Must be your judge; and not that idle breath
Which you abusively term honour.

Dor. Your laws cannot, without partiality, pronounce Judgment against me, for they do acquit

That man of guilt that, to defend his life,
Is forc'd to slay his enemy; my act
Carries the same condition: since my fame,
Whose safety urg'd me to kill him, is my life,
My immortal life, as far transcending this
As the soul does the body; for the sword
Returns that to its primitive matter, dust;
And there it rests, forgotten; but, a wound
Struck upon reputation leaves a brand,
(So self-diffusive is dishonour's guilt,)
Even to posterity, and does revive
After it has suffer'd martyrdom.

Allows a reparation for the loss

Of fame, but gives no man a lawful licence
To snatch the privilege from the hands of justice,
Which would dispose it equally.

Dor. This strictness destroys all
Right of manhood, since a coward
May, fearlessly relying on this sufferage
Of law, affront even valour's self: consider
That the most cunning pilot cannot steer man's
Brittle vessel 'twixt these dangerous rocks
Of law and honour; safely sail by this,
And on that suffer shipwreck: for, suppose

I had with patience borne this scandalous name
Of a degenerate coward, I not only had

Nipp'd the budding valour of my youth,

As with a killing frost, but left a shame inherent

To our family; disgraced

My noble father's memory; defamed,

Nay, cowarded my ancestors, whose dust

Would have broke through the marble, to revenge

On me this fatal infamy.

Adorni. Well urg'd; and resolutely.

Dor. Nay, more: yourselves,

That hate the deed being done, would have detested

The doer worse had it not been perform'd ;

Withdrawn my charge in the army, as from me,
Protested for a coward; I might then

Have abjur'd the trade of war, in which I have been nurs'd.
Yet, for preserving this unvalued gem

Of precious honour, that hangs on my soul

Like a well-polish'd jewel in the ear

Of the exactest beauty, must I suffer

The laws' stern rigour.

Tri. Sir, I could refute,

With circumstance, your wrong opinion; but, in brief,
Religious conscience utterly disclaims

An act so barbarous: to take man's life

Is to destroy Heaven's image; and if those
Are held as traitors, and the law inflicts

Severest tortures on them who deface

The stamps of princes on their coin, can they appear

As guiltless, whose rude hands disgrace

The great Creator's image, and commit

Treason 'gainst awful Nature. Oh! my lord,
Collect your serious temper, and put of
The over-weaning fantasies of youth;
Consider what a vain deluding breath
Is reputation, if compar'd with life;
Think, that an idle or detracting word
May, by a fair submission, which our laws.
Of honour do require and will enforce,
Be wash'd away; but the red guilt of blood
Sticks, as a black infection, to the soul,
That, like an Æthiop, cannot be wash'd white:
Think upon this, and know, I must, with grief,
Pronounce your fatal sentence.

Enter Sabelli disguised in female apparel, accompanied with virgins.

Sab. My honour'd lord,

The charity I owe my native country,
That, in the ruin of this brave young man,
Would suffer infinitely, has forc'd us strive,
With early zeal, first to present our duties
For his redemption, 'mong ten thousand virgins
That would attempt it; and my true affection
Has won this favour from my fellows, that
To me they yield their interest, which I claim

As my desir'd prerogative.

Tri. 'Tis an act the State will thank you for, unveil yourself,

That we may know to whom we owe our gratitude.

A most excelling beauty! such an eye

Would tempt religious coldness to a flame,

Thaw age's chilly frost; at such a cheek,
The Spring might take a pattern to create
A most accomplish'd freshness; in her looks
Are modest signs of innocence, such as saints
Wear in their liveliest counterfeits. Doria, hear-
A lady begs you; whom, if you refuse,

The times would black you with the hateful title
Of your own wilful murder: take her to you,
And live a fortunate husband.

Dor. Noble maid! my misery is so extreme a sum,
It cannot meet your bounty without breach
Of vows, which, should I violate, would pull
Eternal torments on me: keep your beauty
For one whose soul, free as the air he breathes,
Can yield a mutual fancy to your flame,
And not destroy his honour for your goodness;
Since my expir'd date cannot yield you thanks
Worthy the boundless merit of your love,
If there can be a gratitude after death

Express'd by prayers, my soul in heav'n shall pay it To your kind charity.

Sab. O, my lord!

I did expect this answer; my poor worth
Cannot deserve your value; yet there is

A constant purity in my thoughts, that intend you
So much of bliss, that had your safety no
Dependence on my suit, it would be deem'd
Most cruel to contemn me. I have lov'd you
These many years; wish'd you as many glories
As I have number'd days; have vow'd I never
Will marry any man but your blest self, my lord:
Should you neglect the justness of my request,
Besides the danger waiting on your life,

A thousand virgins, whose unspotted prayers,
Like hosts of guardian angels, would have borne
You on their wings to heaven, will, for my sake,
Convert their zeal to curses, and, in tears
Of anguish, drown your memory.

Vit. Why, friend, this is

Such an o'er-weening passion as does question
The soundness of your judgment, fills the world
With a conceit you die, because your fears
Dare not accept of life. Besides your mistress,
To whom you would so strictly keep your faith,
Does so much scorn your constancy, that no

Entreats could move her pity undertake
This honourable employment.

Tri. Do it with speedy diligence.
Dor. Her causeless frailty

Shall more confirm my truth.

My noble lord, pronounce

My happy sentence; 'twill be welcome to me
Enter Priest and Executioner.

As charming harmony, and swell my breast
With more than human pleasure.

Tri. Are you come? approach;
Behold this executioner, and this priest!
This is to wed you to destruction—that,
To this rich mine of purity; your choice
May accept either. If you fix on this,
Besides your own redemption, you enjoy
A lady who may claim as many hearts

As she has virtuous thoughts; but lean to that,
Your spring returns unpitied to the rude
Arms of perpetual winter, that will freeze you

To a ne'er-melting icicle: be sudden,

And wise in your election.

Dor. 'Tis but vain: a saint may sooner be o'ercome to sell

His native piety. Come, thou grim man;

Thou art to me more lovely than the face of perfect

Beauty. Do thy office; it will free me

From these perplexities.

Sab. Well, my lord,

Since I'm unworthy to enjoy in life

Your fair society, my soul shall haste

To wait on you to death; there is no bliss

Without your presence: since you will not have

Mercy on your own life, by your example

I'll be as harsh to mine. I'll go

Before you to the other world,
And be your lov'd ghost's harbinger.

Tri. Hold, hold the lady!

Sab. Let no hand presume to seize me; For the meanest touch that shall

Endeavour to prevent my will,

Shall urge my speedier ruin. Good, my lord,
Shall I have answer? I would fain be going
On my long journey.

Dor. I'm confounded

In my imagination. I must yield.

You have enforc'd a benefit upon me, I
Can hardly thank you for: yet I will try
To love you as my wife. That I were lost
In clouds of black forgetfulness!

Enter Chrisea and Eurione.

Chri. Sir, we come to gratulate your beauteous bride,

And wish your joys immortal.

Sab. I hope, madam, my innocence has giv'n you no offence,

That you refuse me, being a stranger to you,

The ceremonious wishes which pertain

To new-made brides, and only do confer them
Upon my lord.

Chri. Your happiness already

Is so superlative, I cannot think

A new addition to it ;^ You enjoy

The

very sum of fortune in your match

To such a noble and illustrious husband ;

I can no longer hold my passion in.

These walls of flesh are not of

Strength sufficient to contain

My big swoln heart. My lords, behold a creature

So infinitely wretched, I deserve not

The meanest show of pity, who have, like

A silly merchant, trifled away a gem
The darling of the quarry, lost a love
By my too foolish niceness, to regain
Whose forfeiture I would lay down my life;
But he is gone for ever, and I left

A piteous spectacle for the reproach
And scorn of wiser women.

Eur. Is this possible?

Was all her passion to Vitelli feign'd?
My hopes recover life again.

Tri. Why, Chrisea,

Whence springs this passionate fury ?

Chri. Oh! my lord,

When you shall hear it, you will sigh for me,
And shed a charitable tear, at thought

Of my unkind disaster: sir, my justice
Cannot accuse your constancy, which stood
In the first trial of your love, as fast
And spotless as an alabaster rock,
That had it but persisted in that height
Of honourable loyalty, your glory