Pan. He says, besides
The honour of Philippo, he has proof
So unresistible to affirm the plot
Of Count Lorenzo, that he only crav'd
(Hostages being render'd for their safe returns)
Here in the senate-chamber the fair trial
Might publicly be censur'd. And by this
They are at hand.
Enter at one door Duke of Venice, Philippo, and Lords: at the other, Duke of Verona, Jaspro, Jovani; Lorenzo guarded. A bar set out. The 1st Slave.
Ver. Fair sir, the presence is levell'd for your grievances.
Ven. First summon to the bar the Count Lorenzo.
Pan. Lorenzo Medico, stand to the bar.
Lor. I do stand to the bar.
Ven. I come not here, witness the good man's comfort,
To add one step unto my territories; and though I burden
The neighbour-bosom of my confines with
The weight of armour, or do wound your breast
(My dukedom's near next neighbour) with the hoofs
Of war-apparell'd horses, 'tis not to seek
For martial honours, but for civil justice.
Conceive mine honour wounded: a sister's shame
Is an unpleasant spot upon our arms;
Yet that we come not here to sanctify
A sister's sin; for if she be so prov'd,
Shame sleep within her epitaph, and brand her;
Let bears and wolves that angel's face confound,
Gives goodness such a foul, unfriendly wound:
But if she chaste be prov'd, what balm can cure
A wounded name? As he that not inflicts
The bitter stroke of law upon the strumpet
Fattens the sad afflictions of a thousand;
So who but stains an honest woman's name
Plagues are yet kept for him: steel is no defence
For the unclean tongue injures innocence.
I affirm my sister wrong'd, wrong'd by this man—
This, that has wrong'd pure judgment, and thrown poison
Upon the face of truth; and upon him
I seek a satisfaction.
Lor. I reply,
The law must give you satisfaction,
That justly did divorce us: I appeal
To the whole consiliadory, if equal law
In her progression went a step astray,
Either by proof or information.
Let the duke speak (not as he is my kinsman)
If I produc'd not legally in court,
Besides mine own assertion, which even reason
Grounded on probability, two of my servants,
That upon oath affirm'd they saw your sister
Even in the very act of sin and shame
With that Philippo there. Blame me not then, sir,
If I return an error to your cause.
Reason, the base whereon we build the laws
You injure in this action, gives her the lie.
Who dares not build his faith upon his eye?
They swore what they did see; and men still fear
(Reason concludes) what they not see, to swear.
Ver. You hear my kinsman's answer?
Pan. And 'tis requisite
That you produce your author: it is held
Mere madness on a hill of sand to build.