I tell you that it is necessary to put you out of harm's way.

But, if I were your enemy, I could not be a worse torment to you than you are to me.

Are not you continually singing the praises of Falkland?
Are not you in love with Falkland?
That man is a legion of devils to me! I might as well have been a beggar! I might as well have been a dwarf or a monster! Time was when I was thought entitled to respect.

But now, debauched by this Frenchified rascal, they call me rude, surly, a tyrant! It is true that I cannot talk in finical phrases, flatter people with hypocritical praise, or suppress the real feelings of my mind.

The scoundrel knows his pitiful advantages, and insults me upon them without ceasing.