University of Virginia Library

Actus Primus.

Scena Prima.

Enter Dinant and Cleremont.
Din.
Disswade me not.

Clere.
It will breed a braule.

Din.
I care not, I weare a Sword.

Cler.
And weare discretion with it,
Or cast it off, let that direct your arme,
'Tis madnesse els, not valour, and more base
Then to receive a wrong.

Din.
Why would you have me
Sit downe with a disgrace, and thanke the doer?
We are not Stoicks, and that passive courage
Is onely now, commendable in Lackies,
Peasants, and Tradesemen, not in men of ranke,
And qualitie, as I am.

Cler.
Doe not cherish
That daring vice, for which the whole age suffers
The blood of our bold youth, that heretofore
Was spent in honourable action,
Or to defend, or to enlarge the Kingdome,
For the honour of our Countrey, and our Prince,
Poures it selfe out, with prodigall expence
Upon our Mothers lap, the Earth that bred us
For every trifle, and these private Duells,
Which had their first originall from the French;
(And for which, to this day, we are justly censured)
And banisht from all civill Governments
Scarce three in Venice, in as many yeares;
In Florence, they are rarer, and in all
The faire Dominions of the Spanish King,
They are never heard of: Nay, those neighbour Countries,
Which gladly imitate our other follies,
And come at a deare rate to buy them of us,
Begin now to detest them.

Din.
Will you? and yet—

Cler.
And I have heard, that some of our late Kings,
For the lie, wearing of a Mistris, feathers;
A cheate at Cards or Dice and such like causes,
Have lost as many gallant Gentlemen,
As might have met the great Turke in the field
With confidence of a glorious Victorie,
And shall we then—

Din.
No more, for shame no more,
Are you become a Patron to? 'tis a new one,
No more on't, burn't, give it to some Orator,
To help him to enlarge his exercise,
With such a one, it might doe well, and profit
The Curat of the Parish, but for Cleremont
The bold, and under-taking Cleremont,
To talke thus to his friend, his friend that knowes him,
Dinant, that knowes his Cleremont, is absurd,
And meere Apocripha.

Cler.
Why, what know you of me?

Din.
Why if thou hast forgot thy selfe, I'll tell thee,
And not looke backe, to speake of what thou wert
At fifteene, for at those yeares, I have heard
Thou wast flesh'd, and enter'd bravely.

Cler.
Well sir, well.

Din.
But yesterday, thou wast the common second,
Of all that onely knew thee, thou hadst bills
Set up on every post, to give thee notice,
Where any difference was, and who were parties,
And as, to save the charges of the Law;
Poore men seeke Arbitrators, thou wert chosen
By such as knew thee not, to compound quarrells:
But thou wert so delighted with the sport,
That if there were no just cause, then wouldst make one,
Or be engag'd thy selfe: This godly calling
Thou hast followed five and twenty yeares, and studied
The Criticismes of contentions, and art thou
In so few houres transform'd? certaine this night
Thou hast had strange dreames, or rather visions.

Cler.
Yes, Sir,
I have seene fooles, and fighters, chain'd together,
And the Fighters had the upper hand, and whipt first,
The poore Sotts laughing at 'em. What I have bin
It skils not, what I will be is resolv'd on.

Din.
Why then you'll fight no more?

Cler.
Such is my purpose.

Din.
On no occasion?

Cler.
There you stagger me,
Some kind of wrongs there are, which flesh and blood
Cannot endure.

Din.
Thou wouldst not willingly,
Live a protested coward, or be call'd one?

Cler.
Words, are but words.

Din.
Nor would'st thou take a blow?

Cler.
Not from my friend, though drunke, and from an enemy,
I thinke much lesse.

Din.
There's some hope of thee left then,
Wouldst thou heare me, behind my back disgrac'd?

Cler.
Do you think I am a rogue? they that should do it
Had better bin borne dumbe.

Din.
Or in thy presence?
See me o're-charg'd with odds?

Cler.
I'd fall my selfe first.

Din.
Would'st thou endure thy Mistris be taken from thee,
And thou sit quiet?

Cler.
There you touch my honour,
No French man can endure that.

Din.
Pl--- upon thee,
Why dost thou talke of Peace then? that dar'st suffer
Nothing, or in thy selfe, or in thy friend
That is unmanly?

Cler.
That I grant, I cannot:
But I'll not quarrell with this Gentleman,
For wearing stammell Breeches, or this Gamester,
For playing a thousand pounds, that owes me nothing;
For this mans taking up a common Wench
In raggs, and lowsie, then maintaining her
Caroached in cloth of Tissue, nor five hundred
Of such like toyes, that at no part concerne me;
Marry, where my honour, or my friend is questioned,
I have a Sword, and I thinke I may use it
To the cutting of a Rascalls throat, or so,
Like a good Christian.

Din.
Thou art of a fine Religion,
And rather then we'll make a Schisme in friendship,
I will be of it: But to be serious,
Thou art acquainted with my tedious love-suit
To faire Lamira.

Cler.
Too well Sir, and remember
Your presents, courtship, that's too good a name,
Your slave-like services, your morning musique;
Your walking three houres in the raine at midnight,
To see her at her window, sometimes laugh'd at
Sometimes admitted, and vouchsaf'd to kisse
Her glove, her skirt, nay, I have heard, her slippers,
How then you triumph'd?
Here was love forsooth.

Din.
These follies I deny not,
Such a contemptible thing, my dotage made me,
But my reward for this—

Cler.
As you deserv'd
For he that makes a goddesse of a Puppet,
Merits no other recompence.

Din.
This day friend,
For thou art so—

Cler.
I am no flatterer.

Din.
This proud, ingratefull she, is married to
Lame Champernell.

