1 Sen.
My Lord, you have my Voice to't, the Fault's bloody;
'Tis necessary he should dye:
Nothing emboldens Sin so much as Mercy.

2 Sen.
Most true; the Law shall bruise 'em.

Alc.
Honour, Health and Compassion to the Senate.

1 Sen.
Now, Captain.

Alc.
I am an humble Suitor to your Virtues,
For Pity is the Virtue of the Law,
And none but Tyrants use it cruelly.
It pleases Time and Fortune to lye heavy
Upon a Friend of mine, who in hot Blood
Hath stept into the Law, which is past depth
To those that, without heed, do plunge into't.
He is a Man, setting his Fate aside, of comely Virtues,
And Honour in him, which buys out his Fault;
Nor did he soil the Fact with Cowardise,
But with a noble Fury, and fair Spirit,
Seeing his Reputation touch'd to Death,
He did oppose his Foe;
And with such sober and unnoted Passion
He did behave his Anger e'er 'twas spent,
As if he had but prov'd an Argument.

1 Sen.
You undergo too strict a Paradox,
Striving to make an ugly Deed look fair:
Your Words have took such pains, as if they labour'd
To bring Man-slaughter into form, and set quarrelling
Upon the head of Valour; which indeed
Is Valour mis-begot, and came into the World
When Sects and Factions were newly born.
He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer
The worst that Man can breath,
And make his Wrongs his out-sides,
To wear them like his Rayment, carelesly,
And ne'er prefer his Injuries to his Heart,
To bring it into Danger.
If Wrongs be Evils, and enforce us kill,
What Folly 'tis to hazard Life for ill.

Alc.
My Lord!—

1 Sen.
You cannot make gross Sins look clear,
To revenge is no Valour, but to bear.

Alc.
My Lords, then under favour, pardon me;
If I speak like a Captain.
Why do fond Men expose themselves to Battel,
And not endure all Threats? Sleep upon't,
And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats,
Without repugnancy? If there be
Such Valour in the bearing, what make we
Abroad? Why then Women are more valiant
That stay at home, if bearing carry it;
And the Ass, more Captain than the Lion? The Fellow
Loaden with Irons, wiser than the Judge,
If Wisdom be in suffering. Oh my Lords,
As you are Great, be pitifully Good:
Who cannot condemn Rashness in cold Blood?
To kill, I grant, is Sin's extreamest Gust,
But in defence, by Mercy 'tis most Just.
To be in Anger, is Impiety:
But who is Man, that is not Angry?
Weigh but the Crime with this.

2 Sen.
You breath in vain.

Alc.
In vain?
His Service done at Lacedæmon, and Bizantium,
Were a sufficient Briber for his Life.

1 Sen.
What's that?

Alc.
Why, I say my Lords, h'as done fair Service,
And slain in Fight many of your Enemies:
How full of Valour did he bear himself
In the last Conflict, and made plenteous Wounds?

2 Ser.
He has made too much plenty with 'em,
He's a sworn Rioter; he has a Sin
That often drowns him, and takes his Valour Prisoner.
If there were no Foes, that were enough
To overcome him. In that beastly Fury
He has been known to commit Outrages,
And cherish Factions. 'Tis inferr'd to us,
His Days are foul, and his Drink dangerous.

1 Sen.
He dies.

Alc.
Hard Fate! he might have dy'd in War.
My Lords, if not for any Parts in him,
Though his right Arm might purchase his own time,
And be in debt to none; yet more to move you,
Take my Deserts to his, and join 'em both.
And for I know, your Reverend Ages love Security,
I'll pawn my Victories, all my Honours to you,
Upon his good returns.
If by this Crime he owes the Law his Life,
Why let the War receive it in valiant Gore;
For Law is strict, and War is nothing more.

1 Sen.
We are for Law, he dyes, urge it no more,
On height of our Displeasure: Friend, or Brother,
He forfeits his own Blood, that spills another.

Alc.
Must it be so? It must not be:
My Lords, I do beseech you know me.

2 Sen.
How?

Alc.
Call me to your Remembrances.

3 Sen.
What!—

Alc.
I cannot think but your Age hath forgot me,
It could not else be, I should prove so base,
To sue, and be deny'd such common Grace.
My Wounds ake at you.

1 Sen.
Do you dare our Anger?
'Tis in few Words, but spacious in effect.
We banish thee for ever.

Alc.
Banish me! banish your Dotage, banish Usury,
That makes the Senate ugly.

1 Sen.
If after two Days shine, Athens contains thee,
Attend our weightier Judgment.
And, not to swell our Spirit,
He shall be Executed presently. [Exeunt.

Alc.
Now the Gods keep you old enough,
That you may live
Only in Bone, that none may look on you.
I'm worse than mad: I have kept back their Foes
While they have told their Mony, and let out
Their Coin upon large Interest; I my self,
Rich only in large Hurts.—All those, for this?
Is this the Balsom that the usuring Senate
Pours into Captains Wounds? Ha! Banishment!
It comes not ill: I hate not to be banisht,
It is a Cause worthy for Spleen and Fury,
That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up
My discontented Troops, and lay for Hearts:
'Tis Honour with most Lands to be at odds,
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as Gods. [Exit.

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