Ver. And what from hence infer you?
Lor. That 'twas base,
Base in the depth of baseness, for this wife
So honour'd and this smooth friend so belov'd
To conspire betwixt them my dishonour.
Ver. How?
Lor. To stain my sheets with lust, a minute's theft;
To brand perpetually three faces: a husband's,
A wife's, and friend's.
Abs. O good my lord,
Cast out this devil from you.
Lor. O good my lady,
Keep not the devil within you, but confess.
Phil. Hear me, great sir; I will confess, Lorenzo,
And print thee down the fool of passion.
Spin. Speak, sir.
Phil. 'Tis true, this boasting man did thus erect me
In his opinion, plac'd me in his love,
Grac'd me with courtesies: O the craft of jealousy!
As boys, to take the bird, about the pit
Cast wheat and chaff, contriving a neat train
To entice her to her ruin—so this friend,
Falser than city-oaths, it is not doubted,
Having so far endear'd me, when he came
To enjoy a fair wife, guess'd it impossible
For me to share with him in all things else,
And not in her; for fair wives oft, we see,
Strike the discord in sweet friendship's harmony:
And having no way to ensnare me so,
To separate our loves, he seriously
Woo'd me to try his wife.
Lor. 'Tis false.