_Clar._ Slave, I will fight with thee at any odds; 350 Or name an instrument fit for destruction, That e'er[167] was made to make away a man, I'll meet thee on the ridges of the Alps,[168] Or some inhospitable wilderness, Stark-naked, at push of pike, or keen curtle-axe, At Turkish sickle, Babylonian saw, The ancient hooks of great Cadwallader, Or any other heathen invention! _Tha._ O God bless the man! _Lady Len._ Counsel him, good my lord! 360 _Men._ Our tongues are weary, and he desperate. He does refuse to hear. What shall we do? _Clar._ I am not mad--I can hear, I can see, I can feel! But a wise rage in man, wrong'd[169] past compare, Should be well nourish'd, as his virtues are. I'd have it known unto each valiant sprite,[170] He wrongs no man that to himself does right. Catzo,[171] I ha' done; Signior Rogero, I ha' done! _Gui._ By heaven! This voluntary reconciliation, made 370 Freely and of itself, argues unfeign'd And virtuous knot of love. So, sirs, embrace! _Rog._ Sir, by the conscience of a Catholic man, And by our mother Church, that binds And doth atone in amity with God The souls of men, that they with men be one, I tread into the centre all the thoughts Of ill in me toward you, and memory Of what from you might aught disparage me; Wishing unfeignedly it may sink low, 380 And, as untimely births, want power to grow. _Men._ Christianly said! Signior, what would you have more? _Clar._ And so I swear. You're honest, onocentaur! _Gui._ Nay, see now! Fie upon your turbulent spirit! Did he doo 't in this form? _Clar._ If you think not this sufficient, you shall command me to be reconciled in another form--as a rhimatrix or a rhinoceros.[172] _Men._ 'Sblood! what will you do? 389 _Clar._ Well, give me your hands first: I am friends with you, i'faith. Thereupon I embrace you, kiss your wife, and God give us joy! [_To_ THAIS. _Tha._ You mean me and my husband? _Clar._ You take the meaning better than the speech, lady. _Rog._ The like wish I, but ne'er can be the like, And therefore wish I thee. _Clar._ By this bright light, that is deriv'd from thee---- _Tha._ So, sir, you make me a very light creature! _Clar._ But that thou art a blessèd angel, sent Down from the gods t' atone mortal men, 400 I would have thought deeds beyond all men's thoughts, And executed more upon his corps. O let him thank the beauty of this eye, And not his resolute swords or destiny. _Gui._ What say'st thou, Mizaldus? Come, applaud this jubilee, A day these hundred years before not truly known To these divided factions.