Men. Ignoble villain! did I for this bestride
Thy wounded limbs? for[444] this, rank opposite
Even to my sovereign? for this, O God, for this, 110
Sunk all my hopes, and with my hopes my life?
Ripp’d bare my throat unto the hangman’s axe?—
Thou most dishonoured trunk!—Emilia!
By life, I know her not—Emilia!—
Did you believe him?
Aur. Pardon me, I did.
Men. Did you? and thereupon you gracèd him?
Aur. I did.
Men. Took him to favour, nay, even clasp’d with him?
Aur. Alas, I did!
Men. This night? 120
Aur. This night.
Men. And in your lustful twines the duke took you?