_Iag._ I, and behau’d her selfe Most royall, and discreetly: Insomuch, Shee put the Iudges to a non-plus, Sir; Defending and excusing eythers cause, Vntill _Nicanor_, with his kind aduice, Desir’d the King they might be tortured, To see if that would force confession. _Lor._ Was he the onely Tyrant? Well, ere long It may be in Our power to quittance him. I’me glad I know the Serpents subtiltie. But how concluded they? _Iag._ I was so vext, I could not stay a full conclusion. The Prisoners were dismist before I came: But how they did determine afterwards, I long to heare. But what intends your Grace In this disguise? _Lor._ To visit the sicke Court, And free my Sister from captiuitie, With that good Prince _Lisandro_. _Enter_ Misogynos _and_ Scanfardo. _Mis._ A Woman! Why the more I thinke of their wickednesse, The more incomprehensible I find it; For they are, coozening, cologuing, vngrateful, deceitful, Wauering, waspish, light, toyish, proud, sullen, Discourteous, cruell, vnconstant; and what not? Yet, they were created, and by nature formed, And therefore of all men to be auoyded. _Lor._ Oh impious conclusion! What is hee? _Iag._ I ne’r had conuersation with him yet; But (by report) I’le tell you, He’s a man, Who’s breeding has beene like the Scarrabee, Altogether vpon the excrement of the time; And being swolne with poysonous vapors, He breakes wind in publique, to blast the Reputation of all Women; His acquaintance Has bin altogether amongst Whores and Bawds, And therefore speakes but in’s owne element. His owne vnworthie foule deformitie, Because no Female can affect the same, Begets in him despaire; and despaire, enuie. He cares not to defame their very soules, But that he’s of the Turkes opinion: They haue none. He is the Viper, that not onely gnawes Vpon his Mothers fame, but seekes to eat Thorow all Womens reputations. _Lor._ Is’t possible! that Sicilie should breed Such a degenerate Monster, shame of men? _Iag._ Blame not your Countrie, he’s an Englishman. _Lor._ I will not see the glories of that Sexe Be-spawld by such a dogged Humorist, And passe vnpunisht. _Iag._ What intends your Grace? _Lor._ To vndertake this iust and honest quarrell, In the defence of Vertue, till I haue Seuerely punisht his opprobrious word, Committed against Women, who’s iust fame Merits an Angels Pen to register. _Scan._ Sir, you haue alter’d me, I thanke you for’t. _Mis._ Oh! they are all the very pits of Sin, Which men, for want of wisdome, fall into. _Scan._ I see it, Sir, and will proclaime as much. _Exit Scan._ _Lor._ Leaue me, _Iago_. _Iag._ I’me gone, sweet Prince. _Lor._ Tell me, thou iangling Mastiffe, with what feare Dar’st thou behold that too much wronged Sex, Whose Vertues thou hast basely slander’d? _Mis._ Ha, ha, ha.