Dor. No, no, sir; she came to me with ne'er a crack about her.
Lod. These will be brave sins to mix with her virtues! Why, they will make no more show than three or four bailiffs amongst a company of honest men. [Aside.] These sins, my dove-like daughter, are out of contradiction venial, trivial, and light. Have you none of greater growth?
Dor. O yes, sir, one!
Lod. One! What should that be, I wonder?
Dor. One yet remains behind
Of weight and consequence. The same order
Heralds prescribe in shows, I now observe
In placing of my sins; as there inferiors
Fare 'fore the persons of great note,[145] so last,
Because the last lives freshest in our memories,[146]
My great sin comes to obliterate those pass'd.
Lod. Sh' has trod some chicken to death, I warrant her. [Aside.
Dor. Hear me, and let a blush make you look red.
Unseemly I have abus'd my husband's bed.
Lod. You did ill to drink too hard ere you went to bed.
Dor. Alas, sir! you mistake me: I have lain
With another man besides my husband.
Lod. How?