Nicholas. I can gain nothing; They are two that never wronged me. I knew before ’Twas but a thankless office, and perhaps As much as is my service, or my life Is worth. All this I know; but this and more, More by a thousand dangers, could not hire me To smother such a heinous wrong from you. I saw, and I have said. Frankford. [_Aside_.] ’Tis probable; though blunt, yet he is honest: Though I durst pawn my life, and on their faith Hazard the dear salvation of my soul, Yet in my trust I may be too secure. May this be true? O, may it, can it be? Is it by any wonder possible? Man, woman, what thing mortal may we trust, When friends and bosom wives prove so unjust?-- [_To_ Nicholas.] What instance hast thou of this strange report? Nicholas. Eyes, eyes. Frankford. Thy eyes may be deceived, I tell thee: For, should an angel from the heavens drop down, And preach this to me that thyself hast told, He should have much ado to win belief; In both their loves I am so confident. Nicholas. Shall I discourse the same by circumstance? Frankford. No more! to supper, and command your fellows To attend us and the strangers. Not a word, I charge thee on thy life: be secret then, For I know nothing. Nicholas. I am dumb; and, now that I have eased my stomach, I will go fill my stomach. Frankford. Away; be gone. [_Exit_ Nicholas. She is well born, descended nobly; Virtuous her education, her repute Is in the general voice of all the country Honest and fair; her carriage, her demeanour, In all her actions that concern the love To me her husband, modest, chaste, and godly. Is all this seeming gold plain copper? But he, that Judas that hath borne my purse, And sold me for a sin!--O God! O God! Shall I put up these wrongs? No. Shall I trust The bare report of this suspicious groom, Before the double-gilt, the well-hatched ore Of their two hearts? No, I will lose these thoughts: Distraction I will banish from my brow, And from my looks exile sad discontent, Their wonted favours in my tongue shall flow; Till I know all, I’ll nothing seem to know. Lights and a table there! Wife, Master Wendoll, And gentle Master Cranwell. _Enter_ Mistress Frankford, Wendoll, Cranwell, Nicholas, _and_ Jenkin, _with cards, carpets, stools, and other necessaries_. Frankford. O Master Cranwell, you are a stranger here, And often baulk my house: faith, y’are a churl: Now we have supped, a table, and to cards. Jenkin. A pair of cards,[1.28] Nicholas, and a carpet to cover the table. Where’s Cicely with her counters and her box? Candles and candlesticks there! Fie, we have such a household of serving creatures! unless it be Nick and I, there’s not one amongst them all can say bo to a goose. Well said,[1.29] Nick. [_They spread a carpet, set down lights and cards_. Mistress Frankford. Come, Master Frankford, who shall take my part?