Of thankfulness to the dead general,

By whom you were raised, have practised to be so
To my good lord Novall, by whom I live;
Whose least disgrace, that is or may be offered,
With all the hazard of my life and fortunes,
I will make good on you, or any man
That has a hand in't: and, since you
allow me
A gentleman and a soldier, there's no doubt
You will except against me. You shall meet
With a fair enemy; you understand
The right I look for, and must have.

To my own thoughts.-if this be to me,

rise :

[Beaumel. kneels. I am not worthy the looking on, but only To feed contempt and scorn; and that from you, Who with the loss of your fair name have caused it, Were too much cruelty.

Beaumel. I dare not move you

To hear me speak. I know my fault is far
Beyond qualification or excuse;
That 'tis not fit for me to hope, or you
To think of mercy; only I presume

To entreat you would be pleased to look upon
My sorrow for it, and believe these tears
Are the true children of my grief,
And not a woman's cunning.

Char. Can you, Beaumelle,
Having deceived so great a trust as mine,
Though I were all credulity, hope again
To get belief? No, no; if y
you look on me
With pity, or dare practise any means
To make my sufferings less, or give just cause
To all the world to think what I must do,
Was called upon by you, use other ways;
Deny what I have seen, or justify

What you have done; and, as you desperately
Made shipwreck of your faith, to be a whore,
Use the arms of such a one, and such defence,
And multiply the sin with impudence.
Stand boldly up, and tell me to my teeth,
That you have done but what is warranted
By great examples, in all places where
Women inhabit: Urge your own deserts,
Or want in me of merit: Tell me how
Your dower, from the low gulf of poverty,
VOL. I.

Weighed up my fortunes to what now they are: That I was purchased by your choice and practice To shelter you from shame, that you might sin As boldly as securely; that poor men

Are married to those wives that bring them wealth,

One day their husbands, but observers ever:
That when by this proud usage you have blown
The fire of my just vengeance to the height,
I then may kill you; and yet say, it was done
In heat of blood, and after die myself,
To witness my repentance.

Beaumel. O my fate!

That never would consent that I should see
How worthy thou wert both of love and duty,
Before I lost you; and my misery made
The glass, in which I now behold your virtue!
While I was good I was a part of you,
And of two, by the virtuous harmony
Of our fair minds, made one: But, since I wan-
dered

In the forbidden labyrinth of lust,
What was inseparable is by me divided.
With justice, therefore, you may cut me off,
And from your memory wash the remembrance
That e'er I was; like to some vicious purpose,
Which, in your better judgment, you repent of,
And study to forget.

Char. O Beaumelle !

O, sir, most welcome! Let me take your cloak;
I must not be denied. Here are your robes;
As you love justice, once more put them on.
There is a cause to be determined of,
That does require such an integrity
As you have ever used. I'll put you to
The trial of your constancy and goodness;
And look that you, that have been eagle-eyed
In other men's affairs, prove not a mole
In what concerns yourself. Take you your seat;
I will before you presently.
[Exit.

Roch. Angels guard me!

G

Roch. It is granted, speak-You shall have justice.

Char. I then here accuse,

Most equal judge, the prisoner, your fair daughter,
For whom I owed so much to you: your daughter,
So worthy in her own parts, and that worth
Set forth by yours, to whose so rare perfections,
Truth witness with me, in the place of service,
I almost paid idolatrous sacrifice,

To be a false adultress.

Roch. With whom?

Char. With this Novall, here dead.
Roch. Be well advised,

And, ere you say adultress again,
Her fame depending on it, be most sure
That she is one.

Char. I took them in the act.
I know no proof beyond it.
Roch. O my heart!

Char. A judge should feel no passions.
Roch. Yet, remember

He is a man, and cannot put off nature.
What answer makes the prisoner!

Beaumel. I confess

The fact I am charged with, and yield myself
Most miserably guilty.

Roch. Heaven take mercy

Upon your soul, then! It must leave your body.

Now free nine cyes: I dare unmoved look on her,
And fortify my sentence with strong reasons.
Since that the politic law provides the servants,
To whose care we commit our goods, shall die,
If they abuse our trust; what can you look for,
To whose charge this most hopeful lord gave up
All he received from his brave ancestors,
Or he could leave to his posterity?

His honour wicked woman! in whose safety
All his life's joys and comforts were locked up,
Which thy lust, a thief, hath now stolen from
him;

And therefore

Char. Stay, just judge.-May not what's lost

Char. Let her die, then.

[He kills her. Better prepared I am sure I could not take her, Nor she accuse her father as a judge, Partial against her.

Beaumel. I approve his sentence,
And kiss the executioner: My lust

Is now run from me in that blood, in which
It was begot and nourished.

Roch. Is she dead, then?

[Dies.

Char. Yes, Sir, this is her heart-blood, is it

not?

I think it be.

Roch. And you have killed her?

Char. True, and did it by your doom.
Roch. But I pronounced it

As a judge only, and a friend to justice,
And, zealous in defence of your wronged honour,
Broke all the ties of nature; and cast off
The love and soft affection of a father.
I, in your cause, put on a scarlet robe
Of red dyed cruelty; but, in return,
You have advanced for me no flag of mercy.
I looked on you as a wronged husband; but
You closed your eyes against me as a father.
O Beaunelle! my daughter!

Char. This is madness.

Roch. Keep from me.-Could not one good thought rise up,

To tell you that she was my age's comfort,
Begot by a weak man, and born a woman,
And could not, therefore, but partake of frailty?
Or wherefore did not thankfulness step forth,
To urge my many merits, which I may
Object unto you, since you prove ungrateful;
Flinty-hearted Charalois!

Char. Nature does prevail above your virtue.
Roch. No; it gives me eyes,

To pierce the heart of your design against me. I find it now; it was my estate was aimed at, A nobler match was sought for, and the hours I lived, grew tedious to you: my compassion Towards you hath rendered me most miserable, And foolish charity undone myself.

wreak

No mists of policy can hide offenders.

Enter NoVALL sen. with Officers.

Nov. sen. Force ope the doors.-O monster! cannibal !

Lay hold on him-My son! my son!-O fort!

'Twas you gave liberty to this bloody wolf To worry all our comforts.-But this is

For the revenge.

Roch. Call it a fitter name. -Justice for innocent blood.

assistance

SCENE I.

Enter LILADAM, Tailor, and Officers.

Lilad. Why, it is both most unconscionable and untimely,

To arrest a gallant for his clothes, before
He has worn them out. Besides, you said
asked

you

My name in my lord's bond but for form only,
And now you'll lay me up for it. Do not think
The taking measure of a customer

By a brace of varlets, though I rather wait
Never so patiently, will prove a fashion
Which any courtier or Inns-of-court-man
Would follow willingly.

Tail. There I believe you.

But, sir! I must have present monies, or
Assurance, to secure me when I shall
Or I will see to your coming forth.
Lilad. Plague on it!

You have provided for my entrance in:
That coming forth you talk of, concerns me.
What shall I do? You have done me a disgrace
In the arrest, but more in giving cause
To all the street, to think I cannot stand
Without these two supporters for my arms.
Pray you, let them loose me: For their satisfac-

tion

Let him but give his word I shall be paid,
And you are free.

Lilad. 'Slid! I'll put him to it;

I can be but denied: or-what say you?
His lordship owing me three times your debt,
If you arrest him at my suit, and let me
Go run before, to see the action entered,
'Twould be a witty jest.

Tail. I must have earnest.

I cannot pay my debts so.

Pont. Can your lordship

Imagine, while I live, and wear a sword,
Your son's death shall be unrevenged?

Nov. sen. I know not

old

One reason why you should not do like others:
I am sure, of all the herd that fed upon him,
I cannot see in any, now he is gone,
In pity or in thankfulness, one true sign
Of sorrow for him.

