Mon. Lacivious love is ever full of sleights.
Euph. Villaines, that seeke by treason their desires, Want no suggestion to beguile a trueth.
Mon. I say, I found this peasant in her closet Kissing, imbracing, and dishonouring her.
Euph. I say, an't please your gracious Excellence,
I found this Gentleman within my closet,
There set by subornation of this Lord,
And here appointed to dishonor me.
Speake, is't not true?
Con. True, if it please your grace.
Duke. What say you, strumpet?
Ju. Since my Ladie saies so, I say and't please your Excellence—
Duke. Speake, woman.
Ju. 'Tis very true.
Mon. O monstrous forgerie!