Med. Where's the wrongd Lady?
Alq. Stand you still at the Barre. You are now another man, sir; your scale turnes.
Fernando fetches in Eleonora.
Mac. Looke on the prisoner: doe you know him, Lady?
Ele. Would I had nere had cause to say I know him.
Mac. Of what doe you accuse him?
Ele. As the murtherer
Both of my name and honour. In the hurry,
When the Citty (they said) was ready to be taken,
I being betrothed to this young gentleman,
My father brought me to his father's house,
Telling me their dwelt safety.—There dwelt villany,
Treason, lust, basenes! for this godlesse man
(The storme being ore) came in & forcd from me
The Jewell of my virgin honour.
Hen. False!
Fer. I would not have thee thinke (thou graceles wretch)
She, being contracted to thee, loving thee,
Loving thee far more dearly then her selfe,
Would wound her vertue soe, so blott her fame
And bring a scandall on my house & me,
Were not the fact most true.
Hen. Most false by all that ever man can sweare by. We falling out, I told her once I nere Would marry her; & soe she workes this mischiefe.