+Luc.+ Sir, if you please to accompany me, I will bring you to him, where your own eye and ear shall witness the certainty; and then, I hope, you will repent that ever you sought to tie me to such a monster as this, who preferred the heat of his desires before all laws of nature or humanity. +Lor.+ Yes, that I will, and gratulate the subtlety of thy wit, and goodness of fate, that protected thee from him. +Æmi.+ Away with him, husband: and be sure to beg his lands betimes, before your court-vultures scent his carcase. +Lor.+ Well said, wife; I should never have thought on this now, and thou had'st not put me in mind of it: women, I see, have the only masculine policy, and are the best solicitors and politicians of a state. But I'll first go and see him my daughter tells me of, that, when I am truly informed of all, I may the better proceed in my accusation against them. Come along, sir. +Moc.+ Well, if you are so violent, I'm as resolute: 'tis but a hanging matter, and do your worst. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Bravo+ and +Boy+._ +Bravo.+ What news, boy? +Boy.+ Sir, Mistress Lucretia commends her to you, and desires, as ever her persuasions wrought upon you, or as you affect her good, and would add credit and belief to what she has reported, that you would now strain your utmost to the expression of what she and you consulted of. +Bravo.+ I apprehend her: where is she? +Boy.+ Hard by, sir: her father, and the old fornicator Mocinigo, and I think her mother, are all coming to be spectators of your strange behaviour. [_Exit._ +Bravo.+ Go, wait them in, let me alone to personate an ecstasy;[361] I am near mad already, and I do not fool myself quite into't, I care not. I'll withdraw, till they come. [_Exit._ _Enter +Lorenzo+, +Mocinigo+, +Æmilia+, +Lucretia+, and +Boy+._ +Lor.+ Is this the place? +Luc.+ Yes, sir. Where's your master, boy? how does he? +Boy.+ O sweet mistress, quite distempered; his brains turn round like the needle of a dial, six men's strength is not able to hold him; he was bound with I know not how many cords this morning, and broke them all. See, where he enters! _Enter +Bravo+._ +Bravo.+ Why, if I kill'd him, what is that to thee? Was I not hir'd unto it? 'twas not I, But the base gold that slew Sir Polydore:[362] Then damn the money, +Lor.+ He begins to preach. +Æmi.+ Will he do us no mischief, think you? +Boy.+ O no, he's the best for that in his fits that e'er you knew: he hurts nobody. +Moc.+ But I am vilely afraid of him.