Part 26 (1/2)

_Ana._ I am with ye.

_Cler._ I'le know now who sleeps by me, keep your standing.

[_Ex._ Cler. _and_ Anabel.

_Lam._ Well, go thy way, and thine own shame dwell with thee.

Is this the constancy she shew'd, the bravery?

The dear love and the life she ow'd her kinsmen?

O brave tongue, valiant glorious woman!

Is this the n.o.ble anger you arriv'd at?

Are these the thieves you scorn'd, the rogues you rail'd at?

The scabs and sc.u.ms of nature? O fair modesty, Excellent vertue, whither art thou fled?

What hand O Heaven is over us, when strong virgins Yield to their fears, and to their fears their fortunes?

Never belief come near me more, farewel wench, A long farewel from all that ever knew thee: My turn is next, I am resolv'd, it comes But in a n.o.bler shape, ha?

_Enter_ Dinant.

_Din._ Blesse ye Lady.

_Lam._ Indeed Sir, I had need of many blessings, For all the hours I have had since I came here, Have been so many curses. How got you liberty?

For I presume you come to comfort me.

_Din._ To comfort you, and love you, 'tis most true, My bondage was as yours, as full of bitterness And every hour my death.

_Lam._ Heaven was your comfort.

_Din._ Till the last evening, sitting full of sadness, Wailing, sweet Mistris, your unhappy fortunes, (Mine own I had the least care of) round about me The Captain and the company stood gaping, When I began the story of my love To you fair Saint, and with so full a sorrow, Follow'd each point, that even from those rude eyes, That never knew what pity meant or mercy, There stole down soft relentings: take heed Mistris, And let not such unholy hearts outdo you, The soft plum'd G.o.d will see again; thus taken, As men transform'd with the strange tale I told, They stood amaz'd, then bid me rise and live, Take liberty and means to see your person, And wisht me prosperous in your love, wish you so, Be wise and loving Lady, shew but you so.

_Lam._ O Sir, are these fit hours to talk of love in?

Shall we make fools of our afflictions?

Can any thing sound sweetly in mine ears, Where all the noise of b.l.o.o.d.y horrour is?

My Brother, and my Cousin, they are dead Sir, Dead, basely dead, is this an age to fool in?

And I my self, I know not what I shall be, Yet I must thank you, and if happily You had ask'd me yesterday, when these were living, And my fears less, I might have hearkned to you.

_Din._ Peace to your grief, I bind you to your word.

_Enter_ Cleremont, Anabel, Beaupre, Verdone, Charlote, _Nurse, the two Gentlemen._

_Lam._ How? do you conjure?

_Din._ Not to raise dreadfull apparitions, Madam, But such as you would gladly see.

_Lam._ My Brother, and nephew living?