Cler.
I know him, he has bin
As tall a Sea-man, and has thriv'd as well by't,
The losse of a legg and an Arme deducted, as any
That ever put from Marseils: you are tame,
Pl--- on't, it mads me; if it were my case,
I should kill all the family.

Din.
Yet but now
You did preach patience.

Cler.
I then came from confession,
And 't was enjoyn'd me three houres for a pennance,
To be a peaceable man, and to talke like one,
But now, all else being pardon'd, I begin
On a new Tally, Foot doe anything,
I'll second you.

Din.
I would not willingly
Make red, my yet white conscience, yet I purpose
In the open street, as they come from the Temple,
(For this way they must passe,) to speake my wrongs,
And doe it boldly.

Musick playes.
Cler.
Were thy tongue a Cannon,
I would stand by thee, boy, they come upon 'em.

Din.
Obserue a little first.

Cler.
This is fine sidling.

Enter Vertaigne, Champernell Lamira, Nurse; Beaupre Verdoone.
An Epithalamin Song at the Wedding.
Chorus.
Hymen, fill the house with joy,
All thy sacred fires employ:
Blesse the Bed with holy love,
Now faire or be of Beauty move.

Din.
Stand by, for 'twill be heard.

Verta.
This is strange rudenesse.

Din.
'Tis courtship, ballanced with injuries,
You all looke pale with guilt, but I will dy
Your cheekes with blushes, if in your sear'd veines,
There yet remaine so much of honest blood
To make the colour; first to ye my Lord,
The Father of this Bride, whom you have sent
Alive into her grave.

Champ.
How? to her grave?

Dina.
Be patient sir, I'll speake of you anon,
You that allowed me liberall accesse,
To make my way with service, and approv'd of
My birth, my person, yeares, and no base fortune:
You that are rich, and but in this held wise too,
That as a Father should have look'd upon
Your Daughter in a Husband, and aim'd more
At what her youth, and heat of blood requir'd
In lawfull pleasures, then the parting from
Your Crownes to pay her dowre: you that already
Have one foot in the grave, yet study profit,
As if you were assur'd, to live here ever;
What poore end had you, in this choice? in what
Deserve I your contempt? my house, and honours,
At all parts equall yours, my fame as faire,
And not to praise my selfe, the City rankes me,
In the first file, of her most hopefull Gentry:
But Champernell is rich, and needs a nurse,
And not your gold: And add to that, he's old too,
His whole estate in likelihood, to descend
Upon a Family; Here was providence,
I grant, but in a Nobleman, base thrift:
No Merchants, nay, no Pirats, sell for Bondmen.
Their Countrey-men, but you, a Gentleman,
To save a little gold have sold your Daughter
To worse then slaverie.

Cler.
This was spoke home indeed.

Beau.
Sir, I shall take some other time to tell you,
That this harsh language, was delivered to
An old man, but my Father.

Din.
At your pleasure.

Cler.
Proceed in your designe, let me alone,
To answer him, or any man.

Verd.
You presume
Too much upon your name, but may be cousin'd.

Din.
But for you, most unmindfull of my service,
For now I may upbraid you, and with honour,
Since all is lost, and you I am a gainer,
In being deliver'd from a torment in you,
For such you must have bin, you to whom nature
Gave with a liberall hand, most excellent forme,
Your education, language, and discourse,
And judgement to distinguish when you shall
With feeling sorrow, understand how wretched
And miserable, you have made your selfe,
And but your selfe, have nothing to accuse,
Can you with hope from any beg compassion?
But you will say, you serv'd your Fathers pleasure,
Forgetting that unjust commands of Parents
Are not to be obey'd or that you are rich,
And that to wealth, all pleasure els are servants,
Yet but consider, how this wealth was purchas'd,
'Twill trouble the possession.

Champ.
You sir know
I got it, and with honour.

Din.
But from whom?
Remember that, and how: you'll come indeed
To houses bravely furnish'd, but demanding
Where it was bought, this souldier will not lie,
But answer truly, this rich cloth of Arras,
I made my prize in such a Ship, this Plate
Was my share in another; these faire Jewells,
Comming a shore, I got in such a Village,
The Maid, or Matron kill'd, from whom they were ravish'd,
The Wines you drinke, are guilty too, for this,
This Candie Wine, three Merchants were undone,
These Suckets breake as many more, in briefe,
All you shall weare, or touch, or see, is purchas'd
By lawlesse force, and you but revell in
The teares, and grones, of such as were the owners.

Champ.
'Tis false, most basely false.

Verta.
Let loosers talke.

Din.
Lastly, those joyes, those best of joyes, which Hymen
Freely bestowes on such, that come to tye
The sacred knot he blesses, wonne unto it
By equall love, and mutuall affection,
Not blindly led, with the desire of riches,
Most miserable you, shall never taste of,
This Marriage night, you'll meet a Widowes bed,
Or failing of those pleasures, all Brides looke for,
Sinne in your wish it were so,

Champ.
Thou art a Villaine,
A base, malitious slanderer.

Cler.
Strike him.

Din.
No, he is not worth a blow.

Champ.
O that I had thee
In some close vault that onely would yeild roome
To me to use my Sword, to thee no hope
To run away, I would make thee on thy knees,
Bite out the tongue that wrong'd me.

Verta.
Pray you have patience.

Lamira.
This day I am to be your Soveraigne,
Let me command you.

Champ.
I am lost with rage,
And know not what I am my selfe, nor you:
Away, dare such as you, that love the smoke
Of peace, more then the fire of glorious Warre,
And like unprofitable drones, feed on
Your grandsires laboures, that as I am now,
Were gathering Bees, and fil'd their Hive, this Country
With brave triumphant spoiles, censure our Actions?
You object my prizes to me, had you seene
The horrour of a Sea-fight, