Lor. She ask'd me, why I would cast myself away thus,
When she in love devis'd this trick to save me.
San. There may be juggling, sir, in this: it may be
They have both hands i' th' deed, and one in love
Would suffer for't.
Enter a Lord.
Lord. The Dukes of Venice and Verona,
With some small train of gentlemen, are privately
This hour come to the court.
Mil. Bear them to prison,
Until we have given such entertainment sorrow
Will give us leave to show: until that time,
The satisfaction of my lost son's life
Must hover 'twixt a husband and a wife. [Exeunt. Manet Antonio.
Ant. How strangely chance to-day runs! the slave kill'd
In my apparel, and this fellow taken for't,
Whom to my knowledge I never saw. She loves him
Past all expression dearly. I have a trick,
In that so infinitely dear she loves him,
Has seal'd her mine already; and I'll put
This wondrous love of woman to such a nonplus,
Time hath produc'd none stranger. I will set
Honour and Love to fight for life and death.
Beauty (as castles built of cards) with a breath
Is levell'd and laid flat.
Enter Philippo, putting on a disguise, lays down a pistol.
Phil. Misery of ignorance!
It was the Prince Antonio I have slain.
Ant. Ha! the clue of all this error is unravell'd,
This is the valiant gentleman so threaten'd me:
He met the slave, doubtless, in my habit,
And seal'd upon him his mistaken spleen.
If it be so, there hangs some strange intent
In those accuse themselves for't.