SCENE V.

_Enter Ancient, crying Brooms, and after him severally, four Souldiers, crying other things._ Boroskie _and Gent, over the Stage observing them_.

I. SONG.

Anc. _Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom, Come buy my Birchen Broom, I'th' Wars we have no more room, Buy all my bonnie Broom, For a kiss take two; If those will not do, For a little, little pleasure, Take all my whole treasure: If all these will not do't, Take the Broom-man to boot. Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom._

II. SONG.

1 Soul. _The Wars are done and gone, And Souldiers now neglected, Pedlers are, Come Maidens, come alone, For I can show you handsome, handsome ware; Powders for, for the head, And drinks for your bed, To make ye blith and bonney. As well in the night we Souldiers can fight, And please a young wench as any._

2 Soul. _I have fine Potato's, Ripe Potato's._

III. SONG.

3 Soul. _Will ye buy any Honesty, come away, I sell it openly by day, I bring no forced light, nor no Candle To cozen ye; come buy and handle: This will shew the great man good, The Tradesman where he swears and lyes, Each Lady of a noble bloud, The City dame to rule her eyes: Ye are rich men now: come buy, and then I'le make ye richer, honest men._

IV. SONG.

4 Sol. _Have ye any crackt maiden-heads, to new leach or mend? Have ye any old maiden-heads to sell or to change? Bring 'em to me with a little pretty gin, I'le clout 'em, I'le mend 'em, I'le knock in a pin, Shall make 'em as good maids agen, As ever they have been._

_Bor._ What means all this, why do y'sell Brooms _Ancient_? Is it in wantonness, or want?

_An._ The only reason is, To sweep your Lordships conscience: here's one for the nonce. Gape Sir, you have swallowed many a goodlier matter-- The only casting for a crazie conscience.

_3 Sol._ Will your Lordship buy any honestie? 'twill be worth your mony.

_B[o]r._ How is this?

_3 Sol._ Honestie my Lord, 'tis here in a quill.

_An._ Take heed you open it not, for 'tis so subtle, The least puffe of wind will blow it out o'th' Kingdom.

_2 Sol._ Will your Lordship please to taste a fine Potato? 'Twill advance your wither'd state.

_Anc._ Fill your honour full of most noble itches, And make Jack dance in your Lordships breeches.

1 Sol. _If your Daughters on their beds. Have bow'd, or crackt their maiden-heads; If in a Coach with two much tumbling, They chance to crie, fie, fo, what fumbling; If her foot slip, and down fall she, And break her leg 'bove the knee, The one and thirtieth of Februarie let this be ta'ne, And they shall be arrant maids again._

_Bor._ Ye are brave Souldiers; keep your wantonness, A winter will come on to shake this wilfulness. Disport your selves, and when you want your mony-- [_Exit._

_Anc._ Broom, Broom, &c. [_Exeunt Singing._

SCENA VI.

_Enter_ Alinda, Honora, Viola.

_Al._ You must not be so fearfull, little one, Nor Lady you so sad, you will ne're make Courtiers With these dull sullen thoughts; this place is pleasure, Preserv'd to that use, so inhabited; And those that live here, live delightfull, joyfull: These are the Gardens of _Adonis_, Ladies, Where all sweets to their free and noble uses, Grow ever young and courted.

_Hon._ Bless me Heaven, Can things of her years arrive at these rudiments? By your leave fair Gentlewoman, how long have you been here?

_Al._ Faith much about a week.

_Hon._ You have studied hard, And by my faith arriv'd at a great knowledge.

_Viol._ Were not you bashfull at first?

_Al._ I, I, for an hour or two: But when I saw people laugh'd at me for it, And thought it a dull breeding--

_Hon._ You are govern'd here then Much after the mens opinions.

_Al._ Ever Lady.

_Hon._ And what they think is honourable.--

_Al._ Most precisely We follow with all faith.

_Hon._ A goodly Catechisme.

_Viol._ But bashfull for an hour or two?

_Al._ Faith to say true, I do not think I was so long: for look ye, 'Tis to no end here, put on what shape ye will, And soure your self with ne're so much austeritie, You shall be courted in the same, and won too, 'Tis but some two hours more; and so much time lost, Which we hold pretious here: In so much time now As I have told you this, you may lose a Servant, Your age, nor all your Art can e're recover. Catch me occasion as she comes, hold fast there, Till what you do affect is ripn'd to ye. Has the Duke seen ye yet?

