_Men._ Why, tell me, fair-cheeked lady, who even in tears art powerfully beauteous, what unadvised passion struck ye into such a violent heat against me? Speak, what mischief wronged us? what devil injured us? speak. 103 _Aur._ The thing ne'er worthy of the name of man, Ferneze; Ferneze swore thou lov'[d]st Emilia; Which to advance, with most reproachful breath Thou both didst blemish and denounce my love. _Men._ Ignoble villain! did I for this bestride Thy wounded limbs? for[444] this, rank opposite Even to my sovereign? for this, O God, for this, 110 Sunk all my hopes, and with my hopes my life? Ripp'd bare my throat unto the hangman's axe?-- Thou most dishonoured trunk!--Emilia! By life, I know her not--Emilia!-- Did you believe him? _Aur._ Pardon me, I did. _Men._ Did you? and thereupon you gracèd him? _Aur._ I did. _Men._ Took him to favour, nay, even clasp'd with him? _Aur._ Alas, I did! _Men._ This night? 120 _Aur._ This night. _Men._ And in your lustful twines the duke took you? _Aur._ A most sad truth. _Men._ O God, O God! how we dull honest souls, Heavy-brain'd men, are swallow'd in the bogs Of a deceitful ground! whilst nimble bloods, Light-jointed spirits speed;[445] cut good men's throats, And 'scape. Alas, I am too honest for this age, Too full of fleam and heavy steadiness; Stood still whilst this slave cast a noose about me; 130 Nay, then to stand in honour of him and her, Who had even slic'd my heart! _Aur._ Come, I did err, And am most sorry I did err. _Men._ Why, we are both but dead: the duke hates us; And those whom princes do once groundly hate, Let them provide to die, as sure as fate. Prevention is the heart of policy. _Aur._ Shall we murder him? _Men._ Instantly? _Aur._ Instantly; before he casts a plot, 140 Or further blaze my honour's much-known blot, Let's murder him. _Men._ I would do much for you: will ye marry me? _Aur._ I'll make thee duke. We are of Medicis; Florence our friend; in court my faction Not meanly strengthful; the duke then dead; We well prepar'd for change; the multitude Irresolutely reeling; we in force; Our party seconded; the kingdom maz'd; No doubt of swift success all shall be grac'd. 150 _Men._ You do confirm me; we are resolute: To-morrow look for change; rest confident. 'Tis now about the immodest waist of night: The mother of moist dew with pallid light Spreads gloomy shades about the numbèd earth. Sleep, sleep, whilst we contrive our mischief's birth. This man I'll get inhum'd. Farewell: to bed; Ay, kiss thy[446] pillow, dream the duke is dead. So, so, good night. [_Exit_ AURELIA.