_Oria._ What is the confession of the lye you made to the Duke, which I scarce believe, yet you had impudence enough to do? did it not gain you so much faith with me, as that I was willing to be at your Lordships bestowing, till you had recover'd my credit, and confest your self a lyar, as you pretended to do? I confess I began to fear you, and desir'd to be out of your house, but your own followers forc'd me hither. _Gond._ 'Tis well suspected, dissemble still, for there are some may hear us. _Oria._ More tricks yet, my Lord? what house this is I know not, I only know my self: it were a great conquest, if you could fasten a scandal upon me: 'faith my Lord, give me leave to write to my brother? _Duke._ Come down. _Count._ Come down. _Arr._ If it please your Grace, there's a back door. _Count._ Come meet us there then. _Duke._ It seems you are acquainted with the house. _Arr._ I have been in it. _Gond._ She saw you and dissembled. _Duke._ Sir, we shall know that better. _Gond._ Bring me unto her, if I prove her not To be a strumpet, let me be contemn'd Of all her sex. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Lucio. _Luc._ Now whilst the young Duke follows his delights, We that do mean to practise in the State, Must pick our times, and set our faces in, And nod our heads as it may prove most fit For the main good of the dear Common-wealth: Who's within there? _Enter a Servant._ _Serv._ My Lord? _Luc._ Secretary, fetch the Gown I use to read Petitions in, and the Standish I answer French Letters with: and call in the Gentleman that attends: [_Exit Serv._ Little know they that do not deal in State, How many things there are to be observ'd, Which seem but little; yet by one of us (Whose brains do wind about the Common-wealth) Neglected, cracks our credits utterly. _Enter Gentleman and a Servant._ Sir, but that I do presume upon your secresie, I would not have appear'd to you thus ignorantly attir'd without a tooth-pick in a ribbond, or a Ring in my bandstring[s]. _Gent._ Your Lordship sen[t] for me? _Luc._ I did: Sir, your long practice in the State, under a great man, hath led you to much experience. _Gent._ My Lord. _Luc._ Suffer not your modesty to excuse it: in short, and in private, I desire your direction, I take my study already to be furnisht after a grave and wise method. _Gent._ What will this Lord do? _Luc._ My Book-strings are sutable, and of a reaching colour. _Gent._ How's this? _Luc._ My Standish of Wood, strange and sweet, and my fore-flap hangs in the right place, and as near _Machiavel's_, as can be gathered by tradition.