Pike.  Y’have said enough, indeed:  pitty of heaven,
What new invented cruelty is this! 
Was’t not enough that by his ruthlesse basenes
I had these wounds inflicted, but I must
Be tortured with his wifes uniust reioycings! 
’Twas well his politicke feare, which durst not come
To glory in his handy worke himselfe,
Could send your priviledg’d Ladyship.

Cat.  Indeed, you much mistake me; as I live,
As I hope mercy & for after life,
I come for nothing but to offer thankes
Unto your goodnes, by whose manly temper
My lord and husband reassum’d his life;
And aske your Christian pardon for the wrong
Which by your suffering now pleads him guilty. 
Good sir, let no mistrust of my iust purpose
Crosse your affection:  did you know my love
To honour and to honest actions,
You would not then reiect my gratulations. 
And since that deeds doe best declare our meaning,
I pray accept of this,
This money and these clothes and my request
Unto your keeper for best meats and wines
That are agreable to your health and taste. 
And, honest frend, thou knowst and darest, I hope,
Believe me I will see thee payd for all.

Jay.  Yes, my good Lady.—­Loe you, sir, you see
Still how my care provides your good:  you may
Suppose the Governours humanity
Takes care for you in this, too.

Pike.  Excellent Ladye I doe now beleive Virtue and weomen are growne frends againe.

    Enter Don John.

Jo.  What magicall Illusion’s this? ’tis she! 
Confusion seize your charitable blindnesse! 
Are you a prison visiter for this,
To cherish my dishonour for your merit?

Cat.  My lord, I hope my Charity workes for your honour, Releiving him whose mercy spard your life.

Jo.  But that I’me subiect to the law & know
My blowes are mortall, I would strike thee dead. 
Ignoble & degenerate from Spanish bloud,
Darst thou maintaine this to be charity? 
Thy strumpett itch & treason to my bed
Thou seekst to act in cherishing this villaine.

Cat.  Saints be my witnesses you doe me wrong!

Jo.  Thou robbst my honour.

Pike.  You wound her honour and you robb yourselfe, And me and all good Christians, by this outrage.

Jo.  Doe you prate, sir?

Pike.  Sir, I may speake; my tongue’s unshackled yet,
And, were my hands and feete so, on free ground
I would mayntayne the honour of this Lady
Against an Hoast of such ignoble husbands.

Jo.  You are condemnd allready by the Law I make no doubt; and therefore speake your pleasure.  —­And here come those fore whom my rage is silent.

    Enter Ferdinando, Teniente, Guard.

Fer.  Deliver up your prisoner to the Teniente. 
I need not, sir, instruct you in your place
To beare him with a guard as is appointed
Unto the publicke tryall held at Sherrys.