Then Laertes gathers Sagramore up in his arms and rests his brow against Sagramore's cheek. "Thou canst see the end of thy blade well enough to best me," he says, "and see my face well enough to praise me and make me blush. What matters it, if thou canst not see every stroke of ink or stitch of embroidery? It only gives me more to unfold for thee."