+San.+ There may be juggling, sir, in this: it may be They have both hands i' th' deed, and one in love Would suffer for't. _Enter a +Lord+._ +Mil.+ What news? +Lord.+ The Dukes of Venice and Verona, With some small train of gentlemen, are privately This hour come to the court. +Mil.+ Bear them to prison, Until we have given such entertainment sorrow Will give us leave to show: until that time, The satisfaction of my lost son's life Must hover 'twixt a husband and a wife. [_Exeunt. Manet +Antonio+._ +Ant.+ How strangely chance to-day runs! the slave kill'd In my apparel, and this fellow taken for't, Whom to my knowledge I never saw. She loves him Past all expression dearly. I have a trick, In that so infinitely dear she loves him, Has seal'd her mine already; and I'll put This wondrous love of woman to such a nonplus, Time hath produc'd none stranger. I will set Honour and Love to fight for life and death. Beauty (as castles built of cards) with a breath Is levell'd and laid flat. _Enter +Philippo+, putting on a disguise, lays down a pistol._ +Phil.+ Misery of ignorance! It was the Prince Antonio I have slain. +Ant.+ Ha! the clue of all this error is unravell'd, This is the valiant gentleman so threaten'd me: He met the slave, doubtless, in my habit, And seal'd upon him his mistaken spleen. If it be so, there hangs some strange intent In those accuse themselves for't. +Phil.+ It seems some other had laid the plot to kill him. This paper I found with him speaks as much, And, sent to the intended murderer, Happen'd (it seems) to his hands. It concurs; For they say, there is one taken for the fact, And will do me the courtesy to be hang'd for me. There's comfort yet in that. So, so: I am fitted; And will set forward. [_+Antonio+ takes up the pistol._ +Ant.+ Goose, there's a fox in your way. +Phil.+ Betrayed! +Ant.+ Come, I have another business afoot: I have no time to discover 'em now, sir. See, I can enforce you; but by this hand, go but with me, and keep your own counsel. Garden-houses[171] are not truer bawds to cuckold-making, than I will be to thee and thy stratagem. +Phil.+ Th' art a mad knave: art serious? +Ant.+ As a usurer when he's telling interestmoney. +Phil.+ Whate'er thou art, thy bluntness begets belief. Go on, I trust thee. +Ant.+ But I have more wit than to trust you behind me, sir; pray, get you before. I have a friend shall keep you in custody till I have passed a project; and if you can keep your own counsel, I will not injure you. And this for your comfort--the prince lives. +Phil.+ Living! Thou mak'st my blood dance. But prythee, let's be honest one to another.