Eliz monologue (Act 2) — The Saint's Tragedy

My Lords; Doubtless, you speak as your duty bids you: I know you love my husband: do you think My love is less than yours? 'Twas for his honour I dare not lose a single silly sheep Of all the flock which God had trusted to him. True, I had hoped by this--No matter what-- Since to your sense it bears a different hue. I keep no logic. For my gifts, thank God, They cannot be recalled; for those poor souls, My pensioners--even for my husband's knightly name, Oh! ask not back that slender loan of comfort My folly has procured them: if, my Lords, My public censure, or disgraceful penance May expiate, and yet confirm my waste, I offer this poor body to the buffets Of sternest justice: when I dared not spare My husband's lands, I dare not spare myself.