Both son and subject. I can do thee no wrong,
Nor hast thou right to arraign or punish me:
But thou inquir'st into thy father's years;
Thy swift ambition could not stay my death,
But must ride post to empire. Lead me now;
Thy crimes have made me guiltless to myself,
And given me face to bear the public scorn.
You have a guard without?

Fred. I have some friends.

Duke. Speak plainly your intent. I love not a sophisticated truth, With an allay of lie in't.

Fred. [Kneeling.] This is not, sir, the posture of a rebel,

But of a suppliant; if the name of son

Be too much honour to me.

What first I purpos'd, I scarce know myself.
Love, anger, and revenge, then rolled within me,
And yet, even then, I was not hurried farther
Than to preserve my own.

Duke. Your own! What mean you?

Fred. My love, and my Lucretia, which I thought, In my then boiling passion, you pursued With some injustice, and much violence; This led me to repel that force by force. Twas easy to surprise you, when I knew Of your intended visit.

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 [Kneeling.

duty,

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.
Aur. We shall obey you, madam; but that we
may do it with less regret, we hope you will give
these ladies leave to accompany us.

Soph. They shall.

And, nieces, for myself, I only ask you

To justify my conduct to the world,

That none may think I have betrayed a trust,

But freed you from a tyranny.

Lau. Our duty binds us to acknowledge it.
Cam. And our gratitude to witness it.

Vio. With a holy and lasting remembrance of your favour.

Fred. And it shall be my care, either by reason to bend your uncle's will, or, by my father's interest, to force your dowry from his hands.

Ben. [To AUR.] Pray, sir, let us make haste over these walls again; these gardens are unlucky to me; I have lost my reputation of music in one of them, and of wit in the other.

Aur. [To LAU.] Now, Laura, you may take your choice betwixt the two Benito's, and consider whether you had rather he should serenade you in the garden, or I in bed to-night.

Lau. You may be sure I shall give sentence for Benito; for the effect of your serenading would be to make me pay the music nine months hence.

Hip. [To Asca.] You see, brother, here's a general gaol-delivery: there has been a great deal of bustle and disturbance in the cloister to-night; enough to distract a soul which is given up, like me, to contemplation: and therefore, if you think fit, I could even be content to retire, with you, into the world; and, by way of penance, to marry you; which, as husbands and wives go now, is a greater mortification than a nunnery.

Asca. No, sister; if you love me, keep to your monastery: I'll come now and then to the grate, and beg you a recreation. But I know myself so well, that if I had you one twelvemonth in the world, I should run myself into a cloister, to be rid of you.

Soph. Nieces, once more farewell. Adieu, Lucretia: My wishes and my prayers attend you all.

Luc. to Fred. I am so fearful,

That, though I gladly run to your embraces,
Yet, venturing in the world a second time,
Methinks I put to sea in a rough storm,
With shipwrecks round about me.

Fred. My dear, be kinder to yourself and me, And let not fear fright back our coming joys; For we, at length, stand reconciled to fate: And now to fear, when to such bliss we move, Were not to doubt our fortune, but our love.

[Exeunt.