Dub. Duboyes.
Orl. Give me thy hand, [thou] hast received no hurt?
Dub. Not any, nor were this body stuck full of wounds, I should not count them hurts, being taken in so honorable a cause as the defence of my most worthy Lord.
Orl. The dedication of thy love to me requires my ample bounty, thou art mine, for I do find thee made unto my purposes: Mounsieur Laverdine, pardon my neglect I not observed you, and how runs rumour?
Lav. Why, it runs my Lord like a foot-man without a cloak, to show that what's once rumour'd it cannot be hid.
Or[l]. And what say the rable, am not I the subject of their talk?
Lav. Troth my Lord the common mouth speaks foul words.
Orl. Of me, for turning away my wife, do they not?
Lav. Faith the men do a little murmure at it and say, 'tis an ill president in so great a man, marry the women they rayl out right.