_Man_. I find I cannot lift my hand against thee: Do what thou wilt; but let not me behold it. [_Goes off a little way_. I'll cut this gordian knot I cannot loose: To keep his promise, Rodorick shall have her, But I'll return and rescue her by force; Then giving back what he so frankly gave, At once my honour and his love I'll save. [_Exit MANUEL_. _Enter RODORICK_. _Rod_. How! Julia brought by him?--Who sent for me? _Gons_. 'Twas I. _Rod_. I know your business then; 'tis fighting. _Gons_. You're mistaken; 'tis something that I fear. _Rod_. What is't? _Gons_. Why,--'twill not out: Here, take her; And deserve her: but no thanks; For fear I should consider what I give, And call it back.-- _Jul_. O my dear Rodorick! _Gons_. O cruel Julia! For pity shew not all your joy before me; Stifle some part of it one minute longer, 'Till I am dead. _Jul_. My Rodorick shall know, He owes his Julia to you; thank him, love; In faith I take it ill you are so slow. _Rod_. You know he has forbid me; and, beside, He'll take it better from your mouth than mine; All that you do must needs be pleasing to him. _Jul_. Still sullen and unkind! _Rod_. Why, then, in short, I do not understand the benefit. _Gons_. Not to have Julia in thy free possession? _Rod_. Not brought by you; not of another's leaving. _Jul_. Speak softly, Rodorick: Let not these hear thee; But spare my shame for the ill choice I made, In loving thee. _Rod_. I will speak loud, and tell thee, Thou com'st, all cloyed and tired with his embraces, To proffer thy palled love to me; his kisses Do yet bedew thy lips; the very print, His arms made round thy body, yet remains. _Gons_. O barbarous jealousy! _Jul_. 'Tis an harsh word: I am too pure for thee; but yet I love thee. [_Offers to take his hand_. _Rod_. Away, foul impudence. _Gons_. Madam, you wrong Your virtue, thus to clear it by submission. _Jul_. Whence grows this boldness, sir? did I ask you To be my champion? _Rod_. He chose to be your friend, and not your husband: Left that dull part of dignity to me; As often the worst actors play the kings. _Jul_. This jealousy is but excess of passion, Which grows up, wild, in every lover's breast; But changes kind when planted in an husband. _Rod_. Well, what I am, I am; and what I will be, When you are mine, my pleasure shall determine. I will receive no law from any man. _Jul_. This strange unkindness of my Rodorick I owe to thee, and thy unlucky love; Henceforth go lock it up within thy breast; 'Tis only harmless while it is concealed, But, opened, spreads infection like a vault. Go, and my curse go with thee!--