_Hon._ What if he have not?

_Al._ You do your beauties too much wrong, appearing So full of sweetness, newness; set so richly, As if a Counsel beyond nature fram'd ye.

_Hon._ If we were thus, say heaven had given these blessings, Must we turn these to sin-oblations?

_Al._ How foolishly this Countrey way shews in ye? How full of flegm? do you come here to pray, Ladies? You had best cry, stand away, let me alone Gentlemen, I'le tell my Father else.

_Viol._ This woman's naught sure, A very naughtie woman.

_Hon._ Come, say on friend, I'le be instructed by ye.

_Al._ You'l thank me for't.

_Hon._ Either I or the devil shall: The Duke you were speaking of.

_Al._ 'Tis well remembred: yes, let him first see you, Appear not openly till he has view'd ye.

_Hon._ He's a very noble Prince they say.

_Al._ O wondrous gracious; And as you may deliver your self at the first viewing. For look ye, you must bear your self; yet take heed It be so season'd with a sweet humilitie, And grac'd with such a bountie in your beautie--

_Hon._ But I hope he will offer me no ill?

_Al._ No, no: 'Tis like he will kiss ye, and play with ye.

_Hon._ Play with me, how?

_Al._ Why, good Lord, that you are such a fool now! No harm assure your self.

_Viol._ Will he play with me too?

_Al._ Look babies in your eyes, my prettie sweet one: There's a fine sport: do you know your lodgings yet?

_Hon._ I hear of none.

_Al._ I do then, they are handsom, Convenient for access.

_Viol._ Access?

_Al._ Yes little one, For visitation of those friends and Servants, Your beauties shall make choice of: friends and visits: Do not you know those uses? Alas poor novice; There's a close Cowch or two, handsomely placed too.

_Viol._ What are those I pray you?

_Al._ Who would be troubled with such raw things? they are to lie upon, And your love by ye; and discourse, and toy in.

_Viol._ Alas I have no love.

_Al._ You must by any means: You'l have a hundred, fear not.

_Viol._ Honestie keep me: What shall I doe with all those?

_Al._ You'l find uses: Ye are ignorant yet, let time work; you must learn too, To lie handsomly in your bed a mornings, neatly drest In a most curious Wastcoat, to set ye off well, Play with your Bracelets, sing: you must learn to rhime too, And riddle neatly; studie the hardest language, And 'tis no matter whether it be sense, or no, So it go seemlie off. Be sure ye profit In kissing, kissing sweetly: there lies a main point, A key that opens to all practick pleasure; I'le help ye to a friend of mine shall teach ye, And suddenlie: your Country way is fulsome.

_Hon._ Have ye schools for all these mysteries?

_Al._ O yes, And several hours prefix'd to studie in: Ye may have Kalenders to know the good hour, And when to take a jewel: for the ill too, When to refuse, with observations on 'em; Under what Sign 'tis best meeting in an Arbor, And in what Bower, and hour it works; a thousand, When in a Coach, when in a private lodging, With all their vertues.

_Hon._ Have ye studied these? How beastly they become your youth? how bawdily? A woman of your tenderness, a teacher, Teacher of these lewd Arts? of your full beauty? A man made up in lust would loath this in ye: The rankest Leacher, hate such impudence. They say the Devil can assume heavens brightness, And so appear to tempt us: sure thou art no woman.

_Al._ I joy to find ye thus.

_Hon._ Thou hast no tenderness, No reluctation in thy heart: 'tis mischief.

_Al._ All's one for that; read these and then be satisfi'd, A few more private rules I have gather'd for ye, Read 'em, and well observe 'em: so I leave ye. [_Exit._

_Viol._ A wond[ro]us wicked woman: shame go with thee.

_Hon._ What new _Pandoras_ box is this? I'le see it, Though presently I tear it. Read Thine _Viola_, 'Tis in our own wills to believe and follow.

_Worthy_ Honora, _as you have begun In vertues spotless school, so forward run: Pursue that nobleness, and chaste desire You ever had, burn in that holy fire; And a white Martyr to fair memorie Give up your name, unsoil'd of infamy._

How's this? Read yours out Sister: this amazes me.

