_Gasp._ I must tell you In private, as you are my princely friend, I do not like such fiddlers. _Bert._ No! they are useful For your imitation; I remember you, When you came first to the court, and talk'd of nothing But your rents and your entradas[141], ever chiming The golden bells in your pockets; you believed The taking of the wall as a tribute due to Your gaudy clothes; and could not walk at midnight Without a causeless quarrel, as if men Of coarser outsides were in duty bound To suffer your affronts: but, when you had been Cudgell'd well twice or thrice, and from the doctrine Made profitable uses, you concluded, The sovereign means to teach irregular heirs Civility, with conformity of manners, Were two or three sound beatings. _Ant._ I confess They did much good upon me. _Gasp._ And on me: The principles that they read were sound. _Bert._ You'll find The like instructions in the camp. _Ast._ The king! _A flourish. Enter_ ROBERTO, FULGENTIO, _Ambassador, and Attendants_. _Rob._ [_ascends the throne._] We sit prepared to hear. _Amb._ Your majesty Hath been long since familiar, I doubt not, With the desperate fortunes of my lord; and pity Of the much that your confederate hath suffer'd, You being his last refuge, may persuade you Not alone to compassionate, but to lend Your royal aids to stay him in his fall To certain ruin. He, too late, is conscious That his ambition to encroach upon His neighbour's territories, with the danger of His liberty, nay, his life, hath brought in question His own inheritance: but youth, and heat Of blood, in your interpretation, may Both plead and mediate for him. I must grant it An error in him, being denied the favours Of the fair princess of Sienna, (though He sought her in a noble way,) to endeavour To force affection by surprisal of Her principal seat, Sienna. _Rob._ Which now proves The seat of his captivity, not triumph: Heaven is still just. _Amb._ And yet that justice is To be with mercy temper'd, which heaven's deputies Stand bound to minister. The injured duchess, By reason taught, as nature, could not, with The reparation of her wrongs, but aim at A brave revenge; and my lord feels, too late, That innocence will find friends. The great Gonzaga, The honour of his order, (I must praise Virtue, though in an enemy,) he whose fights And conquests hold one number, rallying up Her scatter'd troops, before we could get time To victual or to man the conquer'd city, Sat down before it; and presuming that 'Tis not to be relieved, admits no parley, Our flags of truce hung out in vain: nor will he Lend an ear to composition, but exacts, With the rendering up the town, the goods and lives Of all within the walls, and of all sexes, To be at his discretion.