_Vit._ I hope not If justice be my Pilot: but my Lord, You know, if argument, or time, or love, Could reconcile, long since we had shook hands; I dare protest, your breath cools not a vein In any one of us, but blows the fire Which nought but blood reciprocal can quench. _Alv. Vitelli_, thou sayst bravely, and sayst right, And I will kill thee for't, I love thee so. _Vit._ Ha, ha, old man: upon thy death I'll build A story (with this arm) for thy old wife To tell thy daughter _Clara_ seven years hence As she sits weeping by a winters fire, How such a time _Vitelli_ slew her husband With the same Sword his daughter favor'd him, And lives, and wears it yet: Come _Lamorall_, Redeem thy self. _Lam. Lucio, Genevora_ Shall on this Sword receive thy bleeding heart, For my presented hat, laid at her feet. _Luc._ Thou talk'st well _Lamorall_, but 'tis thy head That I will carry to her to thy hat: Fie Father, I do cool too much. _Alv._ Oh boy: Thy fathers true Son: Beat Drums,--and so good morrow to your Lordship. _Enter above_ Eugenia, Clara, Genevora. _Say._ Brave resolutions. _Anast._ Brave, and Spanish right. _Gen. Lucio._ _Cla. Vitelli._ _Eug. Alvarez._ _Alv._ How the devil Got these Cats into th'gutter? my pusse too? _Eug._ Hear us. _Gen._ We must be heard. _Cla._ We will be heard _Vitelli_, look, see _Clara_ on her knees Imploring thy compassion: Heaven, how sternly They dart their emulous eyes, as if each scorn'd To be behind the other in a look! Mother, death needs no Sword here: oh my Sister (Fate fain would have it so) persuade, entreat, A Ladies tears are silent Orators (Or should be so at least) to move beyond The honest tongu'd-Rhetorician: Why will you fight? why do's an uncles death Twenty year old, exceed your love to me But twenty days? whose forc'd cause, and fair manner You could not understand, only have heard. Custom, that wrought so cunningly on nature In me, that I forgot my sex, and knew not Whether my body female were, or male, You did unweave, and had the power to charm A new creation in me, made me fear To think on those deeds I did perpetrate, How little power though you allow to me That cannot with my sighs, my tears, my prayers Move you from your own loss, if you should gain.