Act 3, Scene I

Scene: The Garden of the same House.

Enter DE GARD and LUGIER.

De Gard.
I know you are a scholar, and can do wonders.
Lugier.
There's no great scholarship belongs to this, sir;
What I am, I am: I pity your poor sister,
And heartily I hate these travellers,
These gimcracks, made of mops and motions:
There's nothing in their houses here but hummings;
A bee has more brains. I grieve and vex too
The insolent licentious carriage
Of this out-facing fellow Mirabel;
And I am mad to see him prick his plumes up.
De Gard.
His wrongs you partly know.
Lugier.
Do not you stir, sir;
Since he has begun with wit, let wit revenge it:
Keep your sword close; we'll cut his throat a new way.
I am ashamed the gentlewoman should suffer
Such base, lewd wrongs.
De Gard.
I will be ruled; he shall live,
And left to your revenge.
Lugier.
Ay, ay, I'll fit him:
He makes a common scorn of handsome women;
Modesty and good manners are his may-games;
He takes up maidenheads with a new commission;
The church-warrant's out of date. Follow my counsel,
For I am zealous in the cause.
De Gard.
I will, sir,
And will be still directed; for the truth is,
My sword will make my sister seem more monstrous:
Besides, there is no honour won on reprobates.
Lugier.
You are i' th' right. The slight he has show'd my pupils
Sets me a-fire too. Go; I'll prepare your sister,
And, as I told you——
De Gard.
Yes; all shall be fit, sir.
Lugier.
And seriously and handsomely.
De Gard.
I warrant you.
Lugier.
A little counsel more.
[Whispers.
De Gard.
'Tis well.
Lugier.
Most stately!
See that observed and then!
De Gard.
I have you every way.
Lugier.
Away then, and be ready.
De Gard.
With all speed, sir.
[Exit.
Lugier.
We'll learn to travel too, may be, beyond him.

Enter LILLIA, ROSALURA, and ORIANA.

Good day, fair beauties!

