_Aurel._ But for these aids from Sicily sent against us, To blast our spring of conquest in the bud; I cannot find, my lord ambassador, How we should entertain 't but as a wrong, With purpose to detain us from our own, Howe'er the king endeavours, in his letters, To mitigate the affront. _Ast._ Your grace hereafter May hear from me such strong assurances Of his unlimited desires to serve you, As will, I hope, drown in forgetfulness The memory of what's past. _Aurel._ We shall take time To search the depth of 't further, and proceed As our council shall direct us. _Gonz._ We present you With the keys of the city; all lets are removed, Your way is smooth and easy; at your feet Your proudest enemy falls. _Aurel._ We thank your valours: A victory without blood is twice achieved, And the disposure of it, to us tender'd, The greatest honour. Worthy captains, thanks! My love extends itself to all. _Gonz._ Make way there. [_A Guard drawn up_; AURELIA _passes through them_. _Loud music._ [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Sienna. A Room in the Prison._ BERTOLDO _is discovered in fetters, reading_. _Bert._ 'Tis here determined, (great examples, arm'd With arguments, produced to make it good,) That neither tyrants, nor the wrested laws, The people's frantic rage, sad exile, want, Nor that which I endure, captivity, Can do a wise man any injury. Thus Seneca, when he wrote it, thought.--But then Felicity courted him; his wealth exceeding A private man's; happy in the embraces Of his chaste wife Paulina; his house full Of children, clients, servants, flattering friends, Soothing his lip-positions; and created Prince of the senate, by the general voice, At his new pupil's suffrage: then, no doubt, He held, and did believe, this. But no sooner The prince's frowns and jealousies had thrown him Out of security's lap, and a centurion Had offer'd him what choice of death he pleased, But told him, die he must; when straight the armour Of his so boasted fortitude fell off, [_Throws away the book._ Complaining of his frailty. Can it then Be censured womanish weakness in me, if, Thus clogg'd with irons, and the period To close up all calamities denied me, Which was presented Seneca, I wish I ne'er had being; at least, never knew What happiness was; or argue with heaven's justice, Tearing my locks, and, in defiance, throwing Dust in the air? or, falling on the ground, thus With my nails and teeth to dig a grave, or rend The bowels of the earth, my step-mother, And not a natural parent? or thus practise To die, and, as I were insensible, Believe I had no motion? [_Falls on his face._ _Enter_ GONZAGA, ADORNI, _and Gaoler_.