The Crimes, new charg'd on the unhappy Youth
May have Revenge, and Malice, but no Truth.
Suppose the Accusation justly brought,
And clearly prov'd to the minutest fault,
Yet Mercy's next, to infinite abate,
Offences next, to infinitely Great:
And 'tis the Glory of a noble Mind,
In full Forgiveness not to be confin'd,
Your Prince's Frowns, if you have cause to fear,
This Act will more Illustrious appear;
Tho' his excuse can never be withstood,
Who disobeys, but only to be good.
Perhaps the hazard's more than you express;
The Glory would be, were the danger less.
For he, that to his prejudice will do
A noble Action, and a gen'rous too,
Deserves to wear a more resplendent Crown,
Than he, that has a thousand Battles won.
Do not invert Divine Compassion so,
As to be Cruel, or no Mercy show!
Of what Renown can such an Action be,
Which  my Husband's Life, but  me?
Tho' if you finally resolve to stand
Upon so vile, inglorious a Demand,
; if 'tis my Fate to mourn
His Death, I'll bathe with virtuous Tears his Urn.