Lillia-Bianca.
You have beautified us.
We thank you, sir; you have set us off most gallantly
With your grave precepts.
Rosalura.
We expected husbands
Out of your documents and taught behaviours,
Excellent husbands; thought men would run stark mad on us,
Men of all ages, and all states; we expected
An inundation of desires and offers,
A torrent of trim suitors; all we did,
Or said, or purposed, to be spells about us,
Spells to provoke.
Lillia-Bianca.
You have provoked us finely!
We follow'd your directions, we did rarely,
We were stately, coy, demure, careless, light, giddy,
And play'd at all points: This, you swore, would carry.
Rosalura.
We made love, and contemn'd love; now seem'd holy,
With such a reverend put-on reservation
Which could not miss, according to your principles;
Now gave more hope again; now close, now public,
Still up and down we beat it like a billow;
And ever those behaviours you read to us,
Subtle, and new: But all this will not help us!
Lillia-Bianca.
They help to hinder us of all acquaintance,
They have frighted off all friends! What am I better
For all my learning, if I love a dunce,
A handsome dunce? to what use serves my reading?
You should have taught me what belongs to horses,
Dogs, dice, hawks, banquets, masques, free and fair meetings,
To have studied gowns and dressings,
Lugier.
Ye are not mad, sure!
Rosalura.
We shall be, if we follow your encouragements:
I'll take mine own way now!
Lillia-Bianca.
And I my fortune;
We may live maids else till the moon drop millstones.
I see, your modest women are taken for monsters;
A dowry of good breeding is worth nothing.
Lugier.
Since ye take it so to th' heart, pray ye give me leave yet,
And you shall see how I'll convert this heretic:
Mark how this Mirabel——
Lillia-Bianca.
Name him no more;
For, though I long for a husband, I hate him,
And would be married sooner to a monkey,
Or to a Jack of Straw, than such a juggler.
Rosalura.
I am of that mind too; he is too nimble,
And plays at fast and loose too learnedly,
For a plain-meaning woman; that's the truth on't.
Here's one too, that we love well, would be angry;
[Pointing to Oriana.
And reason why. No, no, we will not trouble you
Nor him at this time: May he make you happy!
We'll turn ourselves loose now, to our fair fortunes;
And the down-right way
Lillia-Bianca.
The winning way we'll follow;
We'll bait that men may bite fair, and not be frighted;
Yet we'll not be carried so cheap neither; we'll have some sport,
Some mad-morris or other for our money, tutor.
Lugier.
'Tis like enough: Prosper your own devices!
Ye are old enough to chuse: But, for this gentlewoman,
So please her give me leave——
Oriana.
I shall be glad, sir,
To find a friend whose pity may direct me.
Lugier.
I'll do my best, and faithfully deal for ye;
But then ye must be ruled.
Oriana.
In all, I vow to you.
Rosalura.
Do, do: He has a lucky hand sometimes, I'll assure you;
And hunts the recovery of a lost lover deadly.
Lugier.
You must away straight.
Oriana.
Yes.
Lugier.
And I'll instruct you:
Here you can know no more.
Oriana.
By your leave, sweet ladies
And all our fortunes arrive at our own wishes!
Lillia-Bianca.
Amen, amen!
Lugier.
I must borrow your man.
Lillia-Bianca.
Pray take him;
He is within: To do her good, take anything,
Take us and all.
Lugier.
No doubt, ye may find takers;
And so we'll leave ye to your own disposes.
[Exeunt Lugier and Oriana.
Lillia-Bianca.
Now, which way, wench?
Rosalura.
We'll go a brave way, fear not;
A safe and sure way too; and yet a bye-way.
I must confess, I have a great mind to be married.
Lillia-Bianca.
So have I too a grudging of good-will that way;
And would as fain be dispatched. But this monsieur Quicksilver——
Rosalura.
No, no; we'll bar him, bye and main: Let him trample:
There is no safety in his surquedry:
An army-royal of women are too few for him;
He keeps a journal of his gentleness,
And will go near to print his fair dispatches,
And call it his triumph over time and women:
Let him pass out of memory! What think you
Of his two companions?
Lillia-Bianca.
Pinac, methinks, is reasonable;
A little modesty he has brought home with him,
And might be taught, in time, some handsome duty.
Rosalura.
They say, he is a wencher too.
Lillia-Bianca.
I like him better;
A free light touch or two becomes a gentleman,
And sets him seemly off: So he exceed not,
But keep his compass clear, he may be look'd at.
I would not marry a man that must be taught,
And conjured up with kisses; the best game
Is play'd still by the best gamesters.
Rosalura.
Fy upon thee!
What talk hast thou?
Lillia-Bianca.
Are not we alone, and merry?
Why should we be ashamed to speak what we think? Thy gentleman,
The tall fat fellow, he that came to see thee——
Rosalura.
Is't not a goodly man?
Lillia-Bianca.
A wondrous goodly!
He has weight enough, I warrant thee: Mercy upon me,
What a serpent wilt thou seem under such a St. George!
Rosalura.
Thou art a fool! Give me a man brings mettle,
Brings substance with him, needs no broths to lare him.
These little fellows show like fleas in boxes,
Hop up and down, and keep a stir to vex us:
Give me the puissant pike; take you the small shot.
Lillia-Bianca.
Of a great thing, I have not seen a duller:
Therefore, methinks, sweet sister——
Rosalura.
Peace, he's modest;
A bashfulness; which is a point of grace, wench:
But, when these fellows come to moulding, sister,
To heat, and handling.—As I live, I like him;
And, methinks, I could form him.

Enter MIRABEL.

