_Alber_. Indeed his better part had not his source From thy corrupted vice-affecting hart, For vertue is the marke he aimeth at. _Duke_. I dare be sworne that _Sostrata_ would blush, Shouldst thou deny _Alenso_ for thy sonne. _Alen_. Nay, did she live, she would not challenge me To be the father of that haplesse sonne. _Turq_. Nay, then anon you will denie your selfe To be your selfe, unjust _Fallerio_. _Alen_. I do confesse my selfe to be my selfe, But will not answere to _Fallerio_. _Duke_. Not to _Fallerio_? this is excellent! You are the man was cal'd _Fallerio_. _Alen_. He never breathed yet that cal'd me so, Except he were deceiv'd as you are now. _Duke_. This impudence shall not excuse your fault; You are well knowne to be _Fallerio_, The wicked husband of dead _Sostrata_ And father to the vertuous _Alenso_; And even as sure as all these certeinties, Thou didst contrive thy little Nephewes death. _Alen_. True, for I am nor false _Fallerio_, Husband, nor father, as you do suggest, And therefore did not hire the murtherers; Which to be true acknowledge with your eyes. [_Puls off his disguise_. _Duke_. How now, my Lords! this is a myracle, To shake off thirtie yeares so sodeinlie And turne from feeble age to flourishing youth! _Alb_. But he my Lord that wrought this miracle, Is not of power to free himselfe from death, Through the performance of this suddaine change. _Duke_. No, were he the chiefest hope of Christendome, He should not live for this presumption: Use no excuse, _Alenso_, for thy life; My doome of death shall be irrevocable. _Alen_. Ill fare his soule that would extenuate The rigor of your life-confounding doome! I am prepar'd with all my hart to die, For thats th' end of humaine miserie. _Duke_. Then thus: you shall be hang'd immediately, For your illusion of the Magistrates With borrowed shapes of false antiquitie. _Alen_. Thrice-happy sentence, which I do imbrace With a more fervent and unfained zeale Then an ambicious rule-desiring man Would do a Iem-bedecked Diadem, Which brings more watchfull cares and discontent Then pompe or honor can remunerate. When I am dead, let it be said of me, _Alenso_ died to set his father free. _Fal_. That were a freedome worse than servitude To cruell Turke or damned Infidell. Most righteous Judge, I do appeale for Iustice, Justice on him that hath deserved death, Not on _Alenso_; he is innocent. _Alen_. But I am guiltie of abetting him, Contrarie to his Maiestie's Edict, And therefore death is meritorious. _Fall_. I am the wretch that did subborne the slaves, To murther poore _Pertillo_ in the wood. Spare, spare _Alenso_! he is innocent. _Duke_. What strange appeale is this! we know thee not: None but _Fallerio_ is accusde hereof. _Alen_. Then, father, get you hence, depart in time, Least being knowne you suffer for the crime.