_Ang_. Sir, let not passion so far transport you, as to think in reason, this violent course repairs, but ruins it; that honour you would build up, you destroy; what you would seem to nourish, if respect of my preferment or my pattern may challenge your paternal love and care, why do you, now good fortune has provided a better Husband for me than your hopes could ever fancy, strive to rob me of him? In what is my Lord _Charles_ defective, Sir? unless deep Learning be a blemish in him, or well proportion'd limbs be mulcts in nature, or, what you only aim'd at, large Revenues, are, on the sudden, grown distasteful to you. Of what can you accuse him? _Lew_. Of a Rape done to Honour, which thy ravenous lust made thee consent to. _Syl_. Her lust! you are her Father. _Lew_. And you her Bawd. _Syl_. Were you ten Lords, 'tis false; the pureness of her chaste thoughts entertains not such spotted instruments. _Ang_. As I have a Soul, Sir. _Lew_. I am not to be alter'd; to sit down with this disgrace, would argue me a Peasant, and not born Noble: all rigour that the Law, and that increase of power by favour yields, shall be with all severity inflicted; you have the King's hand for't, no Bail will serve, and therefore at your perils, Officers, away with 'em. _Bri_. This is madness. _Lew_. Tell me so in open Court, and there I'le answer you. _Enter_ Miramont, Charles, Eustace, Andrew. _Mir_. Well overtaken. _Char_. Ill if they dare resist. _Eust_. He that advances but one step forward dies. _Lew_. Shew the King's Writ. _Mir_. Shew your discretion, 'twill become you better. _Char_. Y'are once more in my power, and if again I part with you, let me for ever lose thee. _Eust_. Force will not do't, nor threats; accept this service from your despair'd of _Eustace_. _And_. And beware your Reverend Worship never more attempt to search my _Lilly pot_, you see what follows. _Lew_. Is the King's power contemn'd? _Mir_. No, but the torrent o' your wilful folly stopp'd. And for you, good Sir, if you would but be sensible, what can you wish, but the satisfaction of an obstinate will, that is not endear'd to you? rather than be cross'd in what you purpos'd, you'll undo your Daughter's fame, the credit of your judgment, and your old foolish Neighbour; make your Estates, and in a Suit not worth a Cardecue, a prey to Advocates, and their buckram Scribes, and after they have plum'd ye, return home like a couple of naked Fowles without a feather. _Char_. This is a most strong truth, Sir.