Virtue, that was my patroness, betrayed me:
For, entering, nay, possessing, this young man,
It lent him such a powerful majesty,
To grace whatever he undertook, that freely
I gave myself up with my liberty,
To be at his disposing: Had his person,
Lovely I must confess, or far-famed valour,
Or any other seeming good, that yet

Holds a near neighbourhood with ill, wrought on

me,

I might have borne it better: But, when goodness And piety itself, in her best figure,

Were bribed to my destruction, can you blame

me,

Though I forget to suffer like a man,
Or rather act a woman?

Beaum. Good my lord!

Now. sen. You hinder our proceeding.
Charmi. And forget

The part of an accuser.

Beaum. 'Pray you, remember

To use the temper, which to me you promised. Roch. Angels themselves must break, Beaumont, that promise,

Beyond their strength and patience of angels. But I have done :-My good lord! pardon me, A weak old man; and pray add to that

A miserable father; yet be careful

That your compassion of my age, nor his,

Move you to any thing, that may mis-become

The place on which you sit.

Charmi. Read the indictment.

Can it be called magnificence in a prince,
To pour down riches, with a liberal hand,
Upon a poor man's wants, if that must bind hir
To play the soothing parasite to his vices?
Or any man, because he saved my hand,
Presume my head and heart are at his service?
Or, did I stand engaged to buy my freedom
(When my captivity was honourable)

By making myself here, and fame hereafter,
Bondslaves to men's scorn and calumnious tongues?
Had his fair daughter's mind been like her fea-
tures,

Or, for some little blemish, I had sought
For my content elsewhere, wasting on others
My body and her dowry; my forehead then
Deserved the brand of base ingratitude:
But if obsequious usage, and fair warning,
To keep her worth my love, could not preserve
her

From being a whore, and yet no cunning one,
So to offend, and yet the fault kept from me;
What should I do? Let any free-born spirit
Determine truly, if that thankfulness,

Choice form, with the whole world given for
dowry,

Could strengthen so an honest man with patience, As with a willing neck to undergo

The insupportable yoke of slave or wittol! Charm. What proof have you she did play false, besides

Your oath?

lords,

spare

Will be my own accuser, and confess
All they can charge me with: nor will I
To aggravate that guilt with circumstance,
They seek to load me with: Only I pray,
That, as for them you will vouchsafe me hearing,
I may not be denied it for myself,
When I shall urge by what unanswerable reasons
I was compelled to what I did, which yet,
Till you have taught me better, I repent not.
Roch. The motion's honest.
Charmi. And 'tis freely granted.

Char. Then I confess, my lords, that I stood bound,

When, with my friends, even hope itself had left

me,

To this man's charity for my liberty;
Nor did his bounty end there, but began:
For, after my enlargement, cherishing
The good he did, he made me master of
His only daughter and his whole estate :
Great ties of thankfulness, I must acknowledge;
Could any one, fee'd by you, press this further?
But yet consider, my most honoured lords!
If to receive a favour, make a servant,
And benefits are bonds to tie the taker
To the imperious will of him that gives,
There's none but slaves will receive courtesies,
Since they must fetter us to our dishonours.

Roch. 'Tis most true.

I would not willingly blend my last words
With an untruth.

Char. And then to clear myself,
That his great wealth was not the mark I shot at,
But that I held it, when fair Beaumelle
Fell from her virtue, like the fatal gold
Which Brennus took from Delphos, whose pos-
session

Brought with it ruin to himself and army,
Here's one in court, Beaumont, by whom I sent
All grants and writings back which made it mine,
Before his daughter died by his own sentence,
As freely as unasked he gave it to me.

Beaum. They are here to be seen.
Charmi. Open the casket.
Peruse that deed of gift.

Rom. Half of the danger
Already is discharged: The other part
As bravely, and you are not only free,
But crowned with praise for ever.

Du Croy. 'Tis apparent.

Charmi. Your estate, my lord, again is yours.
Roch. Not mine;

I am not of the world: If it can prosper,
(And yet, being justly got, I'll not examine
Why it should be so fatal) do you bestow it
On pious uses: I'll go seek a grave.

