Tow. You may live to see yourself revenged. 
Come, you shall stay for that, then I’ll die with you,
You have convinced my reason, nor am I
Ashamed to learn from you. 
To heaven’s tribunal my appeal I make;
If as a governor he sets me here,
To guard this weak-built citadel of life,
When ’tis no longer to be held, I may
With honour quit the fort.  But first I’ll both
Revenge myself and you.

Isab. Alas! you cannot take revenge; your countrymen Are few, and those unarmed.

Tow. Though not on all the nation, as I would, Yet I at least can take it on the man.

Isab. Leave me to heaven’s revenge, for thither I
Will go, and plead, myself, my own just cause. 
There’s not an injured saint of all my sex,
But kindly will conduct me to my judge,
And help me tell my story.

Tow. I’ll send the offender first, though to that place
He never can arrive:  Ten thousand devils,
Damned for less crimes than he,
And Tarquin in their head, way-lay his soul,
To pull him down in triumph, and to shew him
In pomp among his countrymen; for sure
Hell has its Netherlands, and its lowest country
Must be their lot.

  Enter HARMAN Junior, and FISCAL.

Har.  Jun. ’Twas hereabout I left her tied.  The rage of love renews again within me.

Fisc. She’ll like the effects on’t better now.  By this time it has sunk into her imagination, and given her a more pleasing idea of the man, who offered her so sweet a violence.

Isab. Save me, sweet heaven! the monster comes again!

Har.  Jun. Oh, here she is.—­My own fair bride,—­for so you are, not Towerson’s,—­let me unbind you; I expect that you should bind yourself about me now, and tie me in your arms.

Tow. [Drawing.]
No, villain, no! hot satyr of the woods,
Expect another entertainment now. 
Behold revenge for injured chastity. 
This sword heaven draws against thee,
And here has placed me like a fiery cherub,
To guard this paradise from any second violation.

Fisc. We must dispatch him, sir, we have the odds; And when he’s killed, leave me t’invent the excuse.

Har.  Jun. Hold a little:  As you shunned fighting formerly with me, so would I now with you.  The mischiefs I have done are past recal.  Yield then your useless right in her I love, since the possession is no longer yours; so is your honour safe, and so is hers, the husband only altered.

Tow. You trifle; there’s no room for treaty here: 
The shame’s too open, and the wrong too great. 
Now all the saints in heaven look down to see
The justice I shall do, for ’tis their cause;
And all the fiends below prepare thy tortures.

Isab. If Towerson would, think’st thou my soul so poor,
To own thy sin, and make the base act mine,
By chusing him who did it?  Know, bad man,
I’ll die with him, but never live with thee.