_Count._ If he have the itch of Knighthood upon him, let him repair to that Physitian, he'll cure him: but I will give you a note; is your friend fat or lean? _Laz._ Something fat. _Count._ 'Twill be the worse for him. _Laza._ I hope that's not material. _Count._ Very much, for there is an impost set upon Knighthoods, & your friend shall pay a Noble in the pound. _Duke._ I doe not like examinations, We shall find out the truth more easily, Some other way less noted, and that course, Should not be us'd, till we be sure to prove Some thing directly, for when they perceive Themselves suspected, they will then provide More warily to answer. _Luc._ Doth she know your Grace doth love her? _Duke._ She hath never heard it. _Luc._ Then thus my Lord. [_They whisper_ _Laz._ What's he that walks [_again_ alone so sadly with his hands behind him? _Count._ The Lord of the house, he that you desire to be acquainted with, he doth hate women for the same cause that I love them. _Laz._ What's that? _Count._ For that which Apes want: you perceive me Sir? _Laz._ And is he sad? Can he be sad that hath so rich a gem under his roof, as that which I doe follow. What young Lady's that? _Count._ Which? Have I mine eye-sight perfect, 'tis my sister: did I say the Duke had a Bastard? What should she make here with him and his Councell? She hath no papers in her hand to petition to them, she hath never a husband in prison, whose release she might sue for: That's a fine trick for a wench; to get her husband clapt up, that she may more freely, and with less suspition, visit the private studies of men in authority. Now I doe discover their consultation, yon fellow is a Pander without all salvation: But let me not condemn her too rashly without weighing the matter; she's a young Lady, she went forth early this morning with a waiting woman, and a Page, or so: This is no garden house; in my conscience she went forth with no dishonest intent: for she did not pretend going to any Sermon in the further end of the City: Neither went she to see any odd old Gentlewoman, that mourns for the death of her husband, or the loss of her friend, and must have young Ladys come to comfort her: those are the damnable Bawds: 'Twas no set meeting certainly; for there was no wafer-woman with her these three days on my knowledge: I'll talk with her; Good morrow my Lord. _Gond._ Y'are welcome Sir: here's her brother come now to doe a kind office for his sister; is it not strange? _Count._ I am glad to meet you here sister. _Orian._ I thank you good brother: and if you doubt of the cause of my coming I can satisfie you.