And yet, for proof, I die in peace, your pardon

I ask; and, as you grant it me, may Heaven, Your conscience, and these judges, free you from What you are charged with! So farewell for ever. [Exit Rochfort.

Nov. sen. I'll be mine own guide. Passion, nor example,

Shall be my leaders. I have lost a son,

A son, grave judges! I require his blood
From his accursed homicide.

Charmi. What reply you,
In your defence, for this?
Char. I but attended

Your lordship's pleasure. For the fact, as of
The former, I confess it; but with what
Base wrongs I was unwillingly drawn to it,
To my few words there are some other proofs
To witness this for truth. When I was inarried
(For there I must begin) the slain Novall
Was to my wife, in way of our French courtship,
A most devoted servant; but yet aimed at
Nothing but means to quench his wanton heat,
His heart being never warmed by lawful fires,
As mine was, lords; and though, on these pre-
sumptions,

Joined to the hate between his house and mine,
I might, with opportunity and ease,

Have found a way for my revenge, I did not;
But still he had the freedom as before,
When all was mine; and, told that he abused it
With some unseemly licence, by my friend,
My approved friend, Romont, I gave no credit
To the reporter, but reproved him for it,
As one uncourtly and malicious to him.
What could I more, my lords? Yet, after this,
He did continue in his first pursuit,
Hotter than ever, and at length obtained it;
But, how it came to my most certain knowledge,
For the dignity of the court, and my own honour,
I dare not say.

Nov. sen. If all may be believed

A passionate prisoner speaks, who is so foolish,
That durst be wicked, that will appear guilty?
No, my grave lords: In his impunity
But give example unto jealous men

To cut the throats they hate, and they will never
Want matter or pretence for their bad ends.
Charmi. You must find other proofs to
strengthen these,

But mere presumptions.

Du Croy. Or we shall hardly Allow your innocence.

Char. All your attempts

Shall fail on me, like brittle shafts on armour, That break themselves; or like waves against a rock,

That leave no sign of their ridiculous fury
But foam and splinters; my innocence like these
Shail stand triuinphant, and your malice serve
But for a trumpet to proclaim my conquest:
Nor shall you, though you do the worst fate can,
Howe'er condemn, affright an honest man.

Rom. May it please the court, I may be heard?

|

Nov. sen. You come not

To rail again? But do-You shall not find Another Rochfort.

Rom. In Novall I cannot.

But I come furnished with what will stop
The mouth of his conspiracy against the life
Of innocent Charalois. Do you know this cha-
racter?

Nov. sen. Yes, 'tis my son's.

Rom. May it please your lordships, read it, And you shall find there, with what vehemency He did solicit Beaumelle; how he had got A promise from her to enjoy his wishes; How after he abjured her

company,

And yet (but that 'tis fit I spare the dead)
Like a damned villain, as soon as recorded,
He brake that oath: To make this manifest,
Produce his bawds and her's.

Enter AYMER, FLORIMEL, and BELLAPERT.
Charmi. Have they took their oaths?

Rom. They have, and, rather than endure the rack,

Confess the time, the meeting, nay the act; What would you more? Only this matron made A free discovery to a good end;

And therefore I sue to the court, she may not Be placed in the black list of the delinquents. Pont. I see by this, Novall's revenge needs me; And I shall do.

Charmi. 'Tis evident

Nov. sen. That I

Till now was never wretched: Here's no place To curse him or my stars. [Exit Novall sen.

Charmi. Lord Charalois!

The injuries, you have sustained, appear
So worthy of the mercy of the court,
That, notwithstanding you have gone beyond
The letter of the law, they yet acquit you.
Pont. But, in Novall, I do condemn him-thus.
[Stabs him.

Char. I am slain !
Rom. Can I look on? Oh, murderous wretch!
Thy challenge now I answer. So, die with him!
[Stabs Pontalier.
Charmi. A guard! disarm him!
Rom. I yield up my sword
Unforced-Oh, Charalois !

Char. For shame, Romont!

