My betrothed has played me false.

For a month or more I have been prisoner in your palace, which I understand has no good name, and, if I refuse, you tell me that all of us will be cast into yonder dungeons to be sold as slaves or die prisoners of the Moors.

My lord Marquis, fate and you leave me but little choice.

On this day week I will marry you, but blame me not if you find me other than you think, as you have found my cousin whom you befooled.

Till then, also, I pray you that you will leave me quite untroubled.