Fran. Nothing! what's that?
Clown. Nothing, before I had something, I mean. So you are well-returned from Utopia.
Fran. You're very nimble, sir: good-morrow. [Exeunt.
A bar set out. Enter the Duke of Verona, Pandulpho, Spinoso, Jaspro, Jovani, Lorenzo, Philippo, Abstemia, a guard and two slaves.
Ver. Call the accus'd to th' bar.
Phil. We appear
With acknowledg'd reverence to the presence.
Ver. We meet not
To build on circumstances, but to come plainly
To the business that here plac'd us. Cousin Lorenzo,
You have free leave to speak your griefs; but this
Desire the senate to observe, and nearly:
I come here not your kinsman; neither, madam,
Looking unto the greatness of your blood,
As you are sister to the Duke of Venice;
But as an equal judge, I come to doom,
As circumstance[129] and proof informs.
Lor. Thus then,
(Great sir, grave lords, and honourable auditors
Of my dishonour) I affirm 'tis known
To th' signory of Verona, the whole city;
Nay, the great multitude without, that come
This day to hear unwilling truth, can witness,
How, since my marriage with that woman—weep'st thou?
O truth, who would not look thee in a woman's tears!
But showers that fall too late, produce dear years—
All know that, since our marriage, I have perform'd
So fairly all judicial wedlock-offices,
That malice knew not how at my whole actions
To make one blow, and to strike home. I did rather
Honour her as a saint, sir, than respect her,
As she was my wife. On pilgrimage I sent
All my endeavours to the fair-seeming shrine
Of their desires, where they did offer daily
A plenal satisfaction, which she seem'd
Reciprocally to return, paid back
As much obedience as I lent of love:
But then the serpent stings, when like a dove
Opinion feathers him: women's sweet words
As far are from their hearts, though from their breasts
They fly, as lapwings' cries are from their nests.
Lor. I would appear no satire.
And for this man (how fain I would call him friend!)
I appeal to the whole state, if at the fight
Betwixt Biserta galleys and your grace,
Wherein you pleas'd to send me general there,
That he deserv'd (let me not take from him
His merit's meet confession) but I was there,
The man (the erring man) that crown'd his merit
With approbation and reward; brought him home,
Preferr'd him to those graces you heap'd on him:
Wore him a neighbour to my heart, as lovers
Wear jewels, left by their dead friends. I lock'd him
Into my heart, and double-barr'd him there
With reason and opinion: his extremities
Fasten'd me more unto him, whilst, like an arch
Well-built, by how much the more weight I bore,
I stood[130] the stronger under him; so lov'd him,
That in his absence still mine ear became
A sanctuary to his injur'd name.