DUKE. You shall have leave to leave us, with this charge Upon your lives, if we be missed by th' duchess Or any of the nobles, to give out, We're privately rid forth. VEN. O happiness! DUKE. With some few honourable gentlemen, you may say-- You may name those that are away from court. GEN. Your will and pleasure shall be done, my lord. [Exeunt. VEN. Privately rid forth! He strives to make sure work on't. Your good grace! DUKE. Piato, well-done, hast brought her! what lady is't? VEN. Faith, my lord, a country lady, a little bashful at first, as most of them are; but after the first kiss, my lord, the worst is past with them. Your grace knows now what you have to do; she has somewhat a grave look with her--but-- DUKE. I love that best; conduct her. VEN. Have at all. [_Aside._ DUKE. In gravest looks the greatest faults seem less. Give me that sin that's rob'd in holiness. VEN. Back with the torch! brother, raise the perfumes. DUKE. How sweet can a duke breathe! Age has no fault. Pleasure should meet in a perfumed mist. Lady, sweetly encountered: I came from court, I must be bold with you. O, what's this? O! VEN. Royal villain! white devil! DUKE. O! VEN. Brother, place the torch here, that his affrighted eyeballs May start into those hollows. Duke, dost know Yon dreadful vizard? View it well; 'tis the skull Of Gloriana, whom thou poisonedst last. DUKE. O! 't has poisoned me. VEN. Didst not know that till now? DUKE. What are you two? VEN. Villains all three! the very ragged bone Has been sufficiently reveng'd. DUKE. O, Hippolito, call treason! HIP. Yes, my lord; treason! treason! treason! [_Stamping on him._ DUKE. Then I'm betray'd. VEN. Alas! poor lecher: in the hands of kraves, A slavish duke is baser than his slaves. DUKE. My teeth are eaten out. VEN. Hadst any left? HIP. I think but few. VEN. Then those that did eat are eaten. DUKE. O my tongue! VEN. Your tongue? 'twill teach yon to kiss closer, Not like a slobbering Dutchman. You have eyes still: Look, monster, what a lady hast thou made me! [_Discovers himself._ My once betrothed wife. DUKE. Is it thou, villain? nay, then-- VEN. Tis I, 'tis Vendice, 'tis I. HIP. And let this comfort thee: our lord and father Fell sick upon the infection of thy frowns, And died in sadness: be that thy hope of life. DUKE. O!