_He, whom you pleased to favour, is cast down Past hope of rising, by the great duke's frown, If, by your gracious means, he cannot have A pardon;--and that got, he lives your slave. Of men the most distressed_, SANAZARRO. Of me the most beloved; and I will save thee, Or perish with thee. Sure, thy fault must be Of some prodigious shape, if that my prayers And humble intercession to the duke _Enter_ COZIMO _and_ CHAROMONTE. Prevail not with him. Here he comes; delay Shall not make less my benefit. _Coz._ What we purpose Shall know no change, and therefore move we not: We were made as properties, and what we shall Determine of them cannot be call'd rigour, But noble justice. When they proved disloyal, They were cruel to themselves. The prince that pardons The first affront offer'd to majesty, Invites a second, rendering that power Subjects should tremble at, contemptible. Ingratitude is a monster, Carolo, To be strangled in the birth, not to be cherish'd. Madam, you're happily met with. _Fior._ Sir, I am An humble suitor to you; and the rather Am confident of a grant, in that your grace, When I made choice to be at your devotion, Vow'd to deny me nothing. _Coz._ To this minute We have confirm'd it. What's your boon? _Fior._ It is, sir, That you, in being gracious to your servant, The ne'er sufficiently praised Sanazarro, That now under your heavy displeasure suffers, Would be good unto yourself. His services, So many, and so great, (your storm of fury Calm'd by your better judgment,) must inform you Some little slip, for sure it is no more, From his loyal duty, with your justice cannot Make foul his fair deservings. Great sir, therefore, Look backward on his former worth, and turning Your eye from his offence, what 'tis I know not, And, I am confident, you will receive him Once more into your favour. _Coz._ You say well, You are ignorant in the nature of his fault; Which when you understand, as we'll instruct you, Your pity will appear a charity, It being conferr'd on an unthankful man, To be repented. He's a traitor, madam, To you, to us, to gratitude; and in that All crimes are comprehended. _Fior._ If his offence Aim'd at me only, whatsoe'er it is, 'Tis freely pardon'd.