_Cat_. Indeed, you much mistake me; as I live, As I hope mercy & for after life, I come for nothing but to offer thankes Unto your goodnes, by whose manly temper My lord and husband reassum'd his life; And aske your Christian pardon for the wrong Which by your suffering now pleads him guilty. Good sir, let no mistrust of my iust purpose Crosse your affection: did you know my love To honour and to honest actions, You would not then reiect my gratulations. And since that deeds doe best declare our meaning, I pray accept of this, This money and these clothes and my request Unto your keeper for best meats and wines That are agreable to your health and taste. And, honest frend, thou knowst and darest, I hope, Believe me I will see thee payd for all. _Jay_. Yes, my good Lady.--Loe you, sir, you see Still how my care provides your good: you may Suppose the Governours humanity Takes care for you in this, too. _Pike_. Excellent Ladye I doe now beleive Virtue and weomen are growne frends againe. _Enter Don John_. _Jo_. What magicall Illusion's this? 'tis she! Confusion seize your charitable blindnesse! Are you a prison visiter for this, To cherish my dishonour for your merit? _Cat_. My lord, I hope my Charity workes for your honour, Releiving him whose mercy spard your life. _Jo_. But that I'me subiect to the law & know My blowes are mortall, I would strike thee dead. Ignoble & degenerate from Spanish bloud, Darst thou maintaine this to be charity? Thy strumpett itch & treason to my bed Thou seekst to act in cherishing this villaine. _Cat_. Saints be my witnesses you doe me wrong! _Jo_. Thou robbst my honour. _Pike_. You wound her honour and you robb yourselfe, And me and all good Christians, by this outrage. _Jo_. Doe you prate, sir? _Pike_. Sir, I may speake; my tongue's unshackled yet, And, were my hands and feete so, on free ground I would mayntayne the honour of this Lady Against an Hoast of such ignoble husbands. _Jo_. You are condemnd allready by the Law I make no doubt; and therefore speake your pleasure. --And here come those fore whom my rage is silent. _Enter Ferdinando, Teniente, Guard_. _Fer_. Deliver up your prisoner to the _Teniente_. I need not, sir, instruct you in your place To beare him with a guard as is appointed Unto the publicke tryall held at _Sherrys_. _Ten_. It shalbe done. _Fer_. How long hath he bene your prisoner? _Jay_. 18 days. _Fer_. You & the Surgeons out of the Kings pay Ile see dischargd.--You have, according to the Order, Conveyd already _Bustamente_ thither To yeild account for yeilding up the Castle? _Ten_. 'Tis done, my Lord. _Fer_. _Don John_, you likewise in his Maiesties name Stand chargd to make your personall appearance To give in evidence against this prisoner. _Jo_. I shall be ready there, my Lord. _Pike_. To _Sherrys_? they say the best sackes there. I meane to take one draught of dying comfort. _Cat_. I hope you'le not deny my company To waite on you to _Sherris_?