[Exit.

      [Enter Leon, and Margarita.]

Leon: 

      Come, we’l away unto your country house,
      And there we’l learn to live contently,
      This place is full of charge, and full of hurry,
      No part of sweetness dwells about these cities.

Margarita: 

      Whither you will, I wait upon your pleasure;
      Live in a hollow tree Sir, I’le live with ye.

Leon: 

      I, now you strike a harmony, a true one,
      When your obedience waits upon your Husband,
      And your sick will aims at the care of honour,
      Why now I dote upon ye, love ye dearly,
      And my rough nature falls like roaring streams,
      Clearly and sweetly into your embraces. 
      O what a Jewel is a woman excellent,
      A wise, a vertuous and a noble woman! 
      When we meet such, we bear our stamps on both sides,
      And through the world we hold our currant virtues,
      Alone we are single medals, only faces,
      And wear our fortunes out in useless shadows,
      Command you now, and ease me of that trouble,
      I’le be as humble to you as a servant,
      Bid whom you please, invite your noble friends,
      They shall be welcome all, visit acquaintance,
      Goe at your pleasure, now experience
      Has link’t you fast unto the chain of goodness: 
      What noise is this, what dismal cry?

[Clashing swords.  A cry within, down with their swords.]

Margarita: 

’Tis loud too. 
Sure there’s some mischief done i’th’ street, look out there.

Leon: 

Look out and help.

      [Enter a Servant.]

Servant: 

      Oh Sir the Duke Medina.

Leon: 

What of the Duke Medina?

Servant: 

Oh sweet Gentleman, is almost slain.

Margarita: 

Away away and help him, all the house help.
[Exit Servant.

Leon: 

How slain? why Margarita,
Why wife, sure some new device they have a foot again,
225] Some trick upon my credit, I shall meet it,
I had rather guide a ship Imperial
Alone, and in a storm, than rule one woman.

[Enter Duke, Margarita, Sanchio, Alonzo, Servant.]

Margarita: 

      How came ye hurt Sir?

Duke of Medina: 

      I fell out with my friend the noble Coronel,
      My cause was naught, for ’twas about your honour: 
      And he that wrongs the Innocent ne’r prospers,
      And he has left me thus for charity,
      Lend me a bed to ease my tortur’d body,
      That e’re I perish I may show my penitence,
      I fear I am slain.

Leon: 

      Help Gentlemen to carry him,
      There shall be nothing in this house my Lord,
      But as your own.