University of Virginia Library

ACT. IV.

SCEN. I.

Enter Lord Beaufort and Lovis.
Lovis.
Farewell, my Lord, I'le to my Friend declare
How gen'rous you in your acceptance were.

Beauf.
My Honour is as forward as my Love,
On equal wings of jealousie they move:
I to my Rival will in neither yield;
I've won the Chamber, and will win the Field.

Lovis.
Your Emulation, Sir, is swoln so high,
You may be worthy of his Victory:
You'l meet with Honour blown, not in the bud,
Whose Root was fed with vast expense of blood.

[Ex. Lovis.
Enter Sir Frederick.
Sir Fred.
What, my Lord, as studious as a Country
Vicar on a Saturday in the afternoon?
I thought you had been ready for the Pulpit.

Beauf.
I am not studying of speeches for my Mistress;
'Tis action that I now am thinking on,
Wherein there's Honour to be gain'd;
And you, Cousin, are come luckily to share it.

Sir Fred.
On my life a Prize to be playd for your Mistress:
I had notice of your Quarrel, which brought me
Hither so early with my Sword to serve you.
But dares so zealous a Lover as your Lordship
Break the commandment of your Mistress? I heard,
Poor Lady, she wept, and charg'd you to sleep
In a whole skin; but young men never know
When th'are well.

Beau.
Cousin, my love to her cannot make me forget my duty
To my Family.

Sir Fred.
Pray whose body must I exercise my skill
Upon?

Beauf.
You met the man; Graciana's Brother.

Sir Fred.
An expert Gentleman, and I have not
Fenc'd of late, unless it were with my
Widows Maids; and they are e'en too hard
For me at my own weapon.

Beauf.
Cousin, 'tis time we were preparing for the
Field.

Sir Fred.
I wait to serve you, Sir.

Beauf.
But yet with grief, Graciana, I must go,
Since I your Brother there shall meet my Foe:
My fate too near resembles theirs where he
Did wound himself that hurt his Enemy.

[Exeunt.

SCEN. II.

Enter Wheadle, and Palmer dress'd like the Lord Bevil.
Whead.
So, my Proteus, exactly dress'd!
Dexterous Rogue! Is Grace ready in her Geers, and
Settl'd in my Lady Dawbwells house?

Palm.
Every trap is baited.

Whead.
I'le warrant thee then we catch our Cully:
He's gone to put himself into a fantastick
Garb, in imitation of Sir Frederick Frollick;
He's almost frantick with the very conceit
Of gaining the rich Widow. But heark, I
Hear him coming; slip down the back way,
And to your charge.

[Exit Palmer.
Enter Cully.
Sir Nich.
Wheadle, and what think you of this
Habit? is it not very modish?

Whead.
As any man need wear: How did you
Furnish your self so suddenly?

Sir Nich.
Suddenly? I protest I was at least at
Sixteen Broakers, before I cou'd put my self
Exactly into the fashion; but now I defie
Sir Frederick; I am as fine as he, and will be as mad
As he, if that will carry the Widow, I'le warrant
Thee.

Whead.
Is it not better pushing thus for a Fortune,
Before your Reputation's blasted
With the infamous names of Coward and Gamester?
And so become able to pay the thousand pounds without noise,
Then going into the Country, selling your Land,
Making a havock among your Woods, or mortgaging
Your Estate to a scrupulous Scrivener, that will
Whisper it iuto the ears of the whole Town,
By inquiring of your good behaviour?

Sir Nich.
Excellent Wheadle! And will my Lord
Bevill speak my commendations to his
Sister?

Whead.
She is impatient till she see you, Sir;
For in my hearing, upon the account I gave him
Of you, he told her you were the prettiest, wittest,
Wildest Gentleman about the Town, and a Cavalier
In your heart; The only things that take her.

Sir Nich.
Wheadle, come, I will go to the Tavern,
And swallow two whole quarts of Wine
Instantly, and when I am drunk
Ride on a Drawers back to visit her.

Whead.
Some less Frollick to begin with.

Sir Nich.
I will cut three Drawers over the pate then,
And go with a Tavern-Lanthorn before me at noon-day.
Come away.

[Exeunt, Cully singing.

SCEN. III.

Enter Palmer and Grace.
Palm.
Do not I look like a very Reverend Lord,
Grace?

