Duke. Those that are once false, shall we ne're trust?
Fred. Wise men approve their actions by the tryall.
Duke. I say she is mine in spight of all deniall; Bring me the Crowne.
Fred. To set upon her head? Friends, draw your swords, first strike the strumpet dead.
Duke. My guard, my guard!
Alfred. For shame, put up your swords.
Fred. For shame, great Rulers, leave your flattering words.
Albert. 'Tis madnesse in the King and worse in you.
Hat. Though you prove traytors, we'll not prove untrue.
Fred. Will you dismisse this Strumpet to the stewes, Or our allegance in this act refuse?