Mourn not for him that dies as he hath lived; Still constant and unmoved: What's fallen upon

Our reasons are to remedy our wrongs,
We're yet to leave them to their will and power,
That to that purpose have authority.
For you, Romont, although in your excuse
You may plead what you did was in revenge

Of the dishonour done unto the court,
Yet, since from us you had not warrant for it,
We banish you the state: For these, they shall,
As they are found guilty or innocent,

Or be set free, or suffer punishment.

[Exeunt.

With the rites of Egypt, or the laws of nature.
But, grant that Cleopatra can sit down
With this disgrace, though insupportable,
Can you imagine, that Rome's glorious senate,
To whose charge, by the will of the dead king,
This government was delivered, or great Pompey,
That is appointed Cleopatra's guardian,
As well as Ptolomy's, will e'er approve

And the four hundred gods and goddesses, Adored in Rome, I am your honours' servant. Achor. Truth needs, Septimius, no oaths Achil. You're cruel;

If you deny him swearing, you take from him Three full parts of his language.

Sept. Your honour's bitter.

Confound me, where I love, I cannot say it,

Achil. The civil war,

In which the Roman empire is embarked

On a rough sea of danger, does exact

Nor vows nor protestations win belief;
I think, (and I can find no other reason)
Because I am a Roman.
Achor. No, Septimius;

give them

No vacant time to think of what we do,
Which hardly can concern them.

Achor. What's your opinion

Of the success? I have heard, in multitudes
Of soldiers, and all glorious pomp of war,
Pompey is much superior.

Achil. I could give you

A catalogue of all the several nations,

From whence he drew his powers; but that were

tedious.

They have rich arms, are ten to one in number,
Which makes them think the day already won;
And Pompey being master of the sea,
Such plenty of all delicates are brought in,
As if the place, on which they are entrenched,
Were not a camp of soldiers, but Rome,
In which Lucullus and Apicius joined
To make a public feast. They at Dirachium
Fought with success; but knew not to make use
of

Fortune's fair offer: So much, I have heard,
Caesar himself confessed.

Achor. Where are they now?

Achil. In Thessaly, near the Pharsalian plains; Where Cæsar, with a handful of his men, Hems in the greater number. His whole troops Exceed not twenty thousand, but old soldiers, Fleshed in the spoils of Germany and France, Inured to his command, and only know To fight and overcome: And though that famine Reigns in his camp, compelling them to taste Bread made of roots, forbid the use of man, (Which they, with scorn, threw into Pompey's camp,

As in derision of his delicates)

Or corn not yet half ripe, and that a banquet;
They still besiege him, being ambitious only
To come to blows, and let their swords determine
Who hath the better cause.

Enter SEPTIMIUS.

Achor. May victory

Attend on it, where'er it is.
Achil. We every hour

Expect to hear the issue.

Sept. Save my good lords!

By Isis and Osiris, whom you worship,

Did not your manners and your life take from it, And cry aloud, that from Rome you bring nothing But Roman vices, which you would plant here, But no seed of her virtues.

Sept. With your reverence,

I am too old to learn.

Achor. Any thing honest; That I believe without an oath. Sept. I fear

Your lordship has slept ill to-night, and that Invites this sad discourse; it will make you old Before your time. Oh, these virtuous morals, And old religious principles, that fool us!

I have brought you a new song will make you laugh,

Though you were at your prayers.
Achor. What is the subject?

Be free, Septimius.

Sept. 'Tis a catalogue

Of all the gamesters of the court and city, Which lord lies with that lady, and what gallant Sports with that merchant's wife; and does relate Who sells her honour for a diamond,

Who for a tissue robe; whose husband's jealous, And who so kind, that, to share with his wife, Will make the match himself: Harmless conceits, Though fools say they are dangerous. I sang it The last night, at my lord Photinus' table. Achor. How? as a fiddler?

Sept. No, sir, as a guest,

A welcome guest too; and it was approved of By a dozen of his friends, though they were touched in it:

For, look you, it is a kind of merriment,
When we have laid by foolish modesty,
(As not a man of fashion will wear it)
To talk what we have done, at least to hear it;
If merrily set down, it fires the blood,
And heightens crest-fallen appetite.
Achor. New doctrine!

Achil. Was it of your own composing?
Sept. No, I bought it

Of a skulking scribbler for two Ptolomies;
But the hints were mine own: The wretch was