Grace.
And I like a very fine Lady, Mr Palmer?

Palm.
Yes in good faith, Grace; what a rogue is that
Wheadle, to have kept such a Treasure to himself,
Without communicating a little to his Friends?

[Offers to kiss her.
Grace.
Forbear; you'l be out in your Part,
My Lord, when Sir Nich'las comes.

Palm.
The truth is, my Lady, I am better
Prepar'd at this time to act a Lover then
A Relation.

Grace.
That grave dress is very amorous indeed.

Palm.
My Virtues, like those of Plants in the Winter,
Are retir'd; your warm Spring
Wou'd fetch 'em out with a vengeance.

Enter Jenny in haste.
Jenny.
Mr Wheadle and Sr Nich'las are come.

Palm.
Away, away then, Sister; expect your Kew.

Enter Wheadle, and Sir Nicholas, kicking a Tavern boy before him, who has three Bottles of Wine on a Roap hanging at his back.
Gul.
singing.
Then march along, Boys; valiant and strong, Boys.
So, lay down the Bottles here.

Whead.
My Lord, this is the worthy Gentleman
That I told you was
Ambitious to be your Sisters Servant.

Cul.
Hither I am come, my Lord, to drink
Your Sisters Health, without offence, I hope.

Palm.
You are heartily welcome, Sir.

Cul.
Here's a Brimmer then to her, and all the
Fleas about her.

Palm.
Sir, I'le call her self to pledg it.

Cul.
Stay, stay, my Lord, that you may
Be able to tell her you have drunk it.

[Palmer drinks and exit.
Cul.
Wheadle, how do you like this?
[Draws his Sword.
Shall I break the Windows?

Whead.
Hold, hold; you are not in a
House of evil reputation.

Cul.
Well admonish'd, Sir Frederick Frollick.

Enter Palmer and Grace.
Palm.
This is Sir Nich'las, Sister.

Cul.
I, Madam, I am Sir Nich'las, and how do you like me?

Grace.
A pretty Gentleman.
Pray, Sir, are you come a House-warming,
That you bring your Wine with you?

Cul.
If you ask such pert Questions,
Madam, I can stop your mouth.
[Kisses her.
Hither I am come to be drunk,
That you may see me drunk; and
Here's a Health to your Flanel Petticoat.

[Drinks.
Grace.
Mr Wheadle, my service to you; a Health
[She drinks part.
To Sr Nich'las's great Grand-father's Beard-brush.

Cul.
Nay, pledg me; ha—

Grace.
You are not quarrelsom in your drink,
I hope, Sir.

Cul.
No, faith; I am wond'rous loving.

[Huggs her.
Grace.
You are a very bold Lover.

Cul.
Widow, let you and I go upon the ramble
To night.

Grace.
Do you take me for a Night-walker, Sir?

Cul.
Thou shalt be witness how many Constables
Staves I'le break about the Watchmens ears;
How many Bell-men I'le rob of their Verses,
To furnish a little Appartment in the back side
Of my Lodging.

Grace.
I believe y'are an excellent man at
Quarter-staff, Sir.

Cul.
The odds was on my head against any Warrener
In all our Country; but I have left it off this
Two year. My Lord, what say you, Do you think
Your Sister and I shou'd not furnish a Bed-chamber
As well as two soberer people? what think you, my Lord?

Grace.
I, and a Nursery too, I hope, Sir.

Cul.
Well said, Widow, i'faith; I will get upon thy body
A generation of wild Cats, children that shall
Waw, waw, scratch their Nurses, and be drunk
With their sucking-bottles.

Whead.
Brave Sir Nich'las.

Cul.
Wheadle, give me a Brimmer; the Widow
Shall drink it to our Progeny.
Where, where is she gone?

[Exit Grace.
Palm.
You have frighted her hence, Sir.

Cul.
I'le fright her worse, if I find her in a corner.
Ha, Widow, I'le follow you; I'le follow you, ha.

Whead.
The Wine makes the Rogue witty; he
Over-acts the Part I gave him;
Sir Fredrick is not half so mad: I will keep
Him thus elevated till he has married Grace,
And we have the best part of his Estate at our mercy.

Palm.
Most ingenious Wheadle!

Whead.
I was not born to ease nor Acres;
Industry is all my stock of living.

[The women shriek within.
Palm.
Hark, he puts them to the squeek.

