_Clar._ I am confident, so dearly I honour'd my dead Lord, that no respect, Or of my Ladies bounties (which were great ones I must confess) nor of her former life, For while that she was chast, indeed I lov'd her, Shall hinder me from lending my assistance Unto your just revenge--mine own I mean, [_Aside._ If _Leon_ keep far off enough, all's secure: _Lisander_ dares not come in, modest blushes Parted with me long since, and impudence Arm'd with my hate, unto her innocence shall be The weapon I will fight with now. _Ber._ The rack Being presented to you, you'l roar out What you conceal yet. _Mal._ Conceal? I know nothing But that I shall be hang'd, and that I look for, It is my destiny, I ever had A hanging look; and a wise woman told me, Though I had not the heart to do a deed Worthy the halter, in my youth or age, I should take a turn with a wry mouth, and now 'Tis come about: I have pen'd mine own ballad Before my condemnation, in fear Some rimer should prevent me: here's my Lady? Would I were in heaven, or a thousand miles hence, That I might not blush to look on her. _Enter_ Dorilaus, Calista, Olinda. _Dor._ You behold this preparation, and the enemies Who are to fight against your life, yet if You bring no witness here, that may convince ye Of breach of faith to your Lords bed, and hold up Unspotted hands before the King, this tryal You are to undergo, will but refine, And not consume your honour. _Cal._ How confirm'd I am here, whatsoever Fate falls on me, You shall have ample testimony; till the death Of my dear Lord, to whose sad memory I pay a mourning widows tears, I liv'd Too happy in my holy-day trim of glorie, And courted with felicitie, that drew on me, With other helps of nature, as of fortune, The envie, not the love of most that knew me, This made me to presume too much, perhaps Too proud; but I am humbled; and if now I do make it apparent, I can bear Adversity with such a constant patience As will set off my innocence, I hope Sir, In your declining age, when I should live A comfort to you, you shall have no cause, How e're I stand accus'd, to hold your honour Ship-wrack'd in such a Daughter. _Oli._ O best friend, my honour's at the stake too, for-- _Dor._ Be silent; the King. _Enter King,_ Lemure, _and Attendants._ _Lem._ Sir, if you please to look upon The Prisoner, and the many services Her Father hath done for you--