Soto. Go too, I'll be thy friend, I'll speak a good word for thee,
And thou shalt have my Lordships countenance to her;
May be I have had a snap my self, may be I, may be no,
We Lords are allow'd a little more.
Sil. 'Tis fit, Sir;
I humbly thank ye, you are too too tender of me,
But what Sir, I beseech ye, was that paper,
Your Lordship was so studiously imployed in,
When ye came out a-doors?
Soto. Thou meanest this paper.
Soto. Why, 'tis a Proclamation,
A notable piece of villany, as ever thou heard'st in thy life,
By mine honor it is.
Sil. How Sir? or what concerns it?
Soto. It comes ye from the Dutchess, a plaguy wise woman,
To apprehend the body of one Silvio,
As arrant a Rascal as ever pist against a post,
And this same Silvio, or this foresaid rascal,
To bring before her, live or dead; for which good service
The man that brings him, has two thousand Duckets;
Is not this notable matter now?
Sil. 'Tis so indeed,
This Proclamation bears my bane about it;
Can no rest find me? no private place secure me?
But still my miseries like blood-hounds haunt me?
Unfortunate young man, which way now guides thee,
Guides thee from death? the Countrey's laid round for thee;
Oh Claudio, now I feel thy blood upon me,
Now it speaks loudly here, I am sure against me,
Time now has found it out, and truth proclaim'd it,
And Justice now cries out, I must die for it.
Soto. Hast thou read it?
Sil. Yes.