Whead.
We must go and take him off; he's as fierce
As a Bandog that has newly broke his chain.

[Exeunt laughing.

SCEN. IV.

Scene, A Field.
Enter Bruce and Lovis, and traverse the Stage.
Then enter four or five men in disguises.
1 Man.
This way they went; besure you kill the Villain;
Let pity be a stranger to your breasts.

2 Man.
We have been bred, you know, unacquainted with
Compassion.

3 Man.
But why, Colonel, shou'd you so eagerly
Pursue his life? he has the report of
A gallant Man.

1 Man.
He murder'd my Father.

3 Man.
I have heard he kill'd him fairly in
The Field at Nasby.

1 Man.
He kill'd him, that's enough; and I my self.
Was witness: I accus'd him to the
Protector, and subborn'd Witness
To have taken away his life by form
Of Law; but my Plot was discover'd, and
He yesterday releas'd; since which I've
Watch'd an opportunity, without the
Help of seeming Justice, for my Revenge.
Strike home.—

3 Man.
We are your hired slaves; and since
You'l have it so, we'l shed his blood,
And never spare our own.

[Exeunt, drawing their Swords.
Enter Beaufort and Sir Frederick, and traverse the Stage.
Enter Bruce and Lovis at another door.
Bruce.
Your Friendship, noble Youth, 's too prodigal;
For one already lost you venture all;
Your present happiness, your future joy;
You for the hopeless your great hopes destroy.

Lovis.
What can I venture for so brave a friend?
I have no hopes but what on you depend.
Shou'd I your Friendship and my Honour rate
Below the value of a poor Estate,
A heap of dirt! Our Family has been
To blame, my blood most here atone the sin.
Enter the five Villains with drawn Swords.
Heav'ns! what is there an Ambuscado laid!
Draw, dearest Friend, I fear we are betray'd.

1 Vill.
Bruce, look on me, and then prepare to die.

[Pulling off his Vizard.
Bruce.
O Treacherous Villain!

I Vill.
Fall on, and sacrifice his blood to my Revenge.

Lovis.
More hearts then one shall bleed, if he must die.

[They fight.
Enter Beaufort and Sir Frederick.
Beauf.
Heav'ns! what's this I see! Sir Fredrick, draw;
Their blood's too good to grace such
Villains Swords. Courage, brave men; now
We can match their Force.

Lovis.
We'l make you, slaves, repent
[The Villains run.
This Treachery.

Beauf.
So.

Bruce.
They are not worth pursuit; we'l let them go.
Brave men! this action makes it well appear
'Tis Honour and not Envy brings you here.

Beauf.
We come to conquer, Bruce, and not to see
Such Villains rob us of our Victory.
Your lives our fatal swords claim as their due;
W'ad wrong'd our selves had we not righted you.

Bruce.
Your gen'rous courage has oblig'd us so,
That to your succour we our safety owe.

Lovis.
Y'ave done what men of Honour ought to do,
What in your cause we wou'd have done for you.

Beauf.
You speak the truth, w'ave but our duty done;
Prepare: Duty's no obligation.

[He strips.
Bruce.
My Honour is dis-satisfi'd; I must,
[Lovis and Sir Frederick strip.
My Lord, consider whether it be just
To draw my Sword against that life which gave
Mine, but e'en now, protection from the grave.

Beauf.
None come into the Field to weigh what's right;
This is no place for Councel, but for Fight.
Dispatch.

Bruce.
I am resolv'd I will not fight.

Beauf.
Did I come hither then only to fright
A company of fearful slaves away;
My Courage stoops not at so mean a prey:
Know, Bruce, I hither come to shed thy blood.

Bruce.
Open this bosom, and let out a flood.

Beauf.
I come to Conquer bravely in the Field,
Not to take poor revenge on such as yield.
Has nothing pow'r, too backward man, to move
Thy Courage? Think on thy neglected Love:
Think on the beauteous Graciana's Eyes;
'Tis I have robb'd thee of that glorious prize.

Br.
There are such charms in Graciana's Name,
[Strips hastily.
My scrup'lous Honour must obey my Flame:
My lazy Courage I with shame condemn:
No thoughts have power streams of blood to stem.

Sir Fred.
Come, Sir, out of kindness to our Friends
You and I must pass a small complement
On each other.

