1 Sen.
My lord, you have my voice to't, the fault's bloody;
'Tis necessary he should die:
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

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

Alc.
Health, Honour, 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 lie 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, ^{1 note}
setting his fault aside,
Of virtuous honour, 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 ^{2 note}and unnoted passion
^{3 note}

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, &wlquo;set quarrelling
&wlquo;Upon the head of valour; which, indeed,
&wlquo;Is valour mis-begot, and came into the world
&wlquo;When sects and factions were but newly born.&wrquo;
He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer
The worst that man can breathe, ^{4 note}


and make his wrongs

His out-side wear; hang like his rayment, carlesly:
And ne'er prefer his Injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.
If wrongs be evils, and inforce us kill,
What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill?

Alc.
My lord,—

1 Sen.
You cannot make gross sins look clear;
It is not valour to revenge, but bear.

Alc.
My lords then, under favour, pardon me,
If I speak like a Captain.
Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,
And not endure all threatnings, sleep upon't,
And let the foes quietly cut their throats,
Without repugnancy? but if there be
Such valour in the bearing, what make we
Abroad? why then, sure, women are more valiant,
That stay at home, if bearing carry it;
The ass, more than the lion; and the fellow,
Loaden with irons, wiser than the judge;
If wisdom be in suff'ring. Oh, my lords,
As you are great, be pitifully good:
Who cannot condemn Rashness in cold blood?
To kill, I grant, is ^{5 note}sin's extreamest gust,
But, in defence,—^{6 note}
by mercy, 'tis made just.
To be in anger is impiety:
But who is man, that is not angry?
Weigh but the crime with this.

2 Sen.
You breathe in vain.

Alc.
In vain? his Service done
At Lacedæmon, and Byzantium,
Were a sufficient briber for his life.

1 Sen.
What's that?

Alc.
I say, my lords, h'as done fair service,

And slain in battle many of your enemies;
How full of valour did he bear himself
In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds?

2 Sen.
He has made too much plenty with 'em,
^{7 note}

1 Sen.
He dies.

Alc.
Hard fate! he might have died 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,
My Honours to you, on his good returns.
If by this crime he owes the law his life,
Why, let the war receiv't in valiant gore;
For law is strict, and war is nothing more.

1 Sen.
We are for law, he dies, 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, ^{9 note}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 make the Senate ugly.

1 Sen.
If, after two day's shine, Athens contains thee,
Attend our weightier judgment.
^{1 note}

Alc.
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 myself,
Rich only in large hurts.—All those, for this?
Is this the balsam 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 my spleen and fury,
That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up
My discontented troops, ^{2 note}

'Tis honour with most hands to be at odds;
Soldiers as little should brook wrongs, as Gods. [Exit.

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