Ped. I cannot speak,
But I bow down these miserable gray hairs
To other arbitration than the sword;
Ev’n to your Highness’ justice.
Prince. Be it so.
Meanwhile—
Juan. Meanwhile, my lord, let me depart;
Free, if you will, or not. But let me go,
Nor wound these fathers with the sight of one,
Who has cut off the blossom of their age: