Lucio. She that you love.
Duke. I do suspect.
Lucio. So doe I.
Duke. This fellow to be but a counterfeit,
One that doth seem to loath all woman-kind,
To hate himself, because he hath some part
Of woman in him; seems not to endure
To see, or to be seen of any woman,
Only, because he knows it is their nature
To wish to tast that which is most forbidden:
And with this shew he may the better compass
(And with far less suspition) his base ends.
Lucio. Upon my life 'tis so.
Duke. And I doe know,
Before his slain wife gave him that offence,
He was the greatest servant to that Sex
That ever was: what doth this Lady here
With him alone? why should he rail at her to me?
Lucio. Because your grace might not suspect.
Duke. 'Twas so: I doe love her strangely:
I would fain know the truth: counsell me. [They three whisper.
Enter Count, Lazarello, and his boy.
Count. It falls out better than we could expect Sir, that we should find the Duke and my Lord Gondarino together; both which you desire to be acquainted with.