_Cel._ [_Kneeling._] 'Tis Celidea.-- Alas, I would relieve you, if I durst: If ever I offended, even in thought, Or made not your commands The bounds of all my wishes and desires, Bid me be dumb, or else permit me speech. _Vera._ Oh rise, my only unoffending child, Who reconciles me to the name of father! Speak then;--but not for her, and less for him. _Cel._ Perhaps I would accuse them, not defend; For both are guilty, dipt in equal crimes, And are obnoxious to your justice both. _Vera._ True, Celidea; thou confirm'st my sentence. 'Tis just Alphonso die. _Xim._ Forgive her, heaven! she aggravates their faults, And pushes their destruction. [_Aside._ _Cel._ Speak, Alphonso: Can you deny, when royal Veramond, Then thought your father, and by you so deemed, When he required your captive, old Ramirez, And ordered his confinement; did you well Then to controul the pleasure of that king, Under whose just commands you fought and conquered? _Alph._ I did not well; but heat of boiling youth, And ill weighed honour, made me disobey. _Vera._ That cause is gained; for he confesses guilt.-- Proceed, most equitable judge, proceed. _Cel._ [_To_ ALPH.] Next, I reproach you with a worse rebellion: The king's first promise, to Don Garcia made, You dared to oppose; forbade his fair addresses; Then made a ruffian quarrel with that prince; And, last, were guilty of incestuous love. I will not load my sister with consent; But, in strict virtue, listening to a crime, And not rejecting, is itself a crime. _Vict._ Is this a sister's office? peace, for shame! We loved without transgressing virtue's bounds; We fixed the limits of our tenderest thoughts; Came to the verge of honour, and there stopt: We warmed us by the fire, but were not scorched. If this be sin, angels might love with less, And mingle rays of minds less pure than ours. Our souls enjoyed; but to their holy feasts, Bodies, on both sides, were forbidden guests. _Cel._ Now help me, father, or our cause is lost; For much I fear their love was innocent. _Vera._ With my own troops Alphonso seized my person, In my own town, to my perpetual shame. Pass on to that, and strike the traitor dead. _Cel._ Yes, proud Alphonso, you were banish'd hence; Your father was confined, and doomed to death; The beauty you adored was made another's. How durst you, then, attempt to avenge your wrongs, And force your mistress from your rival's arms, Rather than die contented, as you ought? _Alph._ Even for those very reasons you allege. _Xim._ At last I find her drift. [_Aside._ _Vera._ Thou justifiest, and not accusest him.