_Mount._ Where ambitious lust Desires to be above the rule prescrib'd her, Takes hold, and wins, poor chastity, cold duty, Like fashions old forgot, she flings behind her, And puts on bloud and mischief, death, and ruine, To raise her new-built hopes, new faith to fasten her: _Ma' foy_, she is as foul, as Heaven is beauteous. _Mir._ Thou liest; thou liest _Mountferrat_: thou liest basely. Stare not, nor swell not with thy pride: thou liest; And this shall make it good. _Mount._ Out with your heat first, Ye shall be fought withal. _M[i]r._ By ---- that Lady, The virtue of that woman, were all the good deeds Of all thy families, bound in one Fagot, From _Adam_ to this hour, but with one sparkle Would fire that wispe, and turn it to light ashes. _Mount._ Oh pitiful young man, struck blind with beauty! Shot with a womans smile: poor, poor _Miranda_; Thou hopeful young man once; but now thou lost man: Thou naked man of all that we call Noble, How art thou cozen'd! didst thou know what I do, And how far thy dear honor (mark me fool) Which like a father I have kept from blasting, Thy tender honor is abus'd: but fight first, And then too late, thou shalt know all. _Mir._ Thou liest, still. _Mount._ Stay, now I'll shew thee all, and then I'll kill thee. I love thee so dear, time shall not disgrace thee. Read that. _Mir._ It is her hand: it is most certain; Good Angels keep me: that I should be her Agent To betray _Maltha_, and bring her to the _Basha_, That on my tender love lay all her project! Eyes never see again, melt out for sorrow, Did the Devil do this? _Mount._ No, but his Dam did it, The virtuous Lady that you love so dearly; Come, will ye fight again? _Mir._ No, prethee kill me: For Heaven sake, and for goodness sake dispatch me, For the disgrace sake that I gave thee, kill me. _Mount._ Why, are ye guilty? _Mir._ I have liv'd _Mountferrat_, To see dishonor swallow up all virtue, And now would die: by heavens eternal brightness, I am as clear as innocence. _Mount._ I knew it, And therefore kept this Letter from all knowledge, And this sword from anger, ye had died else. And yet I lye, and basely lye. _Mir._ O virtue! Unspotted virtue, whither art thou vanish'd? What hast thou left to abuse our frailties In shape of goodness? _Mount._ Come, take courage, man, I have forgiven, and forgot your rashness, And hold you fair as light in all your actions, And by my troth I griev'd your loves; take comfort, There be more women. _Mir._ And more mischief in 'em.