Mon. I tearme thee so.
Euph. Why, how now, Lord Montano? You do forget your oath.
Mont. And you your selfe, Your Princely father, and the Dukedomes honour, To chaine your liking to a groome so base.
Con. He lies that calles me groome.
Enter Julia.
Ju. O God, forbeare: His Excellence your father's comming hither.
Mon. He comes in happie time, to know the cause Why such great Princes have bin made your scorne.
Euph. What, will you tell him?
Mon. Will I? let me die Contemn'd of heaven, in publique obloquie, If I reveale not this lascivious course.
Ju. We are undone.