_Coz._ Rise, and stand forth, then, And hear, with horror to your guilty souls, What we will prove against you. Could this princess, Thou enemy to thyself, [_To_ SANAZARRO.] stoop her high flight Of towering greatness to invite thy lowness To look up to it, and with nimble wings Of gratitude couldst thou forbear to meet it? Were her favours boundless in a noble way, And warranted by our allowance, yet, In thy acceptation, there appear'd no sign Of a modest thankfulness? _Fior._ Pray you, forbear To press that further; 'tis a fault we have Already heard, and pardon'd. _Coz._ We will then Pass over it, and briefly touch at that Which does concern ourself; in which both being Equal offenders, what we shall speak points Indifferently at either. How we raised thee, Forgetful Sanazarro! of our grace, To a full possession of power and honours, It being too well known, we'll not remember. And what thou wert, rash youth, in expectation, [_To_ GIOVANNI. And from which headlong thou hast thrown thyself, Not Florence, but all Tuscany, can witness With admiration. To assure thy hopes, We did keep constant to a widow'd bed, And did deny ourself those lawful pleasures Our absolute power and height of blood allow'd us; Made both, the keys that open'd our heart's secrets, And what you spake, believed as oracles: But you, in recompense of this, to him That gave you all, to whom you owed your being, With treacherous lies endeavour'd to conceal This jewel from our knowledge, which ourself Could only lay just claim to. _Giov._ 'Tis most true, sir. _Sanaz._ We both confess a guilty cause. _Coz._ Look on her. Is this a beauty fit to be embraced By any subject's arms? can any tire Become that forehead but a diadem? Or, should we grant your being false to us Could be excused, your treachery to her, In seeking to deprive her of that greatness (Her matchless worth consider'd) she was born to, Must ne'er find pardon. We have spoken, ladies, Like a rough orator, that brings more truth Than rhetoric to make good his accusation; And now expect your sentence. [_The Ladies descend from the state[93]._ _Lid._ In your birth, sir, You were mark'd out the judge of life and death, And we, that are your subjects, to attend, With trembling fear, your doom. _Fior._ We do resign This chair, as only proper to yourself. _Giov._ And, since injustice we are lost, we fly Unto your saving mercy. [_All kneeling._ _Sanaz._ Which sets off A prince much more than rigour. _Char._ And becomes him, When 'tis express'd to such as fell by weakness, That being a twin-born brother to affection, Better than wreaths of conquest. _Hier. Hip. Cont. Alph._ We all speak Their language, mighty sir.