Annophel: 

      Lords, why do ye keep your seats? they are no places
      For such as are offenders.

Possenne: 

      Though our ignorance
      Of Cassilanes engagements might asswage
      Severity of justice, yet to shew
      How no excuse should smooth a breach of Law,
      I yield me to the trial of it.

Porphycio: 

      So must I: 
      Great Prince of Cyprus, you are left
      The only Moderator in this difference;
295] And as you are a Prince be a Protector
      To wofull Candy.

Philander: 

      What a Scene of miserie
      Hath thine obdurate frowardness (old man)
      Drawn on thy Countries bosom? and for that
      Thy proud ambition could not mount so high
      As to be stil’d thy Countries only Patron,
      Thy malice hath descended to the depth
      Of Hell, to be renowned in the Title
      Of the destroyer? dost thou yet perceive
      What curses all posterity will brand
      Thy grave with? that at once hast rob’d this Kingdom
      Of honour and of safety.

Erota: 

      Children yet unborn
      Will stop their ears when thou art nam’d.

Arcanes: 

      The world will be too little to contain
      The memorie of this detested deed;
      The Furies will abhorr it.

Decius: 

      What the sword
      Could not enforce, your peevish thirst of honour
      (A brave, cold, weak, imaginarie fame)
      Hath brought on Candy:  Candy groans, not these
      That are to die.

Philander: 

      ’Tis happiness enough
      For them, that they shall not survive to see
      The wounds wherewith thou stab’st the land that gave
      Thee life and name.

Decius: 

      ’Tis Candy’s wrack shall feel—­

Cassilanes: 

      The mischief of your folly.

Porphycio Possenne: 

      Annophel—­

Annophel: 

      I will not be entreated.

Cassilanes: 

      Prethee Annophel.

Annophel: 

      Why would ye urge me to a mercy which
      You in your self allow not?

Cassilanes: 

      ’Tis the Law,
      That if the party who complains, remit
      The offender, he is freed:  is’t not so Lords?

Porphycio Possenne: 

      ’Tis so.

Cassilanes: 

      Antinous, By my shame observe
      What a close witch-craft popular applause is: 
296] I am awak’d, and with clear eyes behold
      The Lethargie wherein my reason long
      Hath been be-charm’d:  live, live, my matchless son,
      Blest in thy Fathers blessing; much more blest
      In thine own vertues:  let me dew thy cheeks
      With my unmanly tears:  Rise, I forgive thee: 
      And good Antinous, if I shall be thy Father
      Forgive me:  I can speak no more.