.
My daughters honour is of that high prize
That I preferre it 'fore a traitors braine.
Let it suffice, we know she hath deni'd thee
And some denied (like devills) turne their love
Into excrutiation of themselves
And of the parties whom they have belov'd.
Revenge begins where flatteries doe end;
Being not her husband, thou wilt be no friend.
Thus is thy policy by heaven prevented:
Therefore henceforth we banish thee our Court;
Our Court? our territorie, every place
Wherein we beare the state of Royaltie.
Urge no replie, the fact is plainely prov'd,
And thou art hatefull where thou wert belov'd.

_Mon_. My gracious Lord--

_Duke_. We can afford no grace:
Stay here, and reade thy ruine in my face.

_Mon_. I goe contented with this heavy doome;
'Twas mine owne seeking. Faire and wise, adiew;
Deceit hath kil'd conceit, you know tis true.
[_Exit_.[168]

_Fre_. An upright sentence of an act so vilde.

_Duk_. Remove this waiting virgin from your chamber,
But let this gentleman attend on me.
The best may be deceiv'd by trecherie.

_Euph_. Then so, my gracious father, may this maid.

_Duke_. Then let her keep her place; beware of gold,
Honour's too precious to be baselie sold.--
Now to our dying friend, his grace of _Meath_.
Daughter, prepare you; you shall ride along,
For to that end we came; come, sonne, to horse:
Ere we come there, our friend may prove a coarse.

_Euph_.--Twas well done both, this action rarely fell;
Where women trie their wits, bad plots prove well.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

[SCENE 2.]

_Enter three Beggers_.

1. Come away, fellow louse, thou art ever eating.

2. Have I not neede, that must feede so many
_Cannibals_ as will waite on me whether I will or no?

3. Heres one in my necke, I would 'twere on thy shoulder.

1. Keepe it your selfe, I have retainers enow of mine owne.

2. But whether are you going now?

1. Why, are you our King, and doe not know that?

2. Your King? I am a very roguish King and I hav a companie of lowsie
subjects.

_Enter Hatto and Alfrid conferring_.

2. But looke about my ragged subjects, here comes somebody.

1. O the devills; shall we aske them an almes?

2. Why not? now the rats have eaten up their brother Bishop they will
be more charitable; your vocation, you slaves.

3. For the Lord sake, be pittifull to a companie of poore men.

_Hatto_. What cry is this? be