_Tow._ I'll fight myself all scarlet over first; Were there no love, or no revenge, I could not now desist, in point of honour. _Har. Jun._ Resolve me first one question: Did you not draw your sword this night before, To rescue one opprest with odds? _Tow._ Yes, in this very wood: I bear a ring, The badge of gratitude from him I saved. _Har. Jun._ This ring was mine; I should be loth to kill The frank redeemer of my life. _Tow._ I quit that obligation. But we lose time. Come, ravisher! [_They fight again,_ TOW. _closes with_ HARM, _and gets him down; as he is going to kill him, the_ FISC. _gets over him._ _Fisc._ Hold, and let him rise; for if you kill him, At the same instant you die too. _Tow._ Dog, do thy worst, for I would so be killed; I'll carry his soul captive with me into the other world. [_Stabs_ HARMAN. _Har. Jun._ O mercy, mercy, heaven! [_Dies._ _Fisc._ Take this, then; in return. [_As he is going to stab him,_ ISAB. _takes hold of his hand._ _Isab._ Hold, hold; the weak may give some help. _Tow._ [_Rising._] Now, sir, I am for you. _Fisc._ [_Retiring._] Hold, sir, there is no more resistance made. I beg you, by the honour of your nation, Do not pursue my life; I tender you my sword. [_Holds his sword by the point to him._ _Tow._ Base beyond example of any country, but thy own! _Isab._ Kill him, sweet love, or we shall both repent it. _Fisc._ [_Kneeling to her._] Divinest beauty! Abstract of all that's excellent in woman, can you be friend to murder? _Isab._ 'Tis none to kill a villain, and a Dutchman. _Fisc._ [_Kneeling to_ TOWERSON.] Noble Englishman, give me my life, unworthy of your taking! By all that is good and holy here I swear, before the governor to plead your cause; and to declare his son's detested crime, so to secure your lives. _Tow._ Rise, take thy life, though I can scarce believe thee; If for a coward it be possible, become an honest man. _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ VAN HERRING, BEAMONT, COLLINS, JULIA, _the Governors Guard._ _Fisc._ [_To_ HAR.] Oh, sir, you come in time to rescue me; The greatest villain, who this day draws breath, Stands here before your eyes: behold your son, That worthy, sweet, unfortunate young man, Lies there, the last cold breath yet hovering Betwixt his trembling lips. _Tow._ Oh, monster of ingratitude! _Har._ Oh, my unfortunate old age, whose prop And only staff is gone, dead ere I die! These should have been his tears, and I have been That body to be mourned. _Beam._ I am so much amazed, I scarce believe my senses. _Fisc._ And will you let him live, who did this act? Shall murder, and of your own son, And such a son, go free; He lives too long, By this one minute which he stays behind him.