[They all fight.
Beaufort after many Passes closes with Bruce; they fall; Beaufort disarms him.
Beauf.
Here, live.

[Giving Bruce his Sword again.
Bruce.
My Lord, y'ave gain'd a perfect Victory;
Y'ave vanquish'd and oblig'd your enemy.

Beauf.
Hold, gallant men.

[Bruce and Beaufort part Lovis and Sir Fred.
Lovis.
Before we bleed! Do we here fight a Prize,
Where handsom proffers may for Wounds suffice?
I am amaz'd! What means this bloodless Field?

Bruce.
The stoutest heart must to his fortune yield.
Brave Youth! here Honour did with Courage vie;
[To Beauf.
And both agree to grace your Victory.
Heave with such a Conquest favours few:
'Tis easier to destroy then to subdue.
Our bodies may by bruitish force be kill'd;
But noble Minds alone to Virtue yield.
My Lord, I've twice receiv'd my life from you;
Much is to both those gen'rous actions due:
The noble Giver I must highly prize,
Though I the Gift, heav'n knows, as much despise.
Can I desire to live, when all the Joy
Of my poor life its Ransom does destroy!
No, no, Graciana's loss I'le ne'r survive;
I pay too dear for this unsought Reprieve.

[Falls on his Sword, and is desperately wounded.
Beauf.
Hold gallant man! Honour her self does bleed;
[Running to him, takes him in his arms.
All gen'rous hearts are wounded by this deed.

Lovis.
He does his blood for a lost Mistress spend;
And shall not I bleed for so brave a Friend?

[Lovis offers to fall on his Sword, but is hindred by Sir Frederick.
Sir Fred.
Forbear, Sir; the Frollick's not to go round, as I
Take it.

Beauf.
'Twere greater Friendship to assist me here:
I hope the wound's not mortal, though I fear—

Bruce.
My Sword, I doubt, has fail'd in my relief;
'Thas made a vent for blood, but not for grief.
[Bruce strugling, Lovis and Sr Fred. help to hold him.
Let me once more the unkind Weapon try.
Will you prolong my pain? oh cruelty!

Lovis.
Ah, dearest Bruce, can you thus careless be
Of our great friendship, and your Loyalty!
Look on your Friend; your drooping Country view;
And think how much they both expect from you.
You for a Mistress waste that precious blood
Which shou'd be spent but for our Masters good.

Sir Fred.
Expence of blood already makes him faint;
Let's carry him to the next house, till we can
Procure a chair to convey him to my Lord Bevill's,
The best place for accommodation.

[They all take him up.
Beauf.
Honour has plaid an after-game; this Field
The Conq'rour does unto the Conquer'd yield,

[Exeunt.

SCEN. V.

Enter Graciana weeping.
Grac.
Farewel all thoughts of happiness, farewell:
My fears together with my sorrows swell:
Whilst from my eyes there flows this Christal flood,
From their brave hearts there flows such streams of blood.
Here I am lost, while both for me contend;
With what success can this strange Combate end!
Honour with Honour fights for Victory,
And Love is made the common enemy.

Enter Lord Bevill.
L. Bevill
weeping.
Ah, Child!—

Grac.
Kill me not with expectation, Sir.

L. Bev.
The gen'rous Bruce has kill'd himself
For you: Being disarm'd, and at his Rival's mercy,
His Life and Sword were given him by the
Noble Youth; He made a brave acknowledgment
For both; but then considering you were lost,
He scorn'd to live; and falling on his Sword,
Has giv'n himself a mortal wound.
[Exit L. Bevill.

Enter Aurelia weeping.
Aurel.
Cruel Graciana, Go but in and see
The fatal Tryumph of your Victory.
The Noble Bruce, to your eternal shame,
With his own blood has quench'd his raging flame.

Grac.
weeping.
My carriage shall in these misfortunes prove
That I have Honour too, as well as Love.

Aurel.
aside.
Thy sorrows, sad Aurelia, will declare
At once, I fear, thy Love and thy Despair:
These streams of grief straight to a flood will rise;
I can command my Tongue, but not my eyes.
Exit Aurel.

Grac.
In what a Maze, Graciana, dost thou tread!
Which is the Path that doth to Honour lead?
I in this Lab'rynth so resolve to move,
That none shall judg I am misled by Love.

