All. The duke?
Flu. The very duke.
Hip. Then all our plots
Are turned upon our heads; and we’re blown up
With our own underminings. ’Sfoot, how comes he?
What villain durst betray our being here?
Flu. Castruchio! Castruchio told the duke, and Matheo here told Castruchio.
Hip. Would you betray me to Castruchio?
Mat. ’Sfoot, he damned himself to the pit of hell, if he spake on’t again.
Hip. So did you swear to me: so were you damned.
Mat. Pox on ’em, and there be no faith in men, if a man shall not believe oaths: he took bread and salt,[211] by this light, that he would never open his lips.
Hip. O God, O God!
Ans. Son, be not desperate,
Have patience, you shall trip your enemy
Down by his own slights.[212] How far is the duke hence?