Duke. Lady, I give't to you, he is your own.
Gond. I do beseech your Grace, let me be banisht with all the speed that may be.
Count. Stay still, you shall attend her sentence.
Orian. Lord Gondarino, you have wrong'd me highly; yet since it sprung from no peculiar hate to me, but from a general dislike unto all women, you shall thus suffer for it; Arrigo, call in some Ladies to assist us; will your Grace [t]ake your State?
Gond. My Lord, I do beseech your Grace for any punishment saving this woman, let me be sent upon discovery of some Island; I do desire but a small Gondela, with ten Holland Cheeses, and I'll undertake it.
Oria. Sir, ye must be content, will ye sit down? nay, do it willingly: Arrigo, tie his Arms close to the chair, I dare not trust his patience.
[G]ond. Mayst thou be quickly old and painted; mayst thou dote upon some sturdy Yeoman of the Wood-yard, and he be honest; mayst thou be barr'd the lawful lechery of thy Coach, for want of instruments; and last, be thy womb unopen'd.
Duke. This fellow hath a pretty gaul.
Count. My Lord, I hope to see him purg'd e'r he part.