+Phil.+ The foundation-work is mine, And that I answer: he builds on truth, The good man's mistress, and not in the sanctuary Of this injur'd brother's power, but the integrity And glory of the cause. I throw the pawn Of my afflicted honour, and on that I openly affirm your absent lady Chastity's well-knit abstract: snow in the fall, Purely refin'd by the bleak northern blast, Not freer from a soil; the thoughts of infants But little nearer heaven: and if these princes Please to permit, before their guilty thoughts Injure another hour upon the lady, My right-drawn sword shall prove it. +Lor.+ Upon my knee, sir, (How my soul dances!) humbly I entreat Your grant to his request: fight with Philippo I' th' midst of flame or pestilence; in a cave, Where basilisks do breed. +Ver.+ We must take counsel: The price of blood is precious. +Lor.+ Blood desires burthen: The price of truth is precious. For all the fights I have fought for you on land: the feats[138] at sea, Where I have tugg'd with tempests, stood storms at midnight, Out-star'd the flaring lightning, and the next morning Chas'd the unruly stubborn Turk with thunder; For all the bullets I have bravely shot, And sent death singing to the slaughter, sir---- +Ver.+ Peace! +Lor.+ What should a soldier do with peace? remember Mine honour lies a-bleeding, and in mine yours; Her wide wound inward bleeds; and while you cry peace, Shame wars upon my name. O, rather kill me, Than cast me to this scandal! +Spin.+ The doubtful cause, With such a dare approv'd, you may permit it. +Ver.+ Your request is granted, coz. +Lor.+ You have now, sir, breath'd Fresh air in the face of fainting honour. Rapiers of fair equality. +Ven.+[139] Look with what cunning The spider, when she would snare the fly, doth weave With neater art appearance [to] deceive. Stay!--as you said, sir, blood is a precious price: Let me but see the men produc'd who swore They saw them in the shameful act, and then Farewell a sister and her honour. +Pan.+ Produce your servants, sir. [_+Venice+ sends off a Lord._ +Lor.+ Plague of this change! here's one of them; the t'other, In that I threaten'd him for some neglect, The next day ran away. +Ven.+ Did you, sir, swear You saw our sister and this gentleman In this base act of sin? +Lor.+ Fear nothing. +1st Slave.+ To deny truth Is more dangerous than to displease a duke. I saw it, and did swear it. _Enter +Lord+, and +2d Slave+._ +Ven.+ But here comes one Will swear you saw it not, and are forsworn. +1st Slave.+ 'Sfoot, Stratzo! +Spin.+ This is the other fellow took his oath. +Ver.+ What come you here to say, sir?