Bau. Why, sir, my Lord Nouall
Being the accuser, cannot be the Iudge,
Nor would grieue Rochfort, but Lord Charaloys
(Howeuer he might wrong him by his power,)
Should haue an equall hearing.
Rom. By my hopes [20]
Of Charaloys acquitall, I lament
That reuerent old mans fortune.
Bau. Had you seene him,
As to my griefe I haue now promis’d patience,
And ere it was beleeu’d, though spake by him
That neuer brake his word, inrag’d againe [25]
So far as to make warre vpon those heires
Which not a barbarous Sythian durst presume
To touch, but with a superstitious feare,
As something sacred, and then curse his daughter,
But with more frequent violence himselfe, [30]
As if he had bin guilty of her fault,
By being incredulous of your report,
You would not onely iudge him worrhy pitty,
But suffer with him.
Enter Charalois, with Officers.
But heere comes the prisoner,
I dare not stay to doe my duty to him, [35]
Yet rest assur’d, all possible meanes in me
To doe him seruice, keepes you company.
Exit Bau.
Rom. It is not doubted.
Cha. Why, yet as I came hither,
The people apt to mocke calamity,
And tread on the oppress’d, made no hornes at me, [40]
Though they are too familiar: I deserue them.
And knowing what blood my sword hath drunke
In wreake of that disgrace, they yet forbare
To shake their heads, or to reuile me for
A murtherer, they rather all put on [45]
(As for great losses the old Romans vs’d)
A generall face of sorrow, waighted on
By a sad murmur breaking through their silence,
And no eye but was readier with a teare
To witnesse ’twas shed for me, then I could [50]
Discerne a face made vp with scorne against me.
Why should I then, though for vnusuall wrongs,
I chose vnusuall meanes to right those wrongs,
Condemne my selfe, as over-partiall
In my owne cause Romont?
Rom. Best friend, well met, [55]
By my heart’s loue to you, and ioyne to that,
My thankfulness that still liues to the dead,
I looke upon you now with more true ioy,
Than when I saw you married.
Cha. You have reason
To give you warrant for’t; my falling off [60]
From such a friendship with the scorne that answered
Your too propheticke counsell, may well moue you
To thinke your meeting me going to my death,
A fit encounter for that hate which iustly
I have deseru’d from you.