Clar. Hold, great heart.
Fry. Tear open his Doublet.
Lis. Is this wound too narrow
For my life to get out at? Bring me to
A Cannon loaded, and some pitying friend
Give fire unto it, while I nail my breast
Unto his thundring mouth, that in the instant,
I may be piece-meal torn, and blown so far,
As not one joint of my dismember'd limbs
May ever be by search of man found out.
Cleander! Yet, why name I him? however
His fall deserv'd an Earth-quake, if compar'd
With what true honour in Calista suffers,
Is of no moment; my good Angel keep me
From Blasphemy, and strike me dumb before,
In th' agony of my spirit, I do accuse
The Powers above, for their unjust permission
Of Vertue, innocent Vertue, to be branded
With the least vicious mark.
Clar. I never saw a man so far transported.
Alc. Give it way, 'tis now no time to stop it.
Enter Lancelot.
Lanc. Sir, I have bought
Fresh horses; and as you respect your life,
Speedily back 'em; the Archers of the Kings guard
Are every where in quest of you.
Lis. My life?
Perish all such with thee that wish it longer,
Let it but clear Calista's innocence, [Strikes Lancelot.
And Nestor's Age, to mine was Youth, I'll flye
To meet the rage of my incensed King,
And wish his favourites Ghost appear'd in Flames,
To urge him to revenge; let all the tortures
That Tyranny e're found out circle me,
Provided Justice set Calista free.
[Exeunt Lisander, Alcidon, and Lancelot.
Alc. I'll follow him.