+Duke.+ This is the famous antiquary I told your grace of, a man worthy your grace; the Janus of our age, and treasurer of times passed: a man worthy your bounteous favour and kind notice; that will as soon forget himself in the remembrance of your highness, as any subject you have. +Lio.+ How comes he so accoutred? +Duke.+ No miracle at all, sir; for, as you have many fools in the habit of a wise man, so have you sometimes a wise man in the habit of a fool. +Ant.+ Sir, I have been so grossly abused, as no story, record, or chronicle can parallel the like, and I come here for redress: I hear your highness loves me, and indeed you are partly interested in the cause, for I, having took somewhat a large potion for your grace's health, fell asleep, when in the interim they apparelled me as you see, made a fool or an asinigo[365] of me; and for my boy here, they cogged him out of his proper shape into the habit of an Amazon, to wait upon me. +Lio.+ But who did this? +Ant.+ Nay, sir, that I cannot tell; but I desire it may be found out. +Duke.+ Well, signor, if you knew all, you have no cause to be angry. +Ant.+ How so? +Duke.+ Why, that same coat you wear did formerly belong unto Pantolabus the Roman jester, and buffoon to Augustus Cæsar. +Ant.+ And I thought so, I'd ne'er put it off, while I breath'd. +Lio.+ Stand by; we'll inquire further anon. _Enter +Aurelio+, +Lorenzo+, +Mocinigo+, +Bravo+, +Æmilia+, +Lucretia+, Officers._ Now who are you? +Aur.+ Your highness's officers. We have brought two murderers here to be censured, Who by their own confession are found guilty, And need no further trial. +Lio.+ Which be the parties? +Aur.+ These, and please you. +Lio.+ Well, what do you answer? What can you plead to stop the course of justice? +Moc.+ For my part, though I had no conscience to act it, I have not the heart to deny it; and therefore expect Your sentence; for mercy, I hope none nor favour. +Lio.+ What says th' accuser? +Luc.+ Please your princely wisdom, He slew a man was destin'd for my husband; Yet, since another's death cannot recall him, Were the law satisfied, and he adjudg'd To have his goods confiscate, for my own part, I could rest well content. +Moc.+ With all my heart; I yield possession to whomsoe'er She shall choose for a husband. Reach a paper Or blank: I'll seal to it. +Luc.+ See, there's a writing! +Moc.+ And there's my hand to it: I care not what the conditions be. +Lio.+ 'Tis well: whom will you choose in place of the other? +Luc.+ Then, sir, to keep his memory alive, I'll seek no further than this officer. +Lor.+ How? choose a common serjeant for her husband! +Æmi.+ A base commendadore! I'll ne'er endure it.