Flam. He carried his face in 's ruff, as I have seen a serving-man carry glasses in a cypress hatband, monstrous steady, for fear of breaking; he looks like the claw of a blackbird, first salted, and then broiled in a candle. [Exeunt. SCENE II The Arraignment of Vittoria Enter Francisco, Monticelso, the six Lieger Ambassadors, Brachiano, Vittoria, Zanche, Flamineo, Marcello, Lawyer, and a Guard. Mont. Forbear, my lord, here is no place assign'd you. This business, by his Holiness, is left To our examination. Brach. May it thrive with you. [Lays a rich gown under him. Fran. A chair there for his Lordship. Brach. Forbear your kindness: an unbidden guest Should travel as Dutch women go to church, Bear their stools with them. Mont. At your pleasure, sir. Stand to the table, gentlewoman. Now, signior, Fall to your plea. Lawyer. Domine judex, converte oculos in hanc pestem, mulierum corruptissiman. Vit. What 's he? Fran. A lawyer that pleads against you. Vit. Pray, my lord, let him speak his usual tongue, I 'll make no answer else. Fran. Why, you understand Latin. Vit. I do, sir, but amongst this auditory Which come to hear my cause, the half or more May be ignorant in 't. Mont. Go on, sir. Vit. By your favour, I will not have my accusation clouded In a strange tongue: all this assembly Shall hear what you can charge me with. Fran. Signior, You need not stand on 't much; pray, change your language. Mont. Oh, for God's sake--Gentlewoman, your credit Shall be more famous by it. Lawyer. Well then, have at you. Vit. I am at the mark, sir; I 'll give aim to you, And tell you how near you shoot. Lawyer. Most literated judges, please your lordships So to connive your judgments to the view Of this debauch'd and diversivolent woman; Who such a black concatenation Of mischief hath effected, that to extirp The memory of 't, must be the consummation Of her, and her projections---- Vit. What 's all this? Lawyer. Hold your peace! Exorbitant sins must have exulceration. Vit. Surely, my lords, this lawyer here hath swallow'd Some 'pothecaries' bills, or proclamations; And now the hard and undigestible words Come up, like stones we use give hawks for physic. Why, this is Welsh to Latin. Lawyer. My lords, the woman Knows not her tropes, nor figures, nor is perfect In the academic derivation Of grammatical elocution. Fran. Sir, your pains Shall be well spar'd, and your deep eloquence Be worthily applauded amongst thouse Which understand you. Lawyer. My good lord. Fran. Sir, Put up your papers in your fustian bag-- [Francisco speaks this as in scorn. Cry mercy, sir, 'tis buckram and accept My notion of your learn'd verbosity.