+Ant.+ O sir, as the justices' clerk and the constable, when they share the crowns that drunkards pay to the poor. Pray, keep fair distance, and take no great strides. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Lorenzo+ and +Abstemia+, as in prison._ +Lor.+ Can then Abstemia forgive Lorenzo? +Abs.+ Yes, if Lorenzo can but love Abstemia, She can hang thus upon his neck, and call This prison true love's palace. +Lor.+ O, let kings Forget their crowns that know what 'tis to enjoy The wondrous wealth of one so good. Now Thou art lovely as young[172] spring, and comely As is the well-spread cedar; the fair fruit, Kiss'd by the sun so daily, that it wears The lovely blush of maids, seems but to mock Thy soul's integrity. Here let me fall, And with pleading sighs beg pardon. _Enter +Antonio+._ +Abs.+ Sir, it meets you, Like a glad pilgrim, whose desiring eye Longs for the long-wish'd altar of his vow. But you are far too prodigal in praise, And crown me with the garlands of your merit. As we meet barks on rivers, the strong gale (Being best friends to us), our own swift motion Makes us believe that t'other nimbler rows: Swift virtue thinks small goodness fastest goes. +Lor.+ Sorrow hath bravely sweeten'd thee! What are you? +Ant.+ A displeasant black cloud! though I appear dismal, I am wondrous fruitful. What cause soever Mov'd you to take this murder on yourself, Or you to strike yourself into the hazard For his redemption, 'tis to me a stranger! But I conceive you are both innocent. +Lor.+ As newborn virtue. I did accuse My innocence, to rid me of a life Look'd uglier than death upon an injury I had done this virtuous wife. +Abs.+ And I accus'd My innocence, to save the belov'd life Of my most noble husband. +Ant.+ Why, then, now 'twould grieve you Death should unkindly part ye. +Lor.+ O, but that, sir, We have no sorrow. Now to part from her, Since Heaven hath new-married and new-made us, I had rather leap into a den of lions, Snatch from a hungry bear her bleeding prey: I would attempt desperate impossibilities With hope, rather than now to leave her. +Ant.+ This makes for me. [_Aside._ +Abs.+ And rather than leave you, sir, I would eat Hot coals with Portia, or attempt a terror Nature would, snail-like, shrink her head in at, And tremble but to think on. +Ant.+ Better and better. [_Aside._ If you so love him, what can you conceive The greatest kindness can express that love? +Abs.+ To save his life, since there is no hope, Seeing he so strongly has confess'd the murder, We shall meet the happiness to die together.