+De C.+ I did but quit a sin, Which would have betray'd us both eternally, And bore so sad a shape of horror, As it affrighted all within me, and, like a frenzy, Held me, till I had purged it from my bosom. +Duke.+ Had thy revenge no other way but this, To undermine the virtue of nature against itself? My lords, there's forgery in't, poison, and treason! It did amaze my innocence. Sounds, that my blood Do shiver at. And did not I see his father's treason Blush yet upon his brow, I should not think Castile infected with the thought. +1st Judge.+ My Lord De Castro, What proof or circumstance have you to urge This clearer to his highness? +Duke.+ Grave patriots of the law, Give me your leave in this, that would blemish The honour of my fame for ever. Let him produce but any That may accuse me to your reverend judgments, And Bereo will lay down his head to the block. But I know your wisdoms will discern a plot in't: And how far he stands incompetent against me In faith and honour. +King.+ What say you, my lord? +De C.+ Sir, what I have told your Majesty--my life Shall make good on my torture: my brother being dead, Heaven only and my conscience can clear it: And to quit my innocence of malice, your own conscience Must tell you, my lord, that when first you used my brother To ensnare me, and press'd it in the duchess's garden, How much I argued to divert you; but then-- +Duke.+ My lords, I desire justice and reparation On the villain. +2d Judge.+ My Lord. De Castro, The king has pleased to give us your relation, In which (though the least tenderness cannot be Impertinent to his sacred safety) there's nothing That can raise the law to any argument, which may reach The Duke, scarce as a peer, which looks upon him As the second man in whom all our safeties and hopes are stor'd: Not to be touch'd with every jealousy, But at a high and reverend form of proof. +Duke.+ Let me appeal unto yourself, dread sir; Which of my actions or services of state Can be suspected? And do you not perceive That where his father left, his treason would begin? +De C.+ Help me, dear truth, or else I shall suffer For my loyalty. Great sir, be pleased---- +Duke.+ That most judicious judge has well observ'd, There is an envy in his soul would reach From you to your succession, and leave the character Of his father's treason on it in blood and ruin. Wretched man, trust me, I grieve for thy slidefrom piety; And when I look upon the love and pity I have cast away on such a thing, I repent My easy faith. Good heaven! what will men fall to?