As you sit here
     The Deputy of the great King, who is
     The Substitute of that impartial Judge,
     With whom, or wealth, or titles prevail nothing,
     Grant to a much wrong’d Widow, or a Wife
     Your patience, with liberty to speak
     In her own Cause, and let me face to face
     To this bad man, deliver what he is: 
     And if my wrongs, with his ingratitude ballanc’d,
     Move not compassion, let me die unpitied;
     His Tears, his Oaths, his Perjuries, I pass o’re;
     To think of them is a disease; but death
     Should I repeat them.  I dare not deny,
     (For Innocence cannot justifie what’s false)
     But all the Advocate hath alledged concerning
     His falshood, and my shame, in my consent,
     To be most true:  But now I turn to thee,
     To thee Don Henrique, and if impious Acts
     Have left thee blood enough to make a blush,
     I’le paint it on thy cheeks.  Was not the wrong
     Sufficient to defeat me of mine honour,
     To leave me full of sorrow, as of want,
     The witness of thy lust left in my womb,
     To testifie thy falshood, and my shame? 
     But now so many years I had conceal’d
     Thy most inhumane wickedness, and won
     This Gentleman, to hide it from the world,
     To Father what was thine (for yet by Heaven,
     Though in the City he pass’d for my husband,
     He never knew me as his wife.)

     Assist.

     ’Tis strange: 
     Give him an Oath.

     Oct.

     I gladly swear, and truly.

     Jac.

     After all this (I say) when I had born
     These wrongs, with Saint-like patience, saw another
     Freely enjoy, what was (in Justice) mine,
     Yet still so tender of thy rest and quiet,
     I never would divulge it, to disturb
     Thy peace at home; yet thou most barbarous,
     To be so careless of me, and my fame,
     (For all respect of thine in the first step
     To thy base lust, was lost) in open Court
     To publish my disgrace? and on record,
     To write me up an easie-yielding wanton? 
     I think can find no precedent:  In my extreams,
     One comfort yet is left, that though the Law
     Divorce me from thy bed, and made free way
     To the unjust embraces of another,
     It cannot yet deny that this thy Son
     (Look up Ascanio since it is come out)
     Is thy legitimate heir.

     Jam.

     Confederacie! 
     A trick (my Lord) to cheat me; e’re you give
     Your Sentence, grant me hearing.

     Assist.

     New Chimera’s?

     Jam.

     I am (my Lord) since he is without Issue,
     Or hope of any, his undoubted heir,
     And this forg’d by the Advocate, to defeat me
     Of what the laws of Spain confer upon me,
     A meer Imposture, and conspiracie
     Against my future fortunes.