Mony to buy him food; the bread he eat,
      Was from my purse:  when he (vain-gloriously)
      To dive into the peoples hearts, had pawn’d
      His birth-right, I redeem’d it, sent it to him,
      And for requitall, only made my suite,
      That he would please to new receive his son
      Into his favour, for whose love I told him
      I had been still so friendly:  but then he
      As void of gratitude, as all good nature,
      Distrafted like a mad man, poasted hither
      To pull this vengeance on himself, and us;
      For why, my Lords, since by the Law, all means
      Is blotted out of your commission,
      As this hard hearted Father hath accus’d
      Noble Antinous, his unblemished Son,
291] So I accuse this Father, and crave judgement.

Cassilanes: 

      All this is but deceit, meer trifles forg’d
      By combination to defeat the process
      Of Justice, I will have Antinous life.

Arcanes: 

      Sir, what do ye mean?

Erota: 

      I will have Cassilane’s.

Antinous: 

      Cunning and cruel Lady, runs the stream
      Of your affections this way? have you not
      Conquest enough by treading on my grave? 
      Unless you send me thither in a shrowd
      Steept in my fathers bloud? as you are woman,
      As the protests of love you vow’d were honest;
      Be gentler to my Father.

Erota: 

      Cassilane,
      Thou hast a heart of flint:  let my intreaties,
      My tears, the Sacrifice of griefs unfeigned,
      Melt it:  yet be a Father to thy son,
      Unmask thy long besotted judgement, see
      A low obedience kneeling at the feet
      Of nature, I beseech you.

Cassilanes: 

      Pish, you cozen
      Your hopes:  your plots are idle:  I am resolute.

Erota: 

      Antinous, urge no further.

Antinous: 

      Hence thou Sorcery
      Of a beguiling softness, I will stand,
      Like the earths center, unmov’d; Lords your breath
      Must finish these divisions:  I confess
      Civility doth teach I should not speak
      Against a Lady of her birth, so high
      As great Erota, but her injuries
      And thankless wrongs to me, urge me to cry
      Aloud for justice, Fathers.

Decius: 

      Whither run you?

Antinous: 

      For (honoured fathers) that you all may know
      That I alone am not unmatchable
      In crimes of this condition, lest perhaps
      You might conceive, as yet the case appears,
      That this foul stain, and guilt runs in a bloud;
      Before this presence, I accuse this Lady
      Of as much vile ingratitude to me.
292]