Alm. But think not oaths shall justify thy charge,
Nor imprecations on thy cursed head;
For who dares lie to heaven, thinks heaven a jest.
Thou hast confessed thyself the conscious pandar
Of that pretended passion;
A single witness infamously known,
Against two persons of unquestioned fame.
Alv. What interest can I have, or what delight,
To blaze their shame, or to divulge my own?
If proved, you hate me; if unproved, condemn.
Not racks or tortures could have forced this secret,
But too much care to save you from a crime,
Which would have sunk you both. For, let me say,
Almeyda's beauty well deserves your love.
Alm. Out, base impostor! I abhor thy praise.
Dor. It looks not like imposture; but a truth,
On utmost need revealed.
Seb. Did I expect from Dorax this return?
Is this the love renewed?
Dor. Sir, I am silent;
Pray heaven my fears prove false!
Seb. Away! you all combine to make me wretched.
Alv. But hear the story of that fatal love,
Where every circumstance shall prove another;
And truth so shine by her own native light,
That, if a lie were mixt, it must be seen.
Seb. No; all may still be forged, and of a piece.
No; I can credit nothing thou canst say.
Alv. One proof remains, and that's your father's hand,
431 Firmed with his signet; both so fully known,
That plainer evidence can hardly be,
Unless his soul would want her heaven awhile,
And come on earth to swear.