Lillia-Bianca.
Peace! the fire-drake.
Mirabel.
Bless ye, sweet beauties, sweet incomparable ladies,
Sweet wits, sweet humours! Bless you, learned lady!
And you, most holy nun! Bless your devotions!
Lillia-Bianca.
And bless your brains, sir, your most pregnant brains, sir!
They are in travail; may they be deliver'd
Of a most hopeful Wild-Goose!
Rosalura.
Bless your manhood!
They say you are a gentleman of action,
A fair accomplished man, and a rare engineer;
You have a trick to blow up maidenheads,
A subtle trick, they say abroad.
Mirabel.
I have, lady.
Rosalura.
And often glory in their ruins.
Mirabel.
Yes, forsooth;
I have a speedy trick, please you to try it:
My engine will dispatch you instantly.
Rosalura.
I would I were a woman, sir, fit for you,
As there be such, no doubt, may engine you too;
May, with a counter-mine, blow up your valour.
But, in good faith, sir, we are both too honest;
And, the plague is, we cannot be persuaded:
For, look you, if we thought it were a glory
To be the last of all your lovely ladies
Mirabel.
Come, come; leave prating: This has spoil'd your market!
This pride and puft-up heart will make ye fast, ladies,
Fast, when ye are hungry too.
Rosalura.
The more our pain, sir.
Lillia-Bianca.
The more our health, I hope too.
Mirabel.
Your behaviours
Have made men stand amazed; those men that loved ye;
Men of fair states and parts. Your strange conversions
Into I know not what, nor how, nor wherefore;
Your scorns of those that came to visit ye;
Your studied whim-whams, and your fine set faces:
What have these got ye? Proud and harsh opinions!
A travell'd monsieur was the strangest creature,
The wildest monster to be wonder'd at;
His person made a public scoff, his knowledge
(As if he had been bred 'mongst bears or bandogs)
Shunn'd and avoided; his conversation snuff'd at:
What harvest brings all this?
Rosalura.
I pray you proceed, sir.
Mirabel.
Now ye shall see in what esteem a traveller,
An understanding gentleman, and a monsieur,
Is to be held; and to your griefs confess it,
Both to your griefs and galls!
Lillia-Bianca.
In what, I pray ye, sir?
We would be glad to understand your excellence. .
Mirabel.
Go on, sweet ladies; it becomes ye rarely!
For me, I have blest me from ye; scoff on seriously,
And note the man ye mock'd. You, lady Learning,
Note the poor traveller that came to visit ye,
That flat unfurnished fellow; note him throughly!
You may chance to see him anon. .
Lillia-Bianca.
'Tis very likely.
Mirabel.
And see him courted by a travell'd lady,
Held dear, and honour'd by a virtuous virgin;
May be a beauty not far short of yours neither;
It may be, clearer.
Lillia-Bianca.
Not unlikely.
Mirabel.
Younger:
As killing eyes as yours, a wit as poignant;
May be, a state too that may top your fortune:
Inquire how she thinks of him, how she holds him;
His good parts, in what precious price already;
Being a stranger to him, how she courts him;
A stranger to his nation too, how she dotes on him;
Inquire of this; be sick to know: Curse, lady,
And keep your chamber; cry, and curse! A sweet one,
A thousand in yearly land, well bred, well friended,
Travell'd, and highly follow'd for her fashions!
Lillia-Bianca.
Bless his good fortune, sir.
Mirabel.
This scurvy fellow,
I think they call his name Pinac, this serving-man
That brought you venison, as I take it, madam,
Note but this scab! 'Tis strange, that this coarse creature,
That has no more set-off but his jugglings,
His travell'd tricks——
Lillia-Bianca.
Good sir, I grieve not at him,
Nor envy not his fortune: Yet I wonder!
He's handsome, yet I see no such perfection.
Mirabel.
'Would I had his fortune! for it is a woman
Of that sweet-temper'd nature, and that judgment,
Besides her state, that care, clear understanding,
And such a wife to bless him
Rosalura.
Pray you whence is she?
Mirabel.
Of England, and a most accomplished lady;
So modest that men's eyes are frighted at her,
And such a noble carriage—How now, sirrah?

Enter a Boy.

Boy.    
Sir, the great English lady——
Mirabel.
What of her, sir?
Boy.    
Has newly left her coach, and coming this way,
Where you may see her plain: Monsieur Pinac
The only man that leads her.

Enter PINAC, MARIANA, and Attendants.

