_Lat._ He shall eat gold If he will have it, so shall you all; there's that Amongst you first, let me have this to send The Duke in the mean time; and then what sights You please to shew; I'le have you so rewarded As never Artists were, you shall to Court Along with me, and there wait you[r] fortunes. _Bub._ We have a pretty part of't in our pockets; Boy we will all be new, you shall along too. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Sophia, Matilda, _and_ Edith. _Mat._ Good Madam, hear the suit that _Edith_ urges, With such submiss beseeches; nor remain So strictly bound to sorrow for your son, That nothing else, though never so befitting, Obtains your ears, or observation. _Sop._ What would she say? I hear. _Edith._ My suit is, Madam, That you would please to think as well of justice Due to your sons revenge, as of more wrong added To both your selves for it, in only grieving. Th' undaunted power of Princes should not be Confin'd in deedless cold calamity; Anger, the Twin of sorrow, in your wrongs Should not be smother'd, when his right of birth Claims th' Air as well, and force of coming forth. _Sop._ Sorrow is due already, anger never Should be conceived but where it may [be] born In some fact fit t'employ his active flame, That else consumes who bears it, and abides Like a false star that quenches as it glides. _Ed._ I have such means t'employ it as your wish Can think no better, easier, or securer; And such as but th' honours I intend To your partakings, I alone could end: But your parts in all dues to crying blood For vengeance in the shedder, are much greater: And therefore should work your hands to his slaughter. For your consent to which, 'twere infinite wrong To your severe and most impartial justice, To move you to forget so false a son As with a Mothers duty made you curse him. _Mat._ _Edith_, he is forgot, for any son Born of my Mother, or to me a Brother. For should we still perform our rights to him We should partake his wrongs, and as foul be In blood and damned parricide as he. And therefore tell the happy means that Heaven Puts in thy hand, for all our long'd for freedom From so abhorr'd and impious a monster. _Sop._ Tell what she will, I'le lend nor hand nor ear To whatsoever Heaven puts in her power. [_Exit_ Sophia. _Mat._ How strange she is to what she chiefly wishes! Sweet _Edith_ be not any thought the more Discourag'd in thy purpose, but assured, Her heart and prayers are thine; and that we two Shall be enough to all we wish to do.