_Enter_ Octavio, Jacintha, _and_ Ascanio.
_Octa_.
We cited to the Court!
{_A Bar, Table-book, 2 Chairs, and Paper, standish set out.
_Jac_.
It is my wonder.
_Octa_.
But not our fear, _Jacintha_; wealthy men,
That have Estates to lose; whose conscious thoughts
Are full of inward guilt, may shake with horrour
To have their Actions sifted, or appear
Before the Judge. But we that know our selves
As innocent, as poor, that have no Fleece
On which the Talons of the griping Law
Can take sure hold, may smile with scorn on all
That can be urg'd against us.
_Jac_.
I am confident
There is no man so covetous, that desires
To ravish our wants from us, and less hope
There can be so much Justice left on earth,
(T[h]ough sued, and call'd upon) to ease us of
The burthen of our wrongs.
_Octa_.
What thinks _Ascanio_?
Should we be call'd in question, or accus'd
Unjustly, what would you do to redeem us
From tyrannous oppression?
_Asc_.
I could pray
To him that ever has an open ear,
To hear the innocent, and right their wrongs;
Nay, by my troth, I think I could out-plead
An Advocate, and sweat as much as he
Do's for a double Fee, ere you should suffer
In an honest cause.
_Enter_ Jamie _and_ Bartolus.
_Octa_.
Happy simplicitie!
_Jac_.
My dearest and my best one, _Don Jamie_.
_Octa_.
And the Advocate, that caus'd us to be summon'd.
_Asc_.
My Lord is mov'd, I see it in his looks,
And that man, in the Gown, in my opinion
Looks like a proguing Knave.
_Jac_.
Peace, give them leave.
_Jam_.
Serve me with Process?
_Bar_.
My Lord, you are not lawless.
_Jam_.
Nor thou honest;
One, that not long since was the buckram Scribe,
That would run on mens errands for an Asper,
And from such baseness, having rais'd a Stock
To bribe the covetous Judge, call'd to the Bar.
So poor in practice too, that you would plead
A needy Clyents Cause, for a starv'd Hen,
Or half a little Loin of Veal, though fly-blown,
And these, the greatest Fees you could arrive at
For just proceedings; but since you turn'd Rascal--
_Bar_.
Good words, my Lord.
_Jam_.
And grew my Brothers Bawd,
In all his vitious courses, soothing him
In his dishonest practises, you are grown
The rich, and eminent Knave, in the Devils name,
What am I cited for?
_Bar_.
You shall know anon,
And then too late repent this bitter language,
Or I'll miss of my ends.
_Jam_.
Were't not in Court,
I would beat that fat of thine, rais'd by the food
Snatch'd from poor Clyents mouths, into a jelly:
I would (my man of Law) but I am patient,
And would obey the Judge.
_Bar_.
'Tis your best course:
Would every enemy I have would beat me,
I would wish no better Action.
_Octa_.
'Save your Lordship.
_Asc_.
My humble service.
_Jam_.
My good Boy, how dost thou?
Why art thou call'd into the Court?
_Enter_ Assistant, Henrique, Officer, _and_ Witnesses.
_Asc_.
I know not,
But 'tis my Lord the Assistants pleasure
I should attend here.
_Jam_.
He will soon resolve us.
_Offi_.
Make way there for the Judge.
_Jam_.
How? my kind Brother?
Nay then 'tis rank: there is some villany towards.
_Assist_.
This Sessions purchas'd at your suit, _Don Henrique_,
Hath brought us hither, to hear and determine
Of what you can prefer.
_Hen_.
I do beseech
The honourable Court, I may be heard
In my Advocate.
_Assist_.
'Tis granted.
_Bar_.
Humh, humh.
_Jam_.
That Preface,
If left out in a Lawyer, spoils the Cause,
Though ne're so good, and honest.
_Bar_.
If I stood here,
To plead in the defence of an ill man,
(Most equal Judge) or to accuse the innocent
(To both which, I profess my self a stranger)
It would be requisite I should deck my Language
With Tropes and Figures, and all flourishes
That grace a Rhetorician, 'tis confess'd
Adulterate Metals need the Gold-smiths Art,
To set 'em off; what in it self is perfect
Contemns a borrowed gloss: this Lord (my Client)
Whose honest cause, when 'tis related truly,
Will challenge justice, finding in his Conscience
A tender scruple of a fault long since
By him committed, thinks it not sufficient
To be absolv'd of't by his Confessor,
If that in open Court he publish not
What was so long conceal'd.
_Jam_.
To what tends this?
_Bar_.
In his young years (it is no miracle
That youth, and heat of blood, should mix together)
He look'd upon this woman, on whose face
The ruines yet remain, of excellent form,
He look'd on her, and lov'd her.
_Jac_.
You good Angels,
What an impudence is this?
_Bar_.
And us'd all means
Of Service, Courtship, Presents, that might win her
To be at his devotion: but in vain;
Her Maiden Fort, impregnable held out,
Until he promis'd Marriage; and before
These Witnesses a solemn Contract pass'd
To take her as his Wife.
_Assist_.
Give them their Oath.
_Jam_.
They are incompetent Witnesses, his own Creatures,
And will swear any thing for half a Royal.
_Offi_.
Silence.
_Assist_.
Proceed.
_Bar_.
Upon this strong assurance
He did enjoy his wishes to the full,
Which satisfied, and then with eyes of Judgement
(Hood-wink'd with Lust before) considering duly
The inequality of the Match, he being
Nobly descended, and allyed, but she
Without a name, or Family, secretly
He purchas'd a Divorce, to disanul
His former Contract, Marrying openly
The Lady _Violante_.
_Jac_.
As you sit here
The Deputy of the great King, who is
The Substitute of that impartial Judge,
With whom, or wealth, or titles prevail nothing,
Grant to a much wrong'd Widow, or a Wife
Your patience, with liberty to speak
In her own Cause, and let me face to face
To this bad man, deliver what he is:
And if my wrongs, with his ingratitude ballanc'd,
Move not compassion, let me die unpitied;
His Tears, his Oaths, his Perjuries, I pass o're;
To think of them is a disease; but death
Should I repeat them. I dare not deny,
(For Innocence cannot justifie what's false)
But all the Advocate hath alledged concerning
His falshood, and my shame, in my consent,
To be most true: But now I turn to thee,
To thee _Don Henrique_, and if impious Acts
Have left thee blood enough to make a blush,
I'le paint it on thy cheeks. Was not the wrong
Sufficient to defeat me of mine honour,
To leave me full of sorrow, as of want,
The witness of thy lust left in my womb,
To testifie thy falshood, and my shame?
But now so many years I had conceal'd
Thy most inhumane wickedness, and won
This Gentleman, to hide it from the world,
To Father what was thine (for yet by Heaven,
Though in the City he pass'd for my husband,
He never knew me as his wife.)
_Assist_.
'Tis strange:
Give him an Oath.
_Oct_.