At yours, or any man's entreaty, sir.


Eng. Ambass. She hath a brave spirit.


Mont. Well, well, such counterfeit jewels
Make true ones oft suspected.


Vit. You are deceiv'd:
For know, that all your strict-combined heads,
Which strike against this mine of diamonds,
Shall prove but glassen hammers: they shall break.
These are but feigned shadows of my evils.
Terrify babes, my lord, with painted devils,
I am past such needless palsy. For your names
Of 'whore' and 'murderess', they proceed from you,
As if a man should spit against the wind,
The filth returns in 's face.


Mont. Pray you, mistress, satisfy me one question:
Who lodg'd beneath your roof that fatal night
Your husband broke his neck?


Brach. That question
Enforceth me break silence: I was there.