Heaven defend me from him!
_Gons_. Why, madam, can you doubt a rudeness from me?
Your very fears and griefs create an awe,
Such majesty they bear; methinks, I see
Your soul retired within her inmost chamber.
Like a fair mourner sit in state, with all
The silent pomp of sorrow round about her.
_Man_. Your language does express a man, bred up
To worthier ways than those you follow now.
_Gons_. What does he mean? [_Aside_.
_Man_. If (as it seems) you love; love is a passion,
Which kindles honour into noble acts:
Restore my sister's liberty; oblige her,
And see what gratitude will work.
_Gons_. All this is stranger yet.
_Man_. Whate'er a brother's power
To-morrow can do for you, claim it boldly.
_Gons_. I know not why you think yourselves my prisoners;
This lady's freedom is a thing too precious
To be disposed by any but herself:
But value this small service as you please,
Which you reward too prodigally, by
Permitting me to pay her more.
_Jul_. Love from an outlaw? from a villain, love?
If I have that power on thee, thou pretend'st,
Go and pursue thy mischiefs, but presume not
To follow me:--Come, brother. [_Ex_. Jul. _and_ Man.
_Gons_. Those foul names of outlaw and of villain
I never did deserve: They raise my wonder.
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