_Bert._ Oh, how have I stray'd, And wilfully, out of the noble track Mark'd me by virtue! till now, I was never Truly a prisoner. To excuse my late Captivity, I might allege the malice Of Fortune; you, that conquer'd me, confessing Courage in my defence was no way wanting. But now I have surrender'd up my strengths Into the power of Vice, and on my forehead Branded, with mine own hand, in capital letters, DISLOYAL, and INGRATEFUL. Though barr'd from Human society, and hiss'd into Some desert ne'er yet haunted with the curses Of men and women, sitting as a judge Upon my guilty self, I must confess It justly falls upon me; and one tear, Shed in compassion of my sufferings, more Than I can hope for. _Cam._ This compunction For the wrong that you have done me, though you should Fix here, and your true sorrow move no further, Will, in respect I loved once, make these eyes Two springs of sorrow for you. _Bert._ In your pity My cruelty shows more monstrous: yet I am not, Though most ingrateful, grown to such a height Of impudence, as, in my wishes only, To ask your pardon. If, as now I fall Prostrate before your feet, you will vouchsafe To act your own revenge, treading upon me As a viper eating through the bowels of Your benefits, to whom, with liberty, I owe my being, 'twill take from the burden That now is insupportable. _Cam._ Pray you, rise; As I wish peace and quiet to my soul, I do forgive you heartily: yet, excuse me, Though I deny myself a blessing that, By the favour of the duchess, seconded With your submission, is offer'd to me; Let not the reason I allege for 't grieve you, You have been false once.--I have done: and if, When I am married, as this day I will be, As a perfect sign of your atonement with me, You wish me joy, I will receive it for Full satisfaction of all obligations In which you stand bound to me. _Bert._ I will do it, And, what's more, in despite of sorrow, live To see myself undone, beyond all hope To be made up again. _Syl._ My blood begins To come to my heart again. _Cam._ Pray you, signior Sylli, Call in the holy friar: he's prepared For finishing the work. _Syl._ I knew I was The man: heaven make me thankful! [_Exit._ _Rob._ Who is this? _Ast._ His father was the banker of Palermo, And this the heir of his great wealth: his wisdom Was not hereditary. _Aurel._ For my part, I cannot guess the issue. _Re-enter_ SYLLI _with Father_ PAULO. _Syl._ Do your duty; And with all speed you can, you may despatch us. _Paul._ Thus, as a principal ornament to the church, I seize her. _All._ How! _Rob._ So young, and so religious! _Paul._ She has forsook the world. _Syl._ I shall run mad. _Rob._ Hence with the fool! [SYLLI _is thrust off_.] Proceed, sir.