Duke. Thank my folly.

Fred. But reason now has reassumed its place, And makes me see how black a crime it is To use a force upon my prince and father.

Duke. You give me hope you will resign Lucretia.

Fred. Ah no; I never can resign her to you: 
But, sir, I can my life; which, on my knees,
I tender, as the atoning sacrifice: 
Or if your hand (because you are a father)
Be loth to take away that life you gave,
I will redeem your crime, by making it
My own:  So you shall still be innocent, and I
Die blessed, and unindebted for my being.

Duke. O Frederick, you are too much a son, [Embracing him.
And I too little am a father:  you,
And you alone, have merited Lucretia;
’Tis now my only grief,
I can do nothing to requite this virtue: 
For to restore her to you,
Is not an act of generosity,
But a scant, niggard justice; yet I love her
So much, that even this little, which I do,
Is like the bounty of an usurer;
High to be priz’d from me,
Because ’tis drawn from such a wretched mind.

Fred. You give me now a second, better life; [Kissing his hand.
But,—­that the gift may be more easy to you,—­
Consider, sir, Lucretia did not love you,—­
I fear to say, ne’er would.

Duke. You do well to help me to o’ercome that difficulty: 
I’ll weigh that, too, hereafter.  For a love,
So violent as mine, will ask long time,
And much of reason, to effect the cure. 
My present care shall be to make you happy;
For that will make my wish impossible,
And then the remedies will be more easy.

  Enter SOPHRONIA, LUCRETIA, VIOLETTA, LAURA, HIPPOLITA.

Soph. I have, with joy, o’erheard this happy change, And come with blessings to applaud your conquest Over the greatest of mankind, yourself.

Duke. I hope ’twill be a full and lasting one.

Luc. Thus, let me kneel, and pay my thanks and duty, [Kneeling. Both to my prince and father.

Duke. Rise, rise, too charming maid, for yet I cannot
Call you my daughter:  that first name, Lucretia,
Hangs on my lips, and would be still pronounced. 
Look not too kindly on me; one sweet glance,
Perhaps, would ruin both:  therefore, I’ll go
And try to get new strength to bear your eyes. 
’Till then, farewell.  Be sure you love my Frederick,
And do not hate his father. [Exeunt Duke and VALERIO.

Fred. [At the door.] Now, friends, you may appear.

  Enter AURELIAN, CAMILLO, BENITO.

Your pardon, madam, that we thus intrude
On holy ground:  yourself best know it could not
Be avoided, and it shall be my care it be excused.

Soph. Though sovereign princes bear a privilege
Of entering when they please within our walls,
In others ’tis a crime past dispensation;
And therefore, to avoid a public scandal,
Be pleased, sir, to retire, and quit this garden.