Vio. _Fear not thou yet unblasted Violet, Nor let my wanton words a doubt beget, Live in that peace and sweetness of thy bud, Remember whose thou art, and grow still good. Remember what thou art, and stand a storie Fit for thy noble Sex, and thine own glorie._

_Hon._ I know not what to think.

_Viol._ Sure a good woman, An excellent woman, Sister.

_Hon._ It confounds me; Let 'em use all their arts, if these be their ends, The Court I say breeds the best foes and friends. Come, let's be honest wench, and doe our best service.

_Viol._ A most excellent woman, I will love her. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Olympia _with a Casket, and_ Alinda.

_Al._ Madam, the Duke has sent for the two Ladies.

_Olym._ I prethee go: I know thy thoughts are with him. Go, go _Alinda_, do not mock me more. I have found thy heart wench, do not wrong thy Mistris, Thy too much loving Mistris: do not abuse her.

_Al._ By your own fair hands I understand ye not.

_Olym._ By thy own fair eyes I understand thee too much, Too far, and built a faith there thou hast ruin'd. Goe, and enjoy thy wish, thy youth, thy pleasure, Enjoy the greatness no doubt he has promised, Enjoy the service of all eyes that see thee, The glory thou hast aim'd at, and the triumph: Only this last love I ask, forget thy Mistris.

_Al._ Oh, who has wrong'd me? who has ruin'd me? Poor wretched Girle, what poyson is flung on thee? Excellent vertue, from whence flows this anger?

_Ol._ Go, ask my Brother, ask the faith thou gav'st me, Ask all my favours to thee, ask my love, Last, thy forgetfulness of good: then flye me, For we must part _Alinda_.

_Al._ You are weary of me; I must confess, I was never worth your service, Your bounteous favours less; but that my duty, My ready will, and all I had to serve ye-- O Heaven thou know'st my honestie.

_Olym._ No more: Take heed, heaven has a justice: take this ring with ye, This doting spell you gave me: too well _Alinda_, Thou knew'st the vertue in't; too well I feel it: Nay keep that too, it may sometimes remember ye, When you are willing to forget who gave it, And to what vertuous end.

_Al._ Must I goe from ye? Of all the sorrows sorrow has--must I part with ye? Part with my noble Mistris?

_Olym._ Or I with thee wench.

_Al._ And part stain'd with opinion? Farewel Lady, Happy and blessed Lady, goodness keep ye: Thus your poor Servant full of grief turns from ye, For ever full of grief, for ever from ye. I have no being now, no friends, no Country, I wander heaven knows whither, heaven knows how. No life, now you are lost: only mine innocence, That little left me of my self, goes with me, That's all my bread and comfort. I confess Madam, Truely confess, the Duke has often courted me.

_Olym._ And pour'd his Soul into thee, won thee.

_Al._ Do you think so? Well, time that told this tale, will tell my truth too, And say ye had a faithfull, honest Servant: The business of my life is now to pray for ye, Pray for your vertuous loves; Pray for your children, When Heaven shall make ye happy.

_Olym._ How she wounds me! Either I am undone, or she must go: take these with ye, Some toyes may doe ye service; and this mony; And when ye want, I love ye not so poorly, Not yet _Alinda_, that I would see ye perish. Prethee be good, and let me hear: look on me, I love those eyes yet dearly; I have kiss'd thee, And now I'le doe't again: Farewel _Alinda_, I am too full to speak more, and too wretched. [_Exit._

_Al._ You have my faith, And all the world my fortune. [_Exit._

SCENA II.

_Enter_ Theodor.

_The._ I would fain hear What becomes of these two Wenches: And if I can, I will doe 'em good.

_Enter Gentleman, passing over the Stage._

Do you hear my honest friend? He knows no such name: What a world of business, Which by interpretation are meer nothings, These things have here! 'Mass now I think on't better, I wish he be not sent for one of them To some of these by-lodgings: me thought I saw A kind of reference in his face to Bawderie.

_Enter Gentleman, with a Gentlewoman, passing over the Stage._

He has her, but 'tis none of them: hold fast thief: An excellent touzing knave. Mistris You are to suffer your penance some half hour hence now. How far a fine Court Custard with Plums in it Will prevail with one of these waiting Gentlewomen, They are taken with these soluble things exceedingly; This is some yeoman o'th' bottles now that has sent for her, That she calls Father: now woe to this Ale incense. By your leave Sir.