Enter Beaufort.
Beauf.
Here Conq'rours must forget their Victories,
And homage pay to your victorious Eyes.
Graciana, hither your poor slave is come,
After his Conquest to receive his doom;
Smile on his Vict'ry; had he prov'd untrue
To Honour, he had then prov'd false to you.

Grac.
Perfidious man, can you expect from me
An approbation of your Treacherie!
When I, distracted with prophetick fears,
Blasted with sighs, and almost drown'd in tears,
Begg'd you to moderate your Rage last night;
Did you not promise me you wou'd not fight?
Go now and triumph in your Victory;
Into the Field you went my Enemy,
And are return'd the only man I hate,
The wicked instrument of my sad fate.
My Love has but dissembled been to thee,
To try my gen'rous Lover's constancy.
[Exit Graciana.

Beauf.
Oh Heav'n! how strange and cruel is my fate!
Preserv'd by Love, to be destroy'd by Hate!
[Exit Beaufort.

SCEN. VI.

Scene, The Widows House.
Enter Betty and Lettice, the two Chamber-maids, severally.
Betty.
Oh, Lettice, we have staid for you.

Lett.
What hast thou done to the French-man,
Girl? he lies yonder neither dead nor drunk;
No body knows what to make of him.

Betty.
I sent for thee to help make sport with him;
He'l come to himself, never fear him:
Have you not observ'd how scurvily h'as look'd
Of late?

Lett.
Yes; and he protests it is for love of you.

Betty.
Out upon him, for a dissembling Rascal;
H'as got the foul Disease;
Our Coachman discover'd it by a Bottle of Diet
Drink he brought and hid behind the stairs, into which
I infus'd a little Opium.

Lett.
What dost intend to do with him?

Betty.
You shall see.

Enter Coach-man, with a Tub without a bottom, a shut at the top to be lock'd, and a hole to put ones head out at, made easie to be born on ones shoulders.
Coach-m.
Here's the Tub; where's the French-man?

Betty.
He lies behind the stairs; haste and bring him in,
That he may take quiet possession of this wooden Tenement;
For 'tis neer his time of waking.
The Coach-man and another Servant bring in Dufoy, and put him into the Tub.
Is the Fidler at hand that us'd to ply at the blind
Ale-house?

Coach-m.
He's ready.

Enter a Fidler.
Betty.
Well, let's hear now what a horrible noise you
Can make to wake this Gentleman.

[Fidler plays a Tune.
Lett.
He wants a helping hand; his eye-lids
[Dufoy begins to wake.
Are seal'd up; see how the wax sticks upon 'em.
Let me help you, Monsieur.

Dufoy.
Vat aré you? Jernie! vat is dis! am I
Jack in a boxé? begar, who did putté
Me here?

Betty.
Good-morrow, Monsieur; will you be pleas'd
To take your Pills this morning?

Dufoy.
Noé; but I vo'd have de diable take youé;
It vas youé dat did abusé me duss, vas
It noté? begar I vil killé ale de
Shamber-maid in Englandé.

Lett.
Will you be pleas'd to drink, Monsieur?
There's a Bottle of your Diet-drink within.

Dufoy.
Are youé de littel diable come to tormenté mé?
Morbleu? vas ever man afronté in dis naturé!

Betty.
Me-thinks he has ferbon, mine Monsieur,
Now if you please to make your little Addressé,
And your amouré, you will not find me so coy.

Dufoy.
Begar I vil no marié de cousin Germain
Of de diable.

Lett.
What shou'd he do with a Wife? he has not
House-room for her.

Betty.
Why do you not keep your head within
Doors, Monsieur?

Lett.
Now there's such a storm abroad.

Dufoy.
Why did not youé keep your Maiden-headé
Vid in dooré? begar, tellé me daté.

Coach-m.
Have you any fine French Commodities to sell,
Gloves and Ribbands? y'ave got
A very convenient shop, Monsieur.

Dufoy.
I do hope you vil have de verié
Convenient halteré, begar.
Jerny, Can I not taré dis tingé in de pieces?

Betty.
You begin to sweat, Monsieur; the Tub is
Proper for you.

Dufoy.
I have no more patiencé;
I vil breaké dis prison, or I vil breaké
My neké, and ye shall alé be hangé.

[Struggles to get out.
Lett.
He begins to rave; bless the poor man.

