Lord Av. That's soly to my selfe And in my fyxt thoughts stands irreproovable.
Enter Dennis with pen, inke, and paper.
Syr, heares pen inke and paper.
Lord Av. To his letter My self will give him answer. (writes)
Denis. Suer all's not well that on the suddane thus My lord is so distempered.
Lady. I have, I feare,
Styr'd such a heate, that nought save blood will quensh:
But wish my teares might doo't; hee's full of storme,
And that in him will not bee easily calmd.
His rage and troble both pronounce him guiltles
Of this attempt, which makes mee rather doubt
Hee may proove too seveare in his revendge,
Which I with all indevour will prevent
Yet to the most censorious I appeale,
What coold I lesse have doone to save myne honor
From suffringe beneathe skandall?
Lord Av. See, heare's all:
'Tis short and sweete, wryte this in your own hand
Without exchange of the least sillable.
Insert in copiinge no suspitious dash,
No doubtfull comma; then subscribe your name,
Seal't then with your own signet and dispatche it
As I will have dyrected; doo't, I charge you,
Without the least demurre or fallacy.
By dooinge this you shall prevent distrust
Or future breach beetwixt us; you shall further
Expresse a just obediens.
Lady. Syr, I shall, What ere your concealed purpose bee, I shall.
Lord Av. Provyde mee horses, I will ryde.
Denis. When, syr?