Virtue, that was my patroness, betrayed me: 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, Beaum. Good my lord! Nov. sen. You hinder our proceeding. 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. The place on which you sit. Charmi. Read the indictment. Char. It shall be needless; I myself, my lords, Will be my own accuser, and confess When I shall urge by what unanswerable reasons Char. Then I confess, my lords, that I stood When, with my friends, even hope itself had left me, To this man's charity for my liberty; Can it be called magnificence in a prince, By making myself here, and fame hereafter, session Brought with it ruin to himself and army, Beaum. They are here to be seen. Rom. Half of the danger Du Croy. 'Tis apparent. Charmi. Your estate, my lord, again is yours. I am not of the world: If it can prosper, 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 Charmi. What reply you, In your defence, for this? Char. I but attended Your lordship's pleasure. For the fact, as of Joined to the hate between his house and mine, Have found a way for my revenge, I did not; Nov. sen. İf all may be believed A passionate prisoner speaks, who is so foolish, To cut the throats they hate, and they will never 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 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 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, Of the dishonour done unto the court, Or be set free, or suffer punishment. [Exeunt. SCENE I. ACT I. Enter ACHILLAS and ACHOREUS. Achoreus. I LOVE the king, nor do dispute his power, For that is not confined, nor to be censured The queen, Achillas, it were, I hope, no treason, (Whose memory I bow to) left co-heir In all, he stood possessed of. Achil. Tis confessed, Women are not exempted from the sceptre, Achor. How this may My good Achoreus, that, in these eastern king- Stand with the rules of policy, I know not; doms, VOL. I. Most sure I am, it holds no correspondence Η With the rites of Egypt, or the laws of nature. 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, Of this rash counsel, their consent not sought for, But I must swear it: Yet such is my ill fortune. That should authorize 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; Their whole care to preserve themselves, and To be a Roman were an honour to you, 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 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, Fortune's fair offer: So much, I have heard, 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 Did not your manners and your life take from it, And ery 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, Be free, Septimius. Sept. 'Tis a catalogue Of all the gamesters of the court and city, Who for a tissue robe; whose husband's jealous, 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: Tor, look you, it is a kind of merriment, Achor. New doctrine! Achil. Was it of your own composing? Of a skulking scribbler for two Ptolomies; But the hints were mine own: The wretch was |