““Bellario. Sir, you did take me up When I was nothing; and only yet am something By being yours. You trusted me unknown; And that which you were apt to conster A simple innocence in me, perhaps Might have been craft, the cunning of a boy Hardened in lies and theft: yet ventured you To part my miseries and me; for which, I never can expect to serve a lady That bears more honour in her breast than you.””
