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Thus n.o.ble Prince--
Ca.s.silanes:
Let me alone, thou troublest me, I will be heard.
Arcanes:
You know not what you do.
Possenne:
Forbear: who's he that is so rude? what's he that dares To interrupt our counsels?
Ca.s.silanes:
One that has guarded, Those Purple robes from Cankers worse than Moths, One that hath kept your fleeces on your backs, That would have been s.n.a.t.c.h'd from you: but I see 'Tis better now to be a Dog, a Spaniel In times of Peace, then boast the bruised scars, Purchas'd with loss of bloud in n.o.ble wars, My Lords, I speak to you.
Porphycio:
Lord _Ca.s.silane_, We know not what you mean.
Ca.s.silanes:
Yes, you are set Upon a bench of justice; and a day Will come (hear this, and quake ye potent great ones) When you your selves shall stand before a judge, Who in a pair of scales will weigh your actions, Without abatement of one grain: as then You would be found full weight, I charge ye fathers Let me have justice now.
Possenne:
Lord _Ca.s.silane_, What strange distemperature provokes distrust Of our impartiality? be sure We'l flatter no mans injuries.
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Ca.s.silanes:
'Tis well; You have a Law, Lords, that without remorse Dooms such as are belepred with the curse Of foul ingrat.i.tude unto death.
Porphycio:
We have.
Ca.s.silanes:
Then do me justice.
[Enter _Antinous_, _Decius_, _Erota_, _Hyparcha_.]
Decius:
Mad-man, whither run'st thou?
Antinous:
Peace _Decius_, I am deaf.
Hyparcha:
Will you forget Your greatness, and your modesty?
Erota Hyparcha:
leave, I will not hear.
Antinous:
Lady; great, gentle, Lady.
Erota:
Prethee young man forbear to interrupt me, Triumph not in thy fortunes; I will speak.
Possenne:
More uproars yet! who are they that disturb us?
Ca.s.silanes:
The viper's come; his fears have drawn him hither, And now, my Lords, be Ch[ro]nicled for ever, And give me justice against this vile Monster, This b.a.s.t.a.r.d of my bloud.
Erota:
'Tis justice, Fathers, I sue for too: and though I might command it, (If you remember Lords, whose child I was) Yet I will humbly beg it; this old wretch Has forfeited his life to me.
Ca.s.silanes:
Tricks, tricks; Complots, devices, 'twixt these pair of young-ones, To blunt the edge of your well temper'd Swords, Wherewith you strike offenders, Lords, but I Am not a baby to be fear'd with bug-bears, 'Tis justice I require.
Erota:
And I.
Antinous:
You speak too tenderly; and too much like yourself To mean a cruelty; which would make monstrous Your s.e.x: yet for the loves sake, which you once Pleas'd to pretend, give my griev'd Father leave To urge his own revenge; you have no cause For yours: keep peace about ye.
Ca.s.silanes:
Will you hear me?
289]
Philander:
