Vict.  My husband,
The much, too much wrong’d Bellizarius,
Hath not deserv’d the measure of such misery
Which is throwne on him.  Call, oh call to minde
His service, how often he hath fought
And toyl’d in warres to give his Country peace. 
He has not beene a flatterer of the Time,
Nor Courted great ones for their glorious Vices;
He hath not sooth’d blinde dotage in the World,
Nor caper’d on the Common-wealths dishonour;
He has not peeld the rich nor flead the poore,
Nor from the heart-strings of the Commons drawne
Profit to his owne Coffers; he never brib’d
The white intents of mercy; never sold
Iustice for money, to set up his owne
And utterly undoe whole families. 
Yet some such men there are that have done thus: 
The mores the pitty.

King.  To the poynt.

Vict.  Oh, Sir,
Bellizarius has his wounds emptied of blood,
Both for his Prince and Countrey:  to repeat
Particulars were to do iniury
To your yet mindfull gratitude.  His Life,
His liberty, ’tis that I plead for—­that;
And since your enemies and his could never
Captive the one and triumph in the other,
Let not his friends—­his King—­commend a cruelty,
Strange to be talkt of, cursed to be acted. 
My husband, oh! my husband Bellizarius,
For him I begge.

King.  Lady, rise up; we will be gracious
To thy suit,—­Cause Bellizarius
And the Bishop be brought hither instantly.
                                [Exit for him.

Vict.  Now all the blessings due to a good King Crowne you with lasting honours.

King.  If thou canst
Perswade thy husband to recant his errours,
He shall not onely live, but in our favoures
Be chiefe.  Wilt undertake it?

Vict.  Undertake it, Sir,
On these conditions?  You shall your selfe
Be witnesse with what instance I will urge him
To pitty his owne selfe, recant his errours.

Anton.  So doing he will purchase many friends.

Dam.  Life, love, and liberty.

Vict.  But tell me, pray, Sir; What are those errours which he must recant?

King.  His hatred to those powers to which we bow,
On whom we all depend, he has kneel’d to them;
Let him his base Apostacy recant,
Recant his being a Christian, and recant
The love he beares to Christians.

Vict.  If he deny To doe all this, or any poynt of this, Is there no mercy for him?

King.  Couldst thou shed
A Sea of teares to drowne my resolution,
He dyes; could this fond man lay at my foote
The kingdomes of the earth, he dyes; he dyes
Were he my sonne, my father.  Bid him recant,
Else all the Torments cruelty can invent
Shall fall on him.

Vict.  No sparke of pitty?

King.  None.