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?

_Seb._ Why so remote a question, which thyself
Can answer to thyself? for thou wert with him,
His favourite, as I oft have heard thee boast,
And nearest to his soul.

_Alv._ Too near, indeed; forgive me, gracious heaven,
That ever I shou