Des. Of too much truth; and I blush for those few
Drops of blood I have left to expiate.
Duke. I am betrayed and lost!
Could'st be in love with that saint life, for one
Poor minute's smile, to betray it to ignominy and law?
I could trample on thy skull, until thy reeking
Brain sparkled about the dust. See how busily
They contract their dusky brows! Consult things
Safely, and let some reverend statute be ordained
In honour of all cowards. [Aside.] De Castro! for this good
Service know, 'twas I that laid thy father's head
Upon the block: complotted with the Portuguese
To make him guilty to the King: and envying that
He spread with so much shadow in the state, by a close
Faction rend'red him odious to the people: an engine,
I knew could not fail. I hurried thee to the Duchess's
Wanton bed, Dessandro, knowing De Flame's high
Blood would quit the debt I owed thee——
Des. He's proud all mischief can call him patron.
Duke. Nor had I shar'd the pleasure of a kiss to you
Or him, but that our purpose needs would have it so.
De F. Sir!
Duke. The language is plain and true.
De F. Then Claudilla was your court-mistress, Duke?—
'Twere profanation to say whore!
Duke. Young lord, I can forgive that language
In a suffering man.
De F. Forgive it!
Duke. Forgive it; and had De Flame himself
Enjoy'd her bed, and reap'd the scattered minutes
Of our love, he must have found another gloss more
Safe and honourable.