_Sham._ Oh miserable satisfaction, Ten times more wretched than the wrong it self; Never was ill better made good with worse: Shall it be said, that my posterity Shall live the sole heir[es] of their fathers shame? And raise their wealth and glory from my stripes? You have provided nobly, bounteous Sir, For my disgrace, to make it live for ever, Out-lasting Brass or Marble: This is my fears construction, and a deep one, Which neither argument nor time can alter: Yet I dare swear, I wrong your goodness in't Sir, And the most fair intent on't, which I reverence With admiration, that in you a Prince, Should be so sweet and temperate a condition, To offer to restore where you may ruine, And do't with justice, and in me a servant, So harsh a disposition, that I cannot Forgive where I should honor, and am bound to't. But I have ever had that curiosity In bloud, and tenderness of reputation Such an antipathy against a blow, I cannot speak the rest: Good Sir discharge me, It is not fit that I should serve you more, Nor come so near you; I'm made now for privacy, And a retir'd condition, that's my suit: To part from Court for ever, my last suit; And as you profess bounty, grant me that Sir. _Duk[e]._ I would deny thee nothing. _Sham._ Health reward you, Sir. [_Exit._ _Duke._ He's gone agen already, and takes hold Of any opportunity: not riches Can purchase him, nor honors, peaceably, And force were brutish: what a great worth's gone with him, And but a Gentleman? well, for his sake, I'll ne'er offend more, those I cannot make; They were his words, and shall be dear to memory. Say I desire to see him once agen; Yet stay, he's so well forward of his peace, 'Twere pity to disturb him: he would groan Like a soul fetch'd agen; and that were injury, And I've wrong'd his degree too much already. Call forth the Gentlem[e]n of our chamber instantly. _1 Serv._ I shall my Lord. [_Within._ _Duke._ I may forget agen, And therefore will prevent: the strain of this Troubles me so, one would not hazard more. _Enter 1 Gent, and divers others._ _Gent._ Your Will my Lord? _Duke._ Yes; I discharge you all. _2 Gent._ My Lord-- _Duke._ Your places shall be otherwise dispos'd of. _4 Gent._ Why Sir? _Duke._ Reply not, I dismiss you all: Y'are Gentlemen, your worths will find you fortunes; Nor shall your farewell taxe me of ingratitude. I'll give you all noble remembrances, As testimonies 'gainst reproach and malice, That you departed lov'd. _3 Gen._ This is most strange, Sir. _1 Gent._ But how is your Grace furnish'd, these dismiss'd?