_Enter Duke of Saxonie and Fredericke_. Alas, he comes! Montano, prethee, peace. 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. _Ju_. He wrongs my Ladie, an't please your grace. _Mon_. Ile tell the trueth. _Euph_. Or rather let me tell it. _Mon_. Lacivious love is ever full of sleights. _Euph_. Villaines, that seeke by treason their desires, Want no suggestion to beguile a trueth. _Mon_. I say, I found this peasant in her closet Kissing, imbracing, and dishonouring her. _Euph_. I say, an't please your gracious Excellence, I found this Gentleman within my closet, There set by subornation of this Lord, And here appointed to dishonor me. Speake, is't not true? _Con_. True, if it please your grace. _Duke_. What say you, strumpet? _Ju_. Since my Ladie saies so, I say and't please your Excellence-- _Duke_. Speake, woman. _Ju_. 'Tis very true. _Mon_. O monstrous forgerie! _Fre_. O more then falshood to become so smooth In such a dangerous action! _Duke_. This is strange; _Montano_ seeke the ruine of my daughter! _Euph_. Because I would not yeeld unto his suite, Which he in rapefull manner oft hath sought, Hee set this Gentleman to doe me shame Intending by exclaimes[166] to raise the Court, But that repentance in my waiting Maide And of his sorrowfull selfe reveal'd the plot. _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?