Gab. Look up, and see.
Duke. What may this mean?
Gab. Behold it;
Behold the drunken murderer
Of that young Gentleman; behold the rankest,
The vilest, basest slave that ever flourish'd.
Duke. Who kill'd him?
Gab. I; and there 's the cause I did it:
Read, if your eyes will give you leave.
Hell. Oh! monstrous.
Gab. Nay, out it shall: there, take this false heart to ye;
The base dishonor of a thousand women:
Keep it in gold, Duke, 'tis a precious jewel.
Now to my self; for I have liv'd a fair age,
Longer by some moneths then I had a mind to.
Duke. Hold.
Gab. Here, young Perolot; my first contracted
True love shall never go alone.
Duke. Hold, Gabriella.
I do forgive all.