_Enter Servant._ _Serv._ Two Gentlemen (but what they are I know not, Their faces are so muffl'd) press to see you, And will not be deny'd. _Dor._ What e'r they are, I am too old to fear. _Serv._ They need no Usher, they make their own way. _Enter_ Lisander, Alcidon. _Dor._ Take you yours, _Lisander_; [_Exit Servant._ My joy to see you, and my sorrow for The danger you are in, contend so here, Though different passions, nay oppos'd in Nature, I know not which to entertain. _Lis._ Your hate should win the victory from both, with justice, You may look on me as a Homicide, A man whose life is forfeited to the Law, But if (howe'r I stand accus'd) in thought I sin'd against _Cleanders_ life, or live Guilty of the dishonour of your Daughter, May all the miseries that can fall on man Here, or hereafter, circle me. _Dor._ To me this protestation's useless, I embrace you, As the preserver of my life, the man To whom my son ows his, with life, his honour, And howsoever your affection To my unhappy Daughter, though it were (For I have sifted her) in a noble way, Hath printed some taint on her fame, and brought Her life in question, yet I would not purchase The wish'd recovery of her reputation, With strong assurance of her innocence Before the King her Judge, with certain loss Of my _Lisander_, for whose life, if found, There's no redemption; my excess of love, (Though to enjoy you one short day would lengthen My life a dozen years) boldly commands me, Upon my knees, which yet were never bent, But to the King and Heaven, to entreat you To flye hence with all possible speed, and leave _Calista_ to her fortune. _Lis._ O blessed Saints, forsake her in affliction? can you Be so unnatural to your own bloud, To one so well deserving, as to value My safety before hers? shall innocence In her be branded, and my guilt escape Unpunish'd? does she suffer so much for me, For me unworthy, and shall I decline (Eating the bitter bread of banishment) The course of Justice to draw out a life? (A life? I style it false, a living death) Which being uncompell'd, laid down will clear her, And write her name anew in the fair legend Of the best women? seek not to disswade me, I will not, like a careless Poet, spoil The last Act of my Play, till now applauded, By giving the World just cause to say, I fear'd Death more than loss of Honour. _Dor._ But suppose Heaven hath design'd some Other saving means for her deliverance?