Take him away,
My fore-past proofes, how ere the matter fall
Shall taze my feares of little vanitie,
Hauing vainly fear'd too little. Away with him,
Wee'l sift this matter further
Ber. If you shall proue
This Ring was euer hers, you shall as easie
Proue that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she neuer was.
Enter a Gentleman.
King. I am wrap'd in dismall thinkings
Gen. Gracious Soueraigne.
Whether I haue beene too blame or no, I know not,
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath for foure or fiue remoues come short,
To tender it her selfe. I vndertooke it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the faire grace and speech
Of the poore suppliant, who by this I know
Is heere attending: her businesse lookes in her
With an importing visage, and she told me
In a sweet verball breefe, it did concerne
Your Highnesse with her selfe.
A Letter.
Vpon his many protestations to marrie mee when his wife was
dead, I blush to say it, he wonne me. Now is the Count Rossillion
a Widdower, his vowes are forfeited to mee, and my
honors payed to him. Hee stole from Florence, taking no
leaue, and I follow him to his Countrey for Iustice: Grant
it me, O King, in you it best lies, otherwise a seducer flourishes,
and a poore Maid is vndone.
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