Mon. Her self.
Euph. This traitor.
Fre. Lord Montano?
Euph. Hee.
Fred. Villaine, thou dyest.
Mon. Stay, she meanes Constantine,
He that I found infolded in her closet,
Reaping the honour which a thousand Lords
Have fail'd in seeking in a lawful course.
Con. He does me wrong, my gracious soveraigne.
Ju. He wrongs my Ladie, an't please your grace.
Mon. Ile tell the trueth.
Euph. Or rather let me tell it.