Duke. Speak freely, be thy language ne'er so bitter,
To see thee safe Alberto, signes thy pardon.
Alber. My pardon? I can need none, if it be not
Receiv'd for an offence. I tamely bear
Wrongs, which a slave-born Muscovite would check at.
Why if for Treason I had been deliver'd
Up to the Hangmans Axe, and this dead trunk
Unworthy of a Christian Sepulchre;
Expos'd a prey to feed the ravenous Vulture,
The memory of the much I oft did for you,
Had you but any touch of gratitude,
Or thought of my deservings, would have stopp'd you
From these unjust proceedings.
Duke. Hear the motives that did induce us.
Alber. I have heard them all,
Your Highness sentence, the whole Court abus'd,
By the perjuries and practice of this woman.
(Wepest thou Crocodile) my hopeful son,
Whom I dare swear mine own, degraded of
The honors that descend to him from me:
And from that, in his love scorn'd by a creature
Whose base birth, though made eminent by her beauty,
Might well have mark'd her out Cesario's servant,
All this I could have pardon'd and forgot;
But that my daughter with my whole Estate
So hardly purchas'd, is assign'd a Dower;
To one whose Father, and whose Family
I so detest; that I would lose my essence
And be transformed to a Basiliske
To look them dead, to me's an injury
Admits no satisfaction.
Alber. Nor would not be accepted,
Though upon thy knees 'twere tender'd.
Maria. Now the storm grows high.
Bap. But that I thought thee dead, and in thy death
The brinie Ocean had entomb'd thy name;
I would have sought a Wife in a Bordello
For my Mentivole, and gladly hugg'd
Her spurious issue as my lawful Nephews,
Before his blood should e'er have mix'd with thine;
So much I scorn it.
Alber. I'll not bandy words, but thus dissolve the contract.
Bap. There I meet thee, and seize on what's mine own.