Fred. Behold the cause.
Duke. Valentia prisoner?
Fred. The firebrand of this tumultuous warre, The originall from whence your subjects bloud Flowes in abundance on[203] this spatious playn.
Valen. And what of all this?
Fred. That thy lifes too meane To satisfie the unworthiest of the Campe For the effusion of a loyall drop.
Duke. Meanes Fredericke then, to kill his fathers heart In faire Valentia's death?
Fred. Not touch your hand, Other then humble as becomes a sonne; But she shall suffer for enchanting you.
Valen. I am a Dutchesse, set my ransome downe.
Fred. A Dutchesse! whence proceeds that borowed name?
Of what continuance? scarcely hath the Sunne
Beheld thy pride a day, but doth decline
Shaming to view a crowned Concubine.
Duke. In mine owne honour, Fredericke, I command Thou set a ransome on Valentia.