Silv. Yes, can I let her live, and say I lov’d her? No, she shall tempt no more vain yielding Men. Franc. Consider, Sir, it is to save your Life she does it. Silv. My Life! ’Twere better she and I were buried Quick in one Grave, than she should fall to this, She has out-sinn’d even me in this Consent. 318 Enter _Marcel_ from amongst the Trees softly with his Dagger behind _Silvio_. Mar. Oh, here they are— Franc. My Lord, defend your self, your are undone else. Silv. Hah, _Marcel!_ [Draws. Franc. Help, help. Mar. Hell take thy Throat. Enter _Ambrosio_, _Clarinda_, _Cleonte_, and the rest of the House. Amb. Hold, Villain, hold. How dar’st thou thus rebel—ungrateful Wretch? Mar. This cause, Sir, is so just, that when you hear it, You’ll curse me, that I let him live thus long: He loves my Sister, Sir; and that leud Woman Repays his lustful Flame, and does this Evening Invite him to her Bed—Oh, let me kill him. [Offers to go to him. Amb. That he should love _Cleonte_ I’ll allow, And her returns too, whilst they are innocent. Mar. But, Sir, he does not love her as a Sister. Amb. If that be all his Crime, I still forgive him. Silv. Yes, Sir, ’tis true, I do adore my Sister, But am so far from that foul thing he nam’d, That could I think I had a secret Thought That tended that way, I would search it—thus— [Goes to stab himself. Cleo. What mean you by this Desperation? Silv. Oh, take away this Woman from my sight. [Pointing to _Cleonte_. For she will finish what this has ill begun. [Holds his Dagger up. Franc. Thus low, Sir, for you Mercy I must kneel; [Kneels. Which yet I must despair of, when you know 319 How very very wicked I have been. [Weeps. _Cleonte_, Sir, is chaste as Angels are. Silv. My Sister innocent! how soon I do believe thee! Franc. Yes, Sir, nor knows of that vile Message which I brought you. Silv. What Devil set thee on to tempt me then? Franc. The worst of Devils, hopeless, raging Love; And you, my Lord, were the unhappy Object. Mar. Oh sinful Woman, what was thy Design? Cleo. What means all this? [Aside. Franc. At least to have enjoy’d him once; which done, Thinking that it had been the fair _Cleonte_, It would have made him hate her. Silv. Should all thy other Sins be unrepented, The Piety of this Confession saves thee. Pardon, _Cleonte_, my rude Thoughts of thee, [Kneels, she takes him up. I had design’d to have kill’d thee— Had not this Knowledge of thy Innocence Arriv’d before I’d seen thee next. And, Sir, your Pardon too I humbly beg, [To _Ambrosio_. With license to depart; I cannot live Where I must only see my beauteous Sister; That Torment is too great to be supported, That still must last, and never hope a Cure. Amb. Since you are so resolv’d, I will unfold A Secret to you, that perhaps may please you. Silv. Low at your Feet I do implore it, Sir. [Kneels. Amb. Your Quality forbids this Ceremony. [Takes him up. Silv. How, Sir!