_Duke_. In mine owne honour, _Fredericke_, I command
Thou set a ransome on _Valentia_.
_Fred_. What honor's that? your Dukedomes interest?
Your princely birth? your honerable fame?
All these are blemisht with a strumpets name.
_Mon_. Be not so cruell to bereave her life
'Twill draw upon thee a perpetuall scar,--
Thy fathers curse, and a continuall warre.
_Duke_. Oh doe not threaten; _Fredericke_ is so mild
He will not prove such a degenerate child.
I cannot blame him tho' hee rise in armes:
'Twas not in hate to me, but in disdaine
That I should sell my royaltie so vaine;
But did he know the value of the jem,
Hee would not crase[204] it for a Dyadem.
That shee was common her owne words approve,
But many faults are cover'd where men love.
As thou respects my blessing and good dayes,
Restore her, _Fredericke_, and augment her prayse.
_Fred_. Restore her?
_Albert_. Never.
_Duke_. _Albert_, thou wert kind
And I ne're wrong'd thee; doe not change thy minde.
_Hat_. You doe abase your honour to intreate.
_Duke_. How can I choose? my affection is so great.
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