Gon. Did he so? Give’t me. I’ll give’t him. I’ll regive his token with so sharp advantage.
Dul. Nay, my worthy father, read but these cunning letters.
Gon. Letters—where?
[Reads.
Prove you but justly loving, and conceive me,
Till justice leave the gods, I’ll never leave thee.
For tho’ the duke seem wise, he’ll find this strain,
Where two hearts yield consent, all thwarting’s vain.
And darest thou then aver this wicked writ?
O world of wenching wiles, where is thy wit? 380
Enter Tiberio.
Dul. But other talk for us were far more fit, For, see, here comes the Prince Tiberio.
Gon. Daughter, upon thy obedience, instantly take thy chamber.
Dul. Dear father, in all duty, let me beseech your leave, that I may but——