_Enter a_ Servant.

_Ser._ Well Sir; what's your pleasure with me?

_The._ You do not know the way to the maids lodgings?

_Ser._ Yes indeed do I Sir.

_The._ But you will not tell me?

_Ser._ No indeed will not I, because you doubt it. [_Exit._

_Enter_ 2 Servant.

_The._ These are fine gim-cracks: hey, here comes another, A Flagon full of wine in's hand, I take it. Well met my friend, is that wine?

_2 Ser._ Yes indeed is it.

_The._ Faith I'le drink on't then.

_2 Ser._ Ye may, because ye have sworn Sir.

_The._ 'Tis very good, I'le drink a great deal now Sir.

_2 Ser._ I cannot help it Sir.

_The._ I'le drink more yet.

_2 Ser._ 'Tis in your own hands.

_The._ There's your pot, I thank ye. Pray let me drink again.

_2 Ser._ Faith but ye shall not. Now have I sworn I take it. Fare ye well Sir. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Lady.

_The._ This is the fin'st place to live in I e're enter'd. Here comes a Gentlewoman, and alone; I'le to her. Madam, my Lord my Master.

_Lady._ Who's your Lord Sir?

_The._ The Lord _Boroskey_, Lady.

_Lady._ Pray excuse me: Here's something for your pains: within this hour Sir, One of the choice young Ladies shall attend him: Pray let it be in that Chamber juts out to the water; 'Tis private and convenient: doe my humble service To my honourable good Lord, I beseech ye Sir; If it please you to visit a poor Lady-- You carrie the 'haviour of a noble Gentleman.

_The._ I shall be bold.

_Lady._ 'Tis a good aptness in ye. I lye here in the Wood-yard, the blue lodgings Sir; They call me merrily the Lady of the ---- Sir; A little I know what belongs to a Gentleman, And if it please you take the pains. [_Exit._

_The._ Dear Lady, take the pains? Why a horse would not take the pains that thou requir'st now, To cleave old crab-tree: one of the choice young Ladies? I would I had let this Bawd goe, she has frighted me; I am cruelly afraid of one of my Tribe now; But if they will doe, the Devil cannot stop 'em. Why should he have a young Lady? are women now O'th' nature of Bottles, to be stopt with Corks? O the thousand little furies that flye here now! How now Captain?

_Enter_ Putsky.

_Puts._ I come to seek you out Sir, And all the Town I have travell'd.

_The._ What's the news man?

_Puts._ That that concerns us all, and very nearly: The Duke this night holds a great feast at Court, To which he bids for guests all his old Counsellors, And all his favourites: your Father's sent for.

_The._ Why he is neither in council, nor in favour.

_Pu._ That's it: have an eye now, or never, and a quick one, An eye that must not wink from good intelligence. I heard a Bird sing, they mean him no good office.

_Enter_ Ancient.

_The._ Art sure he sups here?

_Puts._ Sure as 'tis day.

_The._ 'Tis like then: How now, where hast thou been _Ancient_?

_Anc._ Measuring the City: I have left my Brooms at gate here; By this time the Porter has stole 'em to sweep out Rascals.

_Theod._ Bro[o]ms?

_Anc._ I have been crying Brooms all the town over, And such a Mart I have made, there's no tread near it. O the young handsom wenches, how they twitter'd, When they but saw me shake my ware, and sing too; Come hither Master Broom-man I beseech ye: Good Master Broom-man hither, cries another.

_The._ Thou art a mad fellow.

_Anc._ They are all as mad as I: they all have tra[de]s now, And roar about the streets like Bull-beggers.

_The._ What company of Souldiers are they?

_Anc._ By this means I have gather'd Above a thousand tall and hardy Souldiers, If need be Colonel.

_The._ That need's come _Ancient_, And 'twas discreetly done: goe, draw 'em presently, But without suspicion: this night we shall need 'em; Let 'em be near the Court, let _Putskie_ guide 'em; And wait me for occasion: here I'le stay still.

_Puts._ If it fall out we are ready; if not we are scatter'd: I'le wait ye at an inch.

_The._ Doe, Farewel. [_Exeunt._

SCENA III.

