Vir. Pray have patience.
The recompence she ask'd, and I have render'd,
Was to become her husband: then I vowed it,
And since I have made it good.
Pand. Thou durst not.
Vir. Done Sir.
Jul. Be what you please, his happiness yet stays with me,
You have been mine; oh my unhappy fortune.
Pand. Nay, break and dye.
Jul. It cannot yet: I must live,
Till I see this man, blest in his new love,
And then——
Pand. What hast thou done? thou base one tell me,
Thou barren thing of honesty, and honor;
What hast thou wrought? Is not this she, look on her,
Look on her, with the eyes of gratitude,
And wipe thy false tears off; Is not this she,
That three times on the Rack, to guard thy safety,
When thou stood'st lost, and naked to the Tyrant;
Thy aged Father here, that shames to know thee,
Ingag'd i'th' jaws of danger; was not this she,
That then gave up her body to the torture?
That tender body, that the wind sings through;
And three times, when her sinews, crack'd and tortur'd,
The beauties of her body turn'd to ruines;
Even then, within her patient heart, she lock'd thee;
Then hid thee from the Tyrant, then preserv'd thee,
And canst thou be that slave?
Martia. This was but duty,
She did it for her Husband, and she ought it;
She has had the pleasure of him, many an hour,
And if one minutes pain cannot be suffer'd;
Mine was above all these, a nobler venter,
I speak it boldly, for I lost a Father.
He has one still, I left my friends, he has many;
Expos'd my life, and honor to a cruelty,
That if it had seiz'd on me, racks and tortures,
Alas, they are Triumphs to it: and had it hit,
For this mans love, it should have shewed a triumph,
Twise lost, I freed him; Rossana lost before him,
His fortunes with him; and his friends behind him:
Twise was I rack'd my self for his deliverance,
In honor first and name, which was a torture
The hang-man never heard of; next at Sea,
In our escape, where the proud waves took pleasure
To toss my little Boat up like a bubble,
Then like a meteor in the ayr he hung,
Then catch'd and flung him in the depth of darkness;
The Cannon from my incensed Fathers Ship,
Ringing our Knell, and still as we peep'd upward,
Beating the raging surge, with fire and Bullet,
And I stood fixt for this mans sake, and scorn'd it;
Compare but this.
Vir. 'Tis too true; O my fortune!
That I must equally be bound to either.
Jul. You have the better and the nobler Lady,
And now I am forc'd, a lover of her goodness.
And so far have you wrought for his deliverance,
That is my Lord, so lovingly and nobly,
That now methinks I stagger in my Title.
But how with honesty? for I am a poor Lady,
In all my dutious service but your shadow,
Yet would be just; how with fair fame and credit,
I may go off; I would not be a strumpet:
O my dear Sir, you know: