Seb. I pardon thee the effects of doting age,
Vain doubts, and idle cares, and over-caution;
The second nonage of a soul more wise,
But now decayed, and sunk into the socket;
Peeping by fits, and giving feeble light.

Alv. Have you forgot?

Seb. Thou mean’st my father’s will,
In bar of marriage to Almeyda’s bed. 
Thou seest my faculties are still entire,
Though thine are much impaired.  I weighed that will,
And found ’twas grounded on our different faiths;
But, had he lived to see her happy change,
He would have cancelled that harsh interdict,
And joined our hands himself.

Alv. Still had he lived and seen this change, He still had been the same.

Seb. I have a dark remembrance of my father:  His reasonings and his actions both were just; And, granting that, he must have changed his measures.

Alv. Yes, he was just, and therefore could not change.

Seb. ’Tis a base wrong thou offer’st to the dead.

Alv. Now heaven forbid,
That I should blast his pious memory! 
No, I am tender of his holy fame;
For, dying, he bequeathed it to my charge. 
Believe, I am; and seek to know no more,
But pay a blind obedience to his will;
For, to preserve his fame, I would be silent.

Seb. Crazed fool, who would’st be thought an oracle,
Come down from off the tripos, and speak plain. 
My father shall be justified, he shall: 
’Tis a son’s part to rise in his defence,
And to confound thy malice, or thy dotage.

Alv. It does not grieve me, that you hold me crazed;
But, to be cleared at my dead master’s cost,
O there’s the wound! but let me first adjure you,
By all you owe that dear departed soul,
No more to think of marriage with Almeyda.

Seb. Not heaven and earth combined can hinder it.

Alv. Then witness heaven and earth, how loth I am
To say, you must not, nay, you cannot, wed: 
And since not only a dead father’s fame,
But more, a lady’s honour, must be touched,
Which, nice as ermines, will not bear a soil,
Let all retire, that you alone may hear
What even in whispers I would tell your ear. [All are going out.

Alm. Not one of you depart; I charge you, stay! 
And were my voice a trumpet loud as fame,
To reach the round of heaven, and earth, and sea,
All nations should be summoned to this place,
So little do I fear that fellow’s charge: 
So should my honour, like a rising swan,
Brush with her wings the falling drops away,
And proudly plough the waves.

Seb. This noble pride becomes thy innocence;
And I dare trust my father’s memory,
To stand the charge of that foul forging tongue.

Alv. It will be soon discovered if I forge. 
Have you not heard your father in his youth,
When newly married, travelled into Spain,
And made a long abode in Philip’s court?