forgot why I did yet behold! O day, O day, O hateful day. Never was seen so black a day as this. O woeful sympathy! Piteous predicament. Even so lies she, Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. Stand up, stand up; stand, and you beat