Mirabel.
He is much honour'd
'Would I had such a favour!—Now vex, ladies,
Envy, and vex, and rail!
Rosalura.
You are short of us, sir.
Mirabel.
Bless your fair fortune, sir!
Pinac.
I nobly thank you.
Mirabel.
Is she married, friend?
Pinac.
No, no.
Mirabel.
A goodly lady;
A sweet and delicate aspéct!—Mark, mark, and wonder!
Hast thou any hope of her?
Pinac.
A little.
Mirabel.
Follow close then;
Lose not that hope.
Pinac.
To you, sir.
[Mariana courtesies to him.
Mirabel.
Gentle lady!
Rosalura.
She is fair, indeed.
Lillia-Bianca.
I have seen a fairer; yet
She is well.
Rosalura.
Her clothes sit handsome too.
Lillia-Bianca.
She dresses prettily.
Rosalura.
And, by my faith, she's rich; she looks still sweeter.
A well-bred woman, I warrant her.
Lillia-Bianca.
Do you hear, sir?
May I crave this gentlewoman's name?
Pinac.
Mariana, lady.
Lillia-Bianca.
I will not say I owe you a quarrel, monsieur,
For making me your stale! A noble gentleman
Would have had more courtesy, at least more faith,
Than to turn off his mistress at first trial:
You know not what respect I might have show'd you;
I find you have worth.
Pinac.
I cannot stay to answer you;
You see my charge. I am beholding to you
For all your merry tricks you put upon me,
Your bobbs, and base accounts: I came to love you,
To woo you, and to serve you; I am much indebted to you
For dancing me off my legs, and then for walking me,
For telling me strange tales I never heard of,
More to abuse me; for mistaking me,
When you both knew I was a gentleman,
And one deserved as rich a match as you are!
Lillia-Bianca.
Be not so bitter, sir.
Pinac.
You see this lady:
She is young enough, and fair enough, to please me;
A woman of a loving mind, a quiet,
And one that weighs the worth of him that loves her;
I am content with this, and bless my fortune:
Your curious wits, and beauties
Lillia-Bianca.
'Faith, see me once more.
Pinac.
I dare not trouble you.
Lillia-Bianca.
May I speak to your lady?
Pinac.
I pray you content yourself: I know you are bitter,
And, in your bitterness, You may abuse her;
Which, if she comes to know (for she understands you not)
It may breed such a quarrel to your kindred,
And such an indiscretion fling on you too
(For she is nobly friended)
Lillia-Bianca.
I could eat her!
[Aside.
Pinac.
Rest as ye are, a modest noble gentlewoman,
And afford your honest neighbours some of your prayers.
[Exeunt Pinac, Mariana, and Attendants.
Mirabel.
What think you now?
Lillia-Bianca.
'Faith, she's a pretty whiting;
She has got a pretty catch too!
Mirabel.
You are angry,
Monstrous angry now, grievously angry;
And the pretty heart does swell now!
Lillia-Bianca.
No, in troth, sir.
Mirabel.
And it will cry anon, “A pox upon it!”
And it will curse itself, and eat no meat, lady;
And it will sigh!
Lillia-Bianca.
Indeed you are mistaken;
It will be very merry.
Rosalura.
Why, sir, do you think
There are no more men living, nor no handsomer,
Than he, or you? By this light, there be ten thousand,
Ten thousand thousand! Comfort yourself, dear monsieur!
Faces, and bodies, wits, and all abiliments:
There are so many we regard 'em not.
Mirabel.
That such a noble lady—I could burst now!
So far above such trifles——

Enter BELLEUR, and two Gentlemen.

Belleur.
You did laugh at me;
And I know why ye laugh'd!
1 Gentleman.
I pray ye be satisfied
If we did laugh, we had some private reason,
And not at you.
2 Gentleman.
Alas, we know you not, sir.
Belleur.
I'll make you know me! Set your faces soberly;
Stand this way, and look sad; I'll be no may-game!
Sadder, demurer yet!
Rosalura.
What is the matter?
What ails this gentleman?
Belleur.
Go off now backward, that I may behold ye;
And not a simper, on your lives!
[Exeunt Gentlemen.
Lillia-Bianca.
He's mad, sure.
Belleur.
Do you observe me too?
Mirabel.
I may look on you.
Belleur.
Why do you grin? I know your mind.
Mirabel.
You do not.
You are strangely humorous: Is there no mirth nor pleasure
But you must be the object?
Belleur.
Mark, and observe me: Wherever I am named,
The very word shall raise a general sadness,
For the disgrace this scurvy woman did me,
This proud pert thing! Take heed you laugh not at me:
Provoke me not; take heed!
Rosalura.
I would fain please you;
Do anything to keep you quiet.
Belleur.
Hear me:
Till I receive a satisfaction
Equal to the disgrace and scorn you gave me,
You are a wretched woman; till thou woo'st me,
And I scorn thee as much, as seriously
Jeer and abuse thee; ask, what Gill thou art,
Or any baser name; I will proclaim thee,
I will so sing thy virtue, so be-paint thee——
Rosalura.
Nay, good sir, be more modest.
Belleur.
Do you laugh again?
Because you are a woman, you are lawless,
And out of compass of an honest anger.
Rosalura.
Good sir, have a better belief of me.
Lillia-Bianca.
Away, dear sister.
[Exeunt Rosalura and Lillia.
Mirabel.
Is not this better now, this seeming madness,
Than falling out with your friends?
Belleur.
Have I not frighted her?
Mirabel.
Into her right wits, I warrant thee: Follow this humour,
And thou shalt see how prosperously 'twill guide thee.
Belleur.
I am glad I have found a way to woo yet; I was afraid once
I never should have made a civil suitor.
Well, I'll about it still.
Mirabel.
Do, do, and prosper.—
[Exit Belleur.
What sport do I make with these fools! what pleasure
Feeds me, and fats my sides at their poor innocence!
Wooing and wiving! hang it! give me mirth,
Witty and dainty mirth! I shall grow in love, sure,
With mine own happy head.

