_Man_. Good; And by the common poast: you every weeke Receiving letters from your noble frendes Yet none of their papers can tell any such tidings. _Pedro_. All this may be too, sir. _Man_. Why is her father silent? has she no kindred, No frend, no gentleman of note, no servant Whom she may trust to bring by word of mouth Her dismall story. _Pedro_. No, perhaps she would not Text up his name in proclamations. _Man_. Some villaine hath filld up a Cup of poyson T'infect the whole house of the _Guzman_ family; And you are greedyest first to take it downe. _Pedro_. That villaine is thy brother. _Man_. Were you a stranger Armd in the middle of a great Battalion And thus should dare to taxe him, I would wave My weapon ore my head to waft you forth To single combatt: if you would not come, Had I as many lives as I have hayres,[28] I'de shoot 'em all away to force my passage Through such an hoast untill I met the Traytour To my dear brother.--Pray, doe not thinke so, sir. _Pedro_. Not? when it shall be said one of our name (Oh heaven could I but say he were not my son!) Was so dishonorable, So sacrilegious to defile a Temple Of such a beauty & goodnes as she was! _Man_. As beauteous is my brother in his soule As she can be. _Pedro_. Why dost thou take his part so? _Man_. Because no dropp of honour falls from him But I bleed with it. Why doe I take his part? My sight is not so precious as my brother: If there be any goodnes in one man He's Lord of that; his vertues are full seas Which cast up to the shoares of the base world All bodyes throwne into them: he's no drunkard; I thinke he nere swore oath; to him a woman Was worse than any scorpion, till he cast His eye on _Eleonora_: and therefore, sir, I hope it is not so. _Pedro_. Was not she so? _Man_. I doe not say, sir, that she was not so, Yet women are strange creatures; but my hope Is that my brother was not so ignoble. Good sir, be not too credulous on a Letter: Who knowes but it was forgd, sent by some foe, As the most vertuous ever have the most? I know my Brother lov'd her honour so As wealth of kingdoms could not him entice To violate it or his faith to her. Perhapps it is some queint devise of theirs To hast your journey homeward out of _France_, To terminate their long-desired marriage. _Pedro_. The language of her letter speakes no such comfort, But I will hasten home; &, for you are So confident as not to thinke his honour Any way toucht, your good hopes be your guide Auspiciously to find it to your wish. Therefore my counsaile is you post before, And, if you find that such a wrong be done, Let such provision instantly be Betwixt you made to hide it from the world By giving her due nuptiall satisfaction, That I may heare no noise of't at my comming. Oh, to preserve the Reputation Of noble ancestry that nere bore stayne, Who would not passe through fire or dive the mayne? [_Exeunt_.