Gond. Count, thou art young, and unexperienc'd in the dark, hidden ways of Women: Thou dar'st affirm with confidence, a Lady of fifteen may be a Maid.
Count. Sir, if it were not so, I have a Sister would set near my heart.
Gond. Let her sit near her shame, it better fits her: call back the bloud that made our stream in nearness, and turn the Current to a better use; 'tis too much mudded, I do grieve to know it.
Duke. Dar'st thou make up again, dar'st thou turn face, knowing we know thee, hast thou not been discover'd openly? did not our ears hear her deny thy courtings? did we not see her blush with modest anger, to be so overtaken by a trick; can ye deny this Lord?
Gond. Had not your Grace, and her kind brother
Been within level of her eye,
You should have had a hotter volley from her,
More full of bloud and fire, ready to leap the window where she stood.
So truly sensual is her appetite.
Duke. Sir, Sir, these are but words and tricks, give me the proof.
Count. What need a better proof than your Lordship?
I am sure ye have lain with her my Lord.
Gond. I have confest it Sir.
Duke. I dare not give thee credit without witness.