Enter LUGIER.

With mine own happy head. Who's this?—To me, sir?
What youth is this?

Lugier.
Yes, sir, I would speak with you,
If your name be monsieur Mirabel.
Mirabel.
You have hit it:
Your business, I beseech you?
Lugier.
This it is, sir;
There is a gentlewoman hath long time affected you,
And loved you dearly.
Mirabel.
Turn over, and end that story;
'Tis long enough: I have no faith in women, sir.
Lugier.
It seems so, sir: I do not come to woo for her,
Or sing her praises, though she well deserve 'em;
I come to tell you, you have been cruel to her,
Unkind and cruel, false of faith, and careless;
Taking more pleasure in abusing her,
Wresting her honour to your wild disposes,
Than noble in requiting her affection:
Which, as you are a man, I must desire you
(A gentleman of rank) not to persist in,
No more to load her fair name with your injuries.
Mirabel.
Why, I beseech you, sir?
Lugier.
Good sir, I'll tell you.
And I'll be short; I'll tell you, because I love you;
Because I would have you shun the shame may follow,
There is a nobleman, new come to town, sir,
A noble and a great man, that affects her,
(A countryman of mine, a brave Savoyan,
Nephew to th' duke) and so much honours her,
That 'twill be dangerous to pursue your old way,
To touch at anything concerns her honour,
Believe, most dangerous: Her name is Oriana,
And this great man will marry her. Take heed, sir;
For howsoe'er her brother, a staid gentleman,
Lets things pass upon better hopes, this lord, sir,
Is of that fiery and that poignant metal
(Especially provoked on by affection)
That 'twill be hard—But you are wise.
Mirabel.
A lord, sir?
Lugier.
Yes, and a noble lord.
Mirabel.
'Send her good fortune!
This will not stir her lord?—A baroness?
Say you so? say you so? By'r lady, a brave title!
Top, and top—gallant now! Save her great ladyship!
I was a poor servant of hers, I must confess, sir,
And in those days I thought I might be jovy,
And make a little bold to call in to her;
But, basta! now I know my rules and distance
Yet, if she want an usher, such an implement,
One that is throughly paced, a clean-made gentleman,
Can hold a hanging up with approbation,
Plant his hat formally, and wait with patience,
I do beseech you, sir——
Lugier.
Sir, leave your scoffing,
And, as you are a gentleman, deal fairly:
I have given you a friend's counsel; so I'll leave you.
Mirabel.
But, hark ye, hark ye, sir! Is't possible
I may believe what you say?
Lugier.
You may choose, sir.
Mirabel.
No baits? no fish-hooks, sir? no gins? no nooses?
No pitfalls to catch puppies?
Lugier.
I tell you certain:
You may believe; if not, stand to the danger!
[Exit.
Mirabel.
A lord of Savoy, says he? the duke's nephew?
A man so mighty? By'r lady, a fair marriage!
By my faith a handsome fortune! I must leave prating:
For, to confess the truth, I have abused her,
For which I should be sorry, but that will seem scurvy.
I must confess she was, ever since I knew her,
As modest as she was fair; I am sure she loved me;
Her means good, and her breeding excellent;
And for my sake she has refused fair matches:
I may play the fool finely.—Stay! who are these?

Enter DE GARD disguised, ORIANA, and Attendants.

'Tis she, I am sure; and that the lord, it should seem;
He carries a fair port, is a handsome man too.
I do begin to feel I am a coxcomb.

