See, take this book: Return straight to Palermo: find some friend, 1480 Whom thou canst trust: commit it to her hands; Tell her to give it secretly to Livio, Bidding him read what is writ down in the margins; And say ’twas given to her by one she knew not, And with that message. All our happiness Is staked on this. Begone. Haste for thy life. _LUCIA._ Alas! what’s this? _Mar._ Why, have I frighted thee? Be brave: I tell thee on this single thread My life is hanging. _Lu._ Trust me, lady, I’d risk Ten lives for that. _Mar._ Hide it. I trust thee. Go. 1490 I have played a bold stroke here: but if it prosper, For Constance, and Giovanni, and myself, ’Tis not ill done. [_Exeunt._ SCENE · 3 _A room in the Palace. Enter HUGO and CONSTANCE._ _HUGO._ Thou hast a daughter’s duty, I a father’s: ’Tis mine to seek thy good, thine to obey. _CONSTANCE._ I pray thee, father, hear me. _Hu._ I have heard thee. Thou tellest me nought but what I know. The duke Hath been with me: his purpose to renew His suit hath my support. ’Tis very honourable— It shall be welcome. Though thy words to him 1500 Betrayed reluctance, that makes yet no reason To shun him. He will presently be here: Stay and receive him. _Con._ O, if I do not dream, Heaven help me now! _Hu._ Constance, I pray, be sober. I am sorry for thee: but what seems thy grief Will be thy comfort, when thou learn’st the cause Which presses me to urge it. _Con._ What lies behind? What misery? Say! _Hu._ Manuel, whom late we trusted, Hath turned against me. He hath joined the rebels. _Con._ Who dares to slander him? 1510 _Hu._ Fact makes no room For slander. The devil himself could not invent A tale to blacken him. First to the court He hath writ of me in secret, in the sense That I have stirred the king’s men to rebellion By my misrule; and all the while at home He feeds the mischief, and most treacherously Favours the rebels, so to magnify The blame on me he charges. _Con._ The crime’s too great. If this be all I breathe again. The time 1519 When thou wilt prove this ’twill away like smoke. Not till ’tis proved question our marriage, father. _Hu._ The question now with him is not of marriage, But of his head. _Con._ Shame, shame! if these be words, What is their sense? _Hu._ To-morrow, or to-day, I shall have proof.