on, sir.

Vit. By your favour,
I will not have my accusation clouded
In a strange tongue: all this assembly
Shall hear what you can charge me with.

Fran. Signior,
You need not stand on 't much; pray, change your language.

Mont. Oh, for God's sake--Gentlewoman, your credit
Shall be more famous by it.

Lawyer. Well then, have at you.

Vit. I am at the mark, sir; I 'll give aim to you,
And tell you how near you shoot.

Lawyer. Most literated judges, please your lordships
So to connive your judgments to the view
Of this debauch'd and diversivolent woman;
Who such a black concatenation
Of mischief hath effected, that to extirp
The memory of 't, must be the consummation
Of her, and her projections----

Vit. What 's all this?

Lawyer. Hold your peace!
Exorbitant sins must have exulceration.

Vit. Surely, my lords, this lawyer here hath swallow'd
Some 'pothecaries' bills, or proclamations;
And now the hard and undigestible words
Come up, like stones we use give hawks for physic.
Why, this is Welsh to Latin.

Lawyer. My lords, the woman
Knows not her tropes, nor figures, nor is perfect
In the academic derivation
Of grammatical elocution.

Fran. Sir, your pains
Shall be well spar'd, and your deep eloquence
Be worthily applauded amongst thouse
Which understand you.

Lawyer. My good lord.

Fran. Sir,
Put up your papers in your fustian bag--
[Francisco speaks this as in scorn.
Cry mercy, sir, 'tis buckram and accept
My notion of your learn'd verbosity.

Lawyer. I most graduatically thank your lordship:
I shall have use for them elsewhere.

Mont. I shall be plainer with you, and paint out
Your follies in more natural red and white
Than that upon your cheek.

Vit. Oh, you mistake!
You raise a blood as noble in this cheek
As ever was your mother's.

Mont. I must spare you, till proof cry whore to that.
Observe this creature here, my honour'd lords,
A woman of must prodigious spirit,
In her effected.

Vit. My honourable lord,
It doth not suit a reverend cardinal
To play the lawyer thus.

Mont. Oh, your trade instructs your language!
You see, my lords, what goodly fruit she seems;
Yet like those apples travellers report
To grow where Sodom and Gomorrah stood,
I will but touch her, and you straight shall