_Mon_. O ye gods, how am I over-reacht!
_Duke_. I know the yong man to be well discended,
Of civill carriage and approved faith,
How ere seduced to this enterprise.
_Con_. My conscience, would not propagate that plot.
_Ju_. Nor mine, my Lord, though gold corrupted me.
_Mon_.--Cleane from the byas! wit, by heaven rare wit!
Ile tell another tale, if they have done.
_Duke_. What canst thou speake, vild[167] traitor?
Thou seest thou art prevented in thy plot
And therefore desperately coin'st any thing,
But I am deafe to all such stratagems.
_Mon_. Will you not heare me?
_Duke_. Forgeries and lies.
My daughters honour is of that high prize
That I preferre it 'fore a traitors braine.
Let it suffice, we know she hath deni'd thee
And some denied (like devills) turne their love
Into excrutiation of themselves
And of the parties whom they have belov'd.
Revenge begins where flatteries doe end;
Being not her husband, thou wilt be no friend.
Thus is thy policy by heaven prevented:
Therefore henceforth we banish thee our Court;
Our Court? our territorie, every place
Wherein we beare the state of Royaltie.
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