Leon. Heaven bless us all.
From whence comes this distemper? speak my fair one.
Bac. And have you none, Love and Obedience,
You[r] ever faithful Servants to imploy
In this strange story of impiety,
But me a Mother; Must I be your strumpet?
To lay black Treason upon, and in him,
In whom all sweetness was: in whom my love
Was [proud] to have a Being, in whom Justice,
And all the gods for our imaginations
Can work into a man, were more than virtues,
Ambition down to hell, where thou wert foster'd,
Thou hast poison'd the best soul, the purest, whitest,
And meerest innocent'st it self that ever
Mens greedy hopes gave life to.
Leon. This is still stranger: lay this treason
Open to my correction.
Bac. Oh what a combat duty and affection
Breeds in my blood!
Leon. If thou conceal'st him, may,
Beside my death, the curses of the Countrey,
Troubles of conscience, and a wretched end,
Bring thee unto a poor forgotten grave.
Bach. My Being: for another tongue to tell it,
Cease, a Mother! some good man that dares
Speak for his King and Countrey: I am full
Of too much womans pity: yet oh Heaven,
Since it concerns the safety of my Sovereign,
Let it not be a cruelty in me,
Nor draw a Mothers name in question,
Amongst unborn people, to give up that man
To Law and Justice, that unrighteously
Has sought his Fathers death: be deaf: be deaf Sir,
Your Son is the offender: Now have you all,
Would I might never speak again.
Leon. My Son! Heaven help me.
No more! I thought it, and since
His life is grown so dangerous: Let them that
Gave him, take him: he shall dye,
And with him all my fears.
Bac. Oh use your mercy: you have a brave subject
To bestow it on. I'll forgive him, Sir; and for his
Wrong to me, I'll be before ye.
Leon. Durst his villany extend to thee?
Bac. Nothing but heats of youth, Sir.