_Mac_. Lady, what say you? which had you rather have, His life or him? _Ele_. I am not cruell; pay me my first Bond Of marriage, which you seald to, & I free you And shall with Joy run flying to your armes. _All_. Law you?[53] _Mac_. That's easy enough. _Hen_. Rackes, Gibbetts, wheeles make sausages of my flesh first! Ile be ty'd to no man's Strumpet. _Alq_. Then you muste look to dye. _Mac_. Lady, withdraw. _Hen_. Well, if I doe, somebody shall packe. _Ele_. Oh me, unfortunate Creature! [_Exit_. _Enter Manuell to be rackt; Jaylour & Officers_. _Med_. _Don Manuell Guzman_ ere you taste the tortures, Which you are sure to feele, will you confesse This murther of your father? _Man_. Pray, give me privacy a little with my brother. _All_. [_Alq_.?] Take it. _Man_. O brother your owne Conscience knowes you wrong me: Ile rather suffer on the Gallow Tree Then thus be torne in pieces. Canst thou see mee Thus worryed amongst hangmen? deare _Henrico_, For heavens sake, for thine owne sake pitty mee. _All_. [_Alq_.?] What sayes he? _Hen_. Cunning, cunning, cunning Traytour! In my eare he confesses all again and prayes me To speake to you. _Mac_. Will you openly confesse? _Man_. No, no, I cannot. Caytiffe, I spake not soe: I must not wound my Conscience to lay on it A guilt it knowes not. Ile not so dishonour My father, nor my ancestours before me, Nor my posterity with such an earthquake To shake our noble house. _Mac_. Give him the Law then. _Man_. Ile meete a thousand deaths first. _Hen_. Plucke, & plucke home, for he's a murtherous Villaine. _Man_. Thou worse, a divell. _Mac_. Racke him! _Man_. Oh stay! for heavens sake spread your mercy! I doe confesse the murther; I killd my father. _All_. Take him off! _Man_. This hand stabbd him. _Mac_. Where? _Man_. Neere _St. Germains_ In _Paris_, in a darke night, & then I fled. _Mac_. Thy owne tongue is thy Judge; take him away: To-morrow looke to dye: send him a Confessour. _Jay_. Ile have a holy care of him. [_Exit Manuell, led by the Jaylour_. _Hen_. Who's now, my lords, the Villaine? _Enter Eleonora & Buzzano_. _Ele_. Oh Justice, here's a witnesse of my Rape. _Mac_. Did you see't, sirra? _Buz_. See't! no, sir, would I had; but when she was in labour I heard her cry out "helpe! helpe!" & the Gamboll being ended she came in like a mad woman, ruffled & crumpled, her haire about her eares; & he all unbrac'd, sweating as if he had bene thrashing; & afterwards he told me, my lords, that he had downe diddled her. _Hen_. I now am lost indeed, & on my knee Beg pardon of that goodnes, that pure Temple Which my base lust prophand, & will make good My wrongs to her by marriage. _Mac_. What say you, Lady? _Ele_. He spurnd my mercy when it flew to him And courted him to kisse it; therefore now Ile have his life. _Fer_. That life, so had, redeemes Thine & thy fathers infamy. Justice! my Lords.