_Enter Duke_, Borosky.

_Duke._ Are the Souldiers still so mutinous?

_Bor._ More than ever, No Law nor Justice frights 'em: all the Town over They play new pranks and gambols: no mans person, Of what degree soever, free from abuses: And durst they doe this, (let your grace consider) These monstrous, most offensive things, these villanies, If not set on, and fed? if not by one They honour more than you? and more aw'd by him?

_Duke._ Happily their own wants.

_Boros._ I offer to supply 'em, And every hour make tender of their moneys: They scorn it, laugh at me that offer it: I fear the next device will be my life Sir; And willingly I'le give it, so they stay there.

_Duke._ Do you think Lord _Archas_ privie?

_Bor._ More than thought, I know it Sir, I know they durst not doe These violent rude things, abuse the State thus, But that they have a hope by his ambitions--

_Duke._ No more: he's sent for?

_Boros._ Yes, and will be here sure.

_Duke._ Let me talk further with you anon.

_Boros._ I'le wait Sir.

_Duke._ Did you speak to the Ladies?

_Boros._ They'l attend your grace presently.

_Duke._ How do you like 'em?

_Boros._ My eyes are too dull Judges. They wait here Sir. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Honora, _and_ Viola.

_Duke._ Be you gone then: Come in Ladies, Welcom to th' court sweet beauties; now the court shines, When such true beams of beauty strike amongst us: Welcom, welcom, even as your own joyes welcom. How do you like the Court? how seems it to you? Is't not a place created for all sweetness? Why were you made such strangers to this happiness? Barr'd the delights this holds? the richest jewels Set ne're so well, if then not worn to wonder, By judging eyes not set off, lose their lustre: Your Country shades are faint; blasters of beauty; The manners like the place, obscure and heavie; The Rose buds of the beauties turn to cankers, Eaten with inward thoughts: whilst there ye wander. Here Ladies, here, you were not made for Cloisters, Here is the Sphere you move in: here shine nobly, And by your powerfull influence command all: What a sweet modestie dwells round about 'em, And like a nipping morn pulls in their blossoms?

_Hon._ Your grace speaks cunningly, you doe not this, I hope Sir, to betray us; we are poor triumphs; Nor can our loss of honour adde to you Sir: Great men, and great thoughts, seek things great and worthy, Subjects to make 'em live, and not to lose 'em; Conquests so nobly won, can never perish; We are two simple maids, untutor'd here Sir; Two honest maids, is that a sin at Court Sir? Our breeding is obedience, but to good things, To vertuous and to fair: what wou'd you win on us? Why do I ask that question, when I have found ye? Your Preamble has pour'd your heart out to us; You would dishonour us; which in your translation Here at the Court reads thus, your grace would love us, Most dearly love us: stick us up for mistresses: Most certain, there are thousands of our sex Sir That would be glad of this, and handsom women, And crowd into this favour, fair young women, Excellent beauties Sir: when ye have enjoy'd 'em, And suckt those sweets they have, what Saints are these then? What worship have they won? what name you ghess Sir, What storie added to their time, a sweet one?

_Duke._ A brave spirited wench.

_Hon._ I'le tell your grace, And tell ye true: ye are deceiv'd in us two, Extreamly cozen'd Sir: And yet in my eye You are the handsomst man I ever lookt on, The goodliest Gentleman; take that hope with ye; And were I fit to be your wife (so much I honour ye) Trust me I would scratch for ye but I would have ye. I would wooe you then.

_Duke._ She amazes me: But how am I deceiv'd?

_Hon._ O we are too honest, Believe it Sir, too honest, far too honest, The way that you propound too ignorant, And there is no medling with us; for we are fools too, Obstinate, peevish fools: if I would be ill, And had a wantons itch, to kick my heels up, I would not leap into th' Sun, and doe't there, That all the world might see me: an obscure shade Sir, Dark as the deed, there is no trusting light with it, Nor that that's lighter far, vain-glorious greatness.

_Duke._ You will love me as your friend?

_Ho[n]._ I will honour ye, As your poor humble handmaid serve, and pray for ye.

_Du._ What sayes my little one; you are not so obstinate? Lord how she blushes: here are truly fair souls: Come you will be my love?

_Viol._ Good Sir be good to me, Indeed I'le doe the best I can to please ye; I do beseech your grace: Alas I fear ye.

