1st Noble. How comes the quiet of your grace disturb'd?
Duke. This boy, that should be myself after me,
Would be myself before me; and in heat
Of that ambition bloodily rush'd in,
Intending to depose me in my bed.
2d Noble. Duty and natural loyalty forfend!
Duch. He call'd his father villain, and me strumpet,
A word that I abhor to file[61] my lips with.
Amb. That was not so well-done, brother.
Lus. I am abus'd—I know there's no excuse can do me good. [Aside.
Ven. 'Tis now good policy to be from sight;
His vicious purpose to our sister's honour
I cross'd beyond our thought. [Aside.
Hip. You little dreamt his father slept here.
Ven. O, 'twas far beyond me:
But since it fell so—without frightful words,
Would he had kill'd him, 'twould have eas'd our swords.
Duke. Be comforted, our duchess, he shall die.