Courage, sweete Love.
_Con_. I see our love must cease.
_Euph_. Not if my wit can helpe; it shall goe hard
But Ile prevent the traitor.
_Mon_. Heare me, my Lord.
_Euph_. Heare me, my gracious father.
_Mon_. Heare me, my liege: ther's treason in your Court,
I have found a peasant in the Princesse closet;
And this is he that steales away her honour.
_Euph_. This villaine, gracious father, 'tis that seekes
To rob me of mine honor, you your daughter.
_Mon_. Now, as you are a right heroike Prince,
Be deafe unto your daughters faire[165] words.
_Euph_. Be deafe to him, as you regard your selfe.
_Duke_. What strange confusion's this that cloyes our hearing?
_Fred_. Speake, beauteous sister, who hath done thee wrong?
_Mon_. Her self.
_Euph_. This traitor.
_Fre_. Lord _Montano_?
_Euph_. Hee.
_Fred_. Villaine, thou dyest.
_Mon_. Stay, she meanes _Constantine_,
He that I found infolded in her closet,
Reaping the honour which a thousand Lords
Have fail'd in seeking in a lawful course.
_Con_. He does me wrong, my gracious soveraigne.
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