+Ant.+ No, no, no, hear me: 'twas I cried murder; Because I have found them both stain'd with the deed They would have throttled me. +Lor.+ Hear us: by all---- +Mil.+ Upon your lives, be silent. Speak on, sir: Had they both hands in our son's blood? +Ant.+ Two hands apiece, sir. I have sifted it: they both have kill'd the prince; But this is the chief murderer. Please you, give me audience; Ye shall wonder at the manner how they kill'd him. +Mil.+ Silence! +Ant.+ He came first to this woman, and (truth's truth) He would have lain with her. +Mil.+ Her own confession. +Ant.+ Nay, good your grace. +Mil.+ We are silent. +Ant.+ Coming to seize upon her, with the first blow She struck his base intent so brave a buffet, That there it bled to death. She said, his horse Would teach him better manners: there he died once. +Ver.+ What does this fellow talk? +Abs.+ I understand him. +Ant.+ He met her next i' the wood, where he was found dead: Then he came noblier up to her, and told her Marriage was his intent; but she as nobly (Belike, to let him know she was married) Told him, in an intelligible denial, A chaste wife's truth shin'd through the greatest trial: There the prince died again. +Lod.+ There's twice; beware the third time. +Ant.+ The third time, he came here to them both in prison, Brought a pistol with him, would have forc'd her again; But had ye seen how fairly then she slew him, You would have shot applauses from your eyes: O, she came up so bravely to that prince Hot potent Lust (for she slew no prince else), With such a valiant discipline she destroy'd That debosh'd[175] prince, Bad Desire; and then, by him So bravely too fetch'd off, that (to conclude) Betwixt them they this wonder did contrive, They kill'd the prince, but kept your son alive. [_Discovers himself._ +Mil.+ Antonio! +Omnes.+ The prince! +Ven.+ Come home, my sister, to my heart. +Ver.+ And now Lorenzo is again my belov'd kinsman. +Ant.+ O sir, here dwells virtue epitomis'd, Even to an abstract, and yet that so large 'Twill swell a book in folio. +Lod.+ She swells beyond my wife then: A pocket-book, bound in _decimo sexto_, Will hold her virtues, and as much spare paper left As will furnish five tobacco-shops. +Mil.+ But here's the wonder; who is it was slain In your apparel? +Phil.+ I will give them all the slip. [_Offers to go._ +Ant.+ Here's a gentleman of Ferrara---- +Phil.+ As you are noble---- +Ant.+ That saw them fight: it was the slave was slain, sir, I took before Palermo: he that kill'd him, Took him but for a gentleman his equal; And as this eye-witness says, he in my apparel Did kick the t'other first.