Betty.
Some Musique quickly, to
Compose his mind.
[The Musique plays; and they Dance about him.
How prettily the snail carries his Tenement
[He walks with the Tub on his back.
On his back! I'm sorry I am but his Mistress:
If I had been your Wife, Monsieur, I had made
You a compleat snail; your horns
Shou'd have appear'd.

Dufoy.
I vil have de patience, dere is no oder remedé;
You be alé de Raskalé Whore; de diable
Take you alé; and I vil say no more, begar.

Betty.
This is a very fine Vessel, and wou'd swim well;
Let's to the Horse-pond with him.

Lett.
Come, come, he looks as sullenly as a Hare
In her Form; let's leave him.

Coachm.
Your Serviteur tres humble, Monsieur.

[Exeunt all but Dufoy.
Dufoy.
Bougré, I canno hangé my selfé; begar I canno
Drowné my selfé; I vil go hidé my selfé,
And starvé to dyé; I vil no be de laughé
For every Jackanapé Englishé. Morbleu.

SCEN. VII.

Sir Frederick is brought in upon a Bier, with a mourning Cloth over him, attended by a Gentleman in a mourning Cloak: Four Fidlers carry the Corps, with their Instruments tuck'd under their Cloaks.
Enter the Widow weeping.
Mourner.
Madam, you must expect a bloody consequence
When men of such prodigious courage fight.
The young Lord Beaufort was the first that fell,
After his Sword too deeply had engag'd
His Rival not to stay behind him long.
Sir Frederick with your Nephew bravely fought;
Death long did keep his distance, as if he
Had fear'd excess of Valour; but when they,
Oreloaded with their wounds, began to faint,
He with his terrours did invade their breasts.
Fame soon brought many to the Tragick place,
Where I found my dearest Friend, Sir Fred'rick,
Almost as poor in breath as blood:
He took me by the hand, and all the stock h'ad left
He spent, Madam, in calling upon you.
He first proclaim'd your Virtues, then his Love;
And having charg'd me to convey his Corps hither
To wait on you, his latest breath expir'd with
The Command.

Wid.
The World's too poor to recompense this loss.
Unhappy woman! why shou'd I survive
The only man in whom my joys did live?
My dreadful grief!

[The Fidlers prepare.
Enter Dufoy in his Tub.
Dufoy.
Oh my Matré, my Matré; who has kill my
Matré? Morbleu, I vil—
[The Widow shrieks, and runs out: All the Fidlers run out in a fright.
Oh, de diablé, de diable!

[Sir Frederick starts up, which frights Dufoy.
Sir Fred.
What devilish accident is
This? or has the Widow undermin'd me?

Enter the Widow and her Maid laughing.
Sir Fred.
I shall be laugh'd to death now indeed,
By Chamber-maids; why have you no
Pity, Widow?

Wid.
None at all for the living; Ha, ha, ha.
You see w'are provided for your Frollick, Sir; ha, ha.

Sir Fred.
Laugh but one minute longer I will foreswear
Thy company, kill thy Tabby Cat, and make thee weep
For ever after.

Wid.
Farewell, Sir; expect at night to see the old
Man, with his paper Lanthorn and crack'd
Spectacles, singing your woful Tragedy
To Kitchin-maids and Coblers Prentices.

[Widow offers to go, Sir Frederick holds her by the arm.
Sir Fred.
Hark you, hark you, Widow:
By all those Devils that have
Hitherto possess'd thy Sex—

Wid.
No swearing, good Sir Fred'rick.

Sir Fred.
Set thy face then; let me not see the remains
Of one poor smile: So, now I will kiss thee,
And be friends.
[Widow falls out a laughing.
Not all thy wealth shall hire me to
Come within smell of thy breath again.
Jealousie, and, which will be worse for thee, Widow, Impotence
Light upon me, if I stay one moment longer with thee.

[Offers to go.
Wid.
Do you hear, Sir; can you be so angry with one
That loves you so passionately she cannot survive
You?

Sir Fred.
Widow, May the desire of man keep thee
Waking till thou art as mad as I am.
[Exit Sir Frederick.

Wid.
How lucky was this accident!
How he wou'd have insulted
Over my weakness else!
Sir Frederick, since I've warning, you shall prove
More subtill ways, before I owne my Love.

[Exeunt.