Jul. Heaven defend me from him!
Gons. Why, madam, can you doubt a rudeness from me?
Your very fears and griefs create an awe,
Such majesty they bear; methinks, I see
Your soul retired within her inmost chamber.
Like a fair mourner sit in state, with all
The silent pomp of sorrow round about her.
Man. Your language does express a man, bred up To worthier ways than those you follow now.
Gons. What does he mean? [Aside.
Man. If (as it seems) you love; love is a passion,
Which kindles honour into noble acts:
Restore my sister's liberty; oblige her,
And see what gratitude will work.
Gons. All this is stranger yet.
Man. Whate'er a brother's power To-morrow can do for you, claim it boldly.
Gons. I know not why you think yourselves my prisoners;
This lady's freedom is a thing too precious
To be disposed by any but herself:
But value this small service as you please,
Which you reward too prodigally, by
Permitting me to pay her more.
Jul. Love from an outlaw? from a villain, love?
If I have that power on thee, thou pretend'st,
Go and pursue thy mischiefs, but presume not
To follow me:—Come, brother. [Ex. Jul. and Man.
Gons. Those foul names of outlaw and of villain
I never did deserve: They raise my wonder. [Walks.
Dull that I was, not to find this before!
She took me for the captain of the robbers;
It must be so; I'll tell her her mistake.