_Duke._ What shouldst thou fear?

_Hon._ Fie Sir, this is not noble.

_Duke._ Why do I stand entreating, where my power--

_Hon._ You have no power, at least you ought to have none In bad and beastly things: arm'd thus, I'le dye here, Before she suffer wrong.

_Duke._ Another _Archas_?

_Hon._ His child Sir, and his spirit.

_Duke._ I'le deal with you then, For here's the honour to be won: sit down sweet, Prethee _Honora_ sit.

_Hon._ Now ye intreat I will Sir.

_Duke._ I doe, and will deserve it.

_Hon._ That's too much kindness.

_Duke._ Prethee look on me.

_Hon._ Yes: I love to see ye, And could look on an age thus, and admire ye: Whilst ye are good and temperate I dare touch ye, Kiss your white hand.

_Duke._ Why not my lips?

_Hon._ I dare Sir.

_Duke._ I do not think ye dare.

_Hon._ I am no coward. D[o] you believe me now? or now? or now Sir? You make me blush: but sure I mean no ill Sir: It had been fitter you had kiss'd me.

_Du._ That I'le doe too. What hast thou wrought into me?

_Hon._ I hope all goodness: Whilst ye are thus, thus honest, I dare do any thing, Thus hang about your neck, and thus doat on ye; Bless those fair lights: hell take me if I durst not-- But good Sir pardon me. Sister come hither, Come hither, fear not wench: come hither, blush not, Come kiss the Prince, the vertuous Prince, the good Prince: Certain he is excellent honest.

_Du._ Thou wilt make me--

_Hon._ Sit down, and hug him softly.

_Du._ Fie _Honora_, Wanton _Honora_; is this the modesty, The noble chastity your on-set shew'd me, At first charge beaten back? Away.

_Hon._ Thank ye: Upon my knees I pray, heaven too may thank ye; Ye have deceiv'd me cunningly, yet nobly Ye have cozen'd me: In all your hopefull life yet, A Scene of greater honour you ne're acted: I knew fame was a lyar, too long, and loud tongu'd, And now I have found it: O my vertuous Master.

_Viol._ My vertuous Master too.

_Hon._ Now you are thus, What shall become of me let fortune cast for't.

_Enter_ Alinda.

_Du._ I'le be that fortune, if I live _Honora_, Thou hast done a cure upon me, counsel could not.

_Al._ Here take your ring Sir, and whom ye mean to ruine, Give it to her next; I have paid for't dearly.

_Hon._ A Ring to her?

_Du._ Why frowns my fair _Alinda_? I have forgot both these again.

_Al._ Stand still Sir, Ye have that violent killing fire upon ye, Consumes all honour, credit, faith.

_Hon._ How's this?

_Al._ My Royal Mistris favour towards me, Woe-worth ye Sir, ye have poyson'd, blasted.

_Duke._ I sweet?

_Al._ You have taken that unmanly liberty, Which in a worse man, is vain glorious feigning, And kill'd my truth.

_Du._ Upon my life 'tis false wench.

_Al._ Ladies, Take heed, ye have a cunning gamester, A handsom, and a high; come stor'd with Antidotes, He has infections else will fire your blouds.

_Du._ Prethee _Alinda_ hear me.

_Al._ Words steept in hony, That will so melt into your minds, buy Chastity, A thousand wayes, a thousand knots to tie ye; And when he has bound ye his, a thousand ruines. A poor lost woman ye have made me.

_Du._ I'le maintain thee, And nobly too.

_Al._ That Gin's too weak to take me: Take heed, take heed young Ladies: still take heed, Take heed of promises, take heed of gifts, Of forced feigned sorrows, sighs, take heed.

_Du._ By all that's mine, _Alinda_--

_Al._ Swear By your mischiefs: O whither shall I goe?

_Duke._ Go back again, I'le force her take thee, love thee.

_Alin._ Fare ye well, Sir, I will not curse ye; only this dwell with ye, When ever ye love, a false belief light on ye. [_Exit._

_Hon._ We'll take our leaves too, Sir.

_Duke._ Part all the world now, Since she is gone.

_Hon._ You are crooked yet, dear Master, And still I fear-- [_Exeunt._

_Duke._ I am vext, And some shall find it. [_Exit._