_Bau._ The same 15 _Rom._ How fortunes that? _Bau._ Why, sir, my Lord _Nouall_ Being the accuser, cannot be the Iudge, Nor would grieue _Rochfort_, but Lord _Charaloys_ (Howeuer he might wrong him by his power,) Should haue an equall hearing. _Rom._ By my hopes 20 Of _Charaloys_ acquitall, I lament That reuerent old mans fortune. _Bau._ Had you seene him, As to my griefe I haue now promis’d patience, And ere it was beleeu’d, though spake by him That neuer brake his word, inrag’d againe 25 So far as to make warre vpon those heires Which not a barbarous Sythian durst presume To touch, but with a superstitious feare, As something sacred, and then curse his daughter, But with more frequent violence himselfe, 30 As if he had bin guilty of her fault, By being incredulous of your report, You would not onely iudge him worrhy pitty, But suffer with him. _Enter Charalois, with Officers._ But heere comes the prisoner, I dare not stay to doe my duty to him, 35 Yet rest assur’d, all possible meanes in me To doe him seruice, keepes you company. _Exit Bau._ _Rom._ It is not doubted. _Cha._ Why, yet as I came hither, The people apt to mocke calamity, And tread on the oppress’d, made no hornes at me, 40 Though they are too familiar: I deserue them. And knowing what blood my sword hath drunke In wreake of that disgrace, they yet forbare To shake their heads, or to reuile me for A murtherer, they rather all put on 45 (As for great losses the old _Romans_ vs’d) A generall face of sorrow, waighted on By a sad murmur breaking through their silence, And no eye but was readier with a teare To witnesse ’twas shed for me, then I could 50 Discerne a face made vp with scorne against me. Why should I then, though for vnusuall wrongs, I chose vnusuall meanes to right those wrongs, Condemne my selfe, as over-partiall In my owne cause Romont? _Rom._ Best friend, well met, 55 By my heart’s loue to you, and ioyne to that, My thankfulness that still liues to the dead, I looke upon you now with more true ioy, Than when I saw you married. _Cha._ You have reason To give you warrant for’t; my falling off 60 From such a friendship with the scorne that answered Your too propheticke counsell, may well moue you To thinke your meeting me going to my death, A fit encounter for that hate which iustly I have deseru’d from you. _Rom._ Shall I still then 65 Speake truth, and be ill vnderstood?