Pont. All his bounties yet

Fell not in such unthankful ground: 'Tis true, He had weaknesses, but such as few are free from.

And, though none soothed them less than I, for

now,

To say that I foresaw the dangers that
Would rise from cherishing them, were but un-

timely,

I yet could wish the justice, that you seek for
In the revenge, had been trusted to me,
And not the uncertain issue of the laws:
It has robbed me of a noble testimony
Of what I durst do for him.-But, however,
My forfeit life, redeemed by him, though dead,
Shall do him service.

Nov. sen. As far as my grief
Will give me leave, I thank you.
Lilad. O, my lord!

Oh, my good lord! deliver me from these fu

A general face of sorrow, waited on
By a sad murinur, breaking through their silence,
And no eye but was readier with a tear
To witness 'twas shed for me, than I could
Discern a face made up with scorn against me.
Why should I, then, though for unusual wrongs
I chose unusual means to right those wrongs,
Condemn myself, as over partial

In my own cause?-Romont!

Rom. Best friend, well met!

By my heart's love to you, and join to that
My thankfulness that still lives to the dead,
I look upon you now with more true joy,
Than when I saw you married.

Char. You have reason

I'm conscious I have wronged you, and allow me
Only a moral man, to look on you,
Whom foolishly I have abused and injured,
Must of necessty be more terrible to me,
Than any death the judges can pronounce
From the tribunal which I am to plead at.
Rom. Passion transports you.
Char. For what I have done
To my false lady, or Novall, I can

Give some apparent cause; but, touching you,
In my defence, child-like, I can say nothing,
But I am sorry for it; a poor satisfaction!
And yet, mistake me not; for it is more
Than I will speak, to have my pardon signed
For all I stand accused of.

Rom. You much weaken

Of a full theatre of perfect men,

As he hath done in this: The glory got
By overthrowing outward enemies,
Since strength and fortune are main sharers in it,
We cannot, but by pieces, call our own:
But, when we conquer our intestine foes,
Our passions bred within us, and of those
The most rebellious tyrant, powerful love,
Our reason suffering us to like no longer
Than the fair object, being good, deserves it,
That's a true victory; which, were great men
Ambitious to atchieve by your example,
Setting no price upon the breach of faith,
But loss of life, 'twould fright adultery
Out of their families; and make lust appear
As loathsome to us in the first consent,
As when 'tis waited on by punishment.

Char. You have confirmed me. Who would love a woman

That might enjoy, in such a man, a friend?
You've made me know the justice of my cause,
And marked me out the way how to defend it.
Rom. Continue to that resolution constant,
And you shall, in contempt of their worst malice,
Come off with honour.-Here they come.
Char. I am ready.

think,

A man for doing well could entertain

A pardon, were it offered. You have given
To blind and slow-paced justice, wings and eyes,
To see and overtake impieties,

Which from a cold proceeding had received
Indulgence or protection.

Char. Think you so?

Rom. Upon my soul, nor should the blood you challenge

And took to cure your honour, breed more scruple

In your soft conscience, than if your sword
Had been sheathed in a tygress or she bear,
That in their bowels would have made your tomb.
To injure innocence is more than murder:
But when inhuman lusts transform us, then
As beasts we are to suffer, not like men,
To be lamented. Nor did Charalois ever
Perform an act so worthy the applause

Charm. This is not well.

I would you had lived so, my lord! that I, Might rather have continued your poor servant, Than sit here as your judge.

Du Croy. I am sorry for you.

Roch. In no act of my life I have deserved
This injury from the court, that any here
Should thus uncivilly usurp on what
Is proper to me only.

Du Croy. What distaste
Receives my lord?

Roch. You say you are sorry for him: A grief in which I must not have a partner: 'Tis I alone am sorry, that when I raised The building of my life, for seventy years, Upon so sure a ground, that all the vices, Practised to ruin man, though brought against me, Could never undermine, and no way left To send these gray hairs to the grave with sor

row,