Oriana.
Good my lord, chuse a nobler; for I know
I am so far below your rank and honour,
That what you can say this way, I must credit
But spoken to beget yourself sport. Alas, sir,
I am so far off from deserving you,
My beauty so unfit for your affection,
That I am grown the scorn of common railers,
Of such injurious things, that, when they cannot
Reach at my person, lie with my reputation.
I am poor, besides.
De Gard.
You are all wealth and goodness;
And none but such as are the scum of men,
The ulcers of an honest state, spite-weavers,
That live on poison only, like swoln spiders,
Dare once profane such excellence, such sweetness.
Mirabel.
This man speaks loud indeed.
De Gard.
Name but the men, lady;
Let me but know these poor and base depravers,
Lay but to my revenge their persons open,
And you shall see how suddenly, how fully,
For your most beauteous sake, how direfully,
I'll handle their despites. Is this thing one?
Be what he will——
Mirabel.
Sir!
De Gard.
Dare your malicious tongue, sir——
Mirabel.
I know you not, nor what you mean.
Oriana.
Good my lord!
De Gard.
If he, or any he——
Oriana.
I beseech your honour!
This gentleman's a stranger to my knowledge;
And, no doubt, sir, a worthy man.
De Gard.
Your mercy!
But, had he been a tainter of your honour,
A blaster of those beauties reign within you——
But we shall find a fitter time. Dear lady,
As soon as I have freed you from your guardian,
And done some honour'd offices unto you,
I'll take you, with those faults the world flings on you,
And dearer than the whole world I'll esteem you!
[Exeunt.
Mirabel.
This is a thundering lord: I am glad I 'scaped him.
How lovingly the wench disclaimed my villainy!
I am vex'd now heartily, that he shall have her;
Not that I care to marry, or to lose her,
But that this bilbo-lord shall reap that maidenhead
That was my due that he shall rig and top her!
I'd give a thousand crowns now, he might miss her.

Enter a Servant.

Servant.
Nay, if I bear your blows, and keep your counsel,
You have good luck, sir: I'll teach you to strike lighter.
Mirabel.
Come hither, honest fellow: Canst thou tell me
Where this great lord lies? this Savoy lord? Thou met'st him;
He now went by thee, certain.
Servant.
Yes, he did, Sir;
I know him, and I know you are fool'd.
Mirabel.
Come hither;
[Gives money.
Here's all this, give me truth.
Servant.
Not for your money
(And yet that may do much), but I have been beaten,
And by the worshipful contrivers beaten, and I'll tell you.
This is no lord, no Savoy lord.
Mirabel.
Go forward.
Servant.
This is a trick, and put upon you grossly
By one Lugier: The lord is monsieur De Gard, sir,
An honest gentleman, and a neighbour here:
Their ends you understand better than I, sure.
Mirabel.
Now I know him;
Know him now plain!
Servant.
I have discharged my choler; so God be wi' you, sir!
[Exit.
Mirabel.
What a purblind puppy was I! Now I remember him;
All the whole cast on's face, though it were umber'd,
And mask'd with patches. What a dunder-whelp,
To let him domineer thus! How he strutted,
And what a load of lord he clapt upon him!
'Would I had him here again! I would so bounce him,
I would so thank his lordship for his lewd plot——
Do they think to carry it away, with a great band made of bird-pots,
And a pair of pin-buttock'd breeches ?—Ha!

Enter DE GARD, ORIANA, and Attendants.

'Tis he again; he comes, he comes, he comes! have at him.—

[Sings.
My Savoy lord, why dost thou frown on me?
And will that favour never sweeter be?
Wilt thou, I say, for ever play the fool?
De Gard, be wise, and, Savoy, go to school!
My lord De Gard, I thank you for your antick;
My lady bright, that will be sometimes frantic;
Your worthy train that wait upon this pair,
—'Send you more wit, and them a bouncing bair!
And so I take my humble, leave of your honours!
[Exit.
De Gard.
We are discover'd, there's no remedy.
Lillia Bianca's man, upon my life.
In stubbornness, because Lugier corrected him—
A shameless slave! plague on him for a rascal!
Oriana.
I was in perfect hope. The bane on't is now,
He will make mirth on mirth, to persecute us.
De Gard.
We must be patient; I am vex'd to th' proof too.
I'll try once more; then if I fall, here's one speaks.
[Puts his hand on his sword.
Oriana.
Let me be lost, and scorn'd first!
De Gard.
Well, we'll consider.
Away, and let me shift; I shall be hooted else.
[Exeunt.