JULIO. O, that I might your majesty entreat With clemency to beautify your seat Toward this prince, distress'd by his desires, Too many, all too strong to captivate. TANCRED. "This is the soundest safety for a king, To cut them off, that vex or hinder him." JULIO. "This have I found the safety of a king, To spare the subjects that do honour him." TANCRED. Have we been honour'd by this lecher's lust? JULIO. No, but by his devout submission. TANCRED. Our fortune says we must do what we may. JULIO. "This is praise-worth, not to do what you may." TANCRED. And may the subject countermand the king? JULIO. No, but entreat him. TANCRED. What he shall decree? JULIO. What wisdom shall discern. TANCRED. Nay, what our word Shall best determine. We will not reply. Thou know'st our mind: our heart cannot be eas'd, But with the slaughter of this Palurin. [The KING hasteth into his palace. GUISCARD. O thou great god, who from thy highest throne Hast stooped down, and felt the force of love, Bend gentle ears unto the woful moan Of me poor wretch, to grant that I require! Help to persuade the same great god, that he So far remit his might, and slack his fire From my dear lady's kindled heart, that she May hear my death without her hurt. Let not Her face, wherein there is as clear a light As in the rising moon: let not her cheeks, As red as is the party-colour'd rose, Be paled with the news hereof: and so I yield myself, my seely soul and all, To him, for her, for whom my death shall show I liv'd; and as I liv'd, I died her thrall. Grant this, thou Thunderer: this shall suffice, My breath to vanish in the liquid skies. [GUISCARD _is led to prison_. CHORUS 1. Who doth not know the fruits of Paris' love, Nor understand the end of Helen's joy? He may behold the fatal overthrow Of Priam's house and of the town of Troy-- His death at last and her eternal shame; For whom so many noble knights were slain. So many a duke, so many a prince of fame Bereft his life, and left there in the plain. Medea's armed hand, Eliza's sword, Wretched Leander drenched in the flood. Phillis, so long that waited for her lord: All these too dearly bought their loves with blood. CHORUS 2. But he in virtue that his lady serves. Ne wills but what unto her honour 'longs, He never from the rule of reason swerves; He feeleth not the pangs ne raging throngs Of blind Cupid: he lives not in despair, As done his servants; neither spends his days In joy and care, vain hope and throbbing fear: But seeks alway what may his sovereign please In honour: he that thus serves, reaps the fruit Of his sweet service; and no jealous dread, Nor base suspect of aught to let his suit, Which causeth oft the lover's heart to bleed, Doth fret his mind, or burneth in his breast: He waileth not by day, nor wakes by night, When every other living thing doth rest; Nor finds his life or death within her sight.