'Tis your best course:
Would every enemy I have would beat me,
I would wish no better Action.

_Octa_.

'Save your Lordship.

_Asc_.

My humble service.

_Jam_.

My good Boy, how dost thou?
Why art thou call'd into the Court?

_Enter_ Assistant, Henrique, Officer, _and_ Witnesses.

_Asc_.

I know not,
But 'tis my Lord the Assistants pleasure
I should attend here.

_Jam_.

He will soon resolve us.

_Offi_.

Make way there for the Judge.

_Jam_.

How? my kind Brother?
Nay then 'tis rank: there is some villany towards.

_Assist_.

This Sessions purchas'd at your suit, _Don Henrique_,
Hath brought us hither, to hear and determine
Of what you can prefer.

_Hen_.

I do beseech
The honourable Court, I may be heard
In my Advocate.

_Assist_.

'Tis granted.

_Bar_.

Humh, humh.

_Jam_.

That Preface,
If left out in a Lawyer, spoils the Cause,
Though ne're so good, and honest.

_Bar_.

If I stood here,
To plead in the defence of an ill man,
(Most equal Judge) or to accuse the innocent
(To both which, I profess my self a stranger)
It would be requisite I should deck my Language
With Tropes and Figures, and all flourishes
That grace a Rhetorician, 'tis confess'd
Adulterate Metals need the Gold-smiths Art,
To set 'em off; what in it self is perfect
Contemns a borrowed gloss: this Lord (my Client)
Whose honest cause, when 'tis related truly,
Will challenge justice, finding in his Conscience
A tender scruple of a fault long since
By him committed, thinks it not sufficient
To be absolv'd of't by his Confessor,
If that in open Court he publish not
What was so long conceal'd.

_Jam_.

To what tends this?

_Bar_.

In his young years (it is no miracle
That youth, and heat of blood, should mix together)
He look'd upon this woman, on whose face
The ruines yet remain, of excellent form,
He look'd on her, and lov'd her.

_Jac_.

You good Angels,
What an impudence is this?

_Bar_.

And us'd all means
Of Service, Courtship, Presents, that might win her
To be at his devotion: but in vain;
Her Maiden Fort, impregnable held