_Pal._ Manuel, forbear; thee I confess I wronged: For the rest thy taunts are vain.
_Man._ Wait: there is more.— Thy refuge being discovered, I was charged With treason, and in course shipped hence for Spain. My ship was sunk, and I, but for God’s mercy, Drowned. My disgrace and rumoured death so wrought On Constance, that she lies in life’s last hope. 2350 To all of us thou hast done unmeasured ill: What is thy plea?
_Pal._ Though God himself should curse me, My purpose hath been good.
_Man._ Ay, that I’ll grant: Thou’rt for the right, but being too hot upon it Mistakest right. Thou art numbered with the madmen Who, thinking the whole world’s unhappiness Hangs on one string, tread all else underfoot So they may reach to cut it.—And where’s the good? Thyself, too, in what plight, that after all This sacrifice of others’ rights, thou rushest 2360 To die to save thine honour from a stain, That needs no washing!
_Pal._ Enough: there let it end: I die to-morrow.
_Man._ Nay, thou must escape: Retrieve all that thou canst. I now shall go To Margaret, whom before I feared to meet. She will be working for thee. If she fail, The archbishop yet hath power to stay thy death Till I can serve thee. If thy love for her, And hers for thee abide, you must be married. Nay, all she urged was good.
_Pal._ O, ’tis impossible. 2370 Work not for my escape: ’tis best I die.
_Man._ Nay, nay. Thou that canst fight, fight with thyself. The brave despair that fear not: that’s the shock The strongest suffer. Thou wast ill of late; Wert thou now strong, shame would not crush thy spirit. [_Going._
_Man._ Yes, I must go. Remember My name is Father Thomas. None must guess Who hath been with thee.—Farewell. Fight with thyself; Palicio, with thyself. Thou shalt be saved. [_Exit._
Three hours have fully passed since first I marked 2380 Yon grated hole grow rosy, and exchange Moonlight for dawn. Now soon will Margaret come: And I must go forth to the world disgraced, To fly my country or hide: ay, at the cue Of the chief justiciary, led by a woman. Hast thou the heart, Giovann Palicio, To call this freedom. Nay, since thy right hand Was raised ’gainst wrong in vain, and thou thyself Art charged with wrong, and must admit the wrong, Were’t not now best to end, and shroud thy fortune In veils of death? Thou that hast led the people, 2391 Hast thou a knee for favours? Will thy tongue Confess I wronged thee, Manuel, I come forth To be thy prisoner: and I wronged thee, Margaret: I will come forth to be thy pensioner? Shame: rather would I die.