Estrild monologue (Act 4) — Locrine: A Tragedy

But she, Being wise, exceeds me: yet, so she divide not Thine heart, my best-beloved of liars, with me, I care not—nor I will not care. Some part She hath had, it may be, of thy fond false heart— Nay, couldst thou choose? but now, though she be fairer, Let her take all or none: I will not be Partaker of her perfect sway, nor sharer With any on earth more dear or less to thee. Nay, be not wroth: what wilt thou have me say? That I can love thee less than she can? Nay, Thou knowest I will not ill to her; but she— Would she not burn my child and me with fire To wreak herself, who loved thee once, on thee?