_Mont._ I know not if himselfe will vaunt t'have beene The princely author of the slavish sinne, Or any other; he would have resolv'd me, Had you not come, not by his word, but writing, 200 Would I have sworne to give it him againe, And pawn'd mine honour to him for a paper.
_Tam._ See, how he flies me still! tis a foule heart That feares his owne hand. Good my lord, make haste To see the dangerous paper: papers hold 205 Oft-times the formes and copies of our soules, And (though the world despise them) are the prizes Of all our honors; make your honour then A hostage for it, and with it conferre My neerest woman here in all she knowes; 210 Who (if the sunne or Cerberus could have seene Any staine in me) might as well as they. And, Pero, here I charge thee, by my love, And all proofes of it (which I might call bounties); By all that thou hast seene seeme good in mee, 215 And all the ill which thou shouldst spit from thee; By pity of the wound this touch hath given me, Not as thy mistresse now, but a poore woman To death given over, rid me of my paines; Powre on thy powder; cleare thy breast of me. 220 My lord is only here: here speak thy worst; Thy best will doe me mischiefe; if thou spar'st me, Never shine good thought on thy memory! Resolve my lord, and leave me desperate.
_Per._ My lord!--my lord hath plaid a prodigals part, 225 To break his stock for nothing, and an insolent, To cut a Gordian when he could not loose it. What violence is this, to put true fire To a false train; to blow up long crown'd peace With sudden outrage; and beleeve a man, 230 Sworne to the shame of women, 'gainst a woman Borne to their honours? But I will to him.
_Tam._ No, I will write (for I shall never more Meet with the fugitive) where I will defie him, Were he ten times the brother of my King. 235 To him, my lord,--and ile to cursing him. _Exeunt._
26-29 _None . . . diadem_. A assigns these lines to Bussy.
70-78 _If he . . . and slit_. Omitted in A, which has instead:--
_Mons._ Not if I nam'd the man With whom I would make him suspicious His wife hath arm'd his forehead!
_Buss._ So you might Have your great nose made lesse indeede, and slit.
77-79 In B four lines, broken at (second) _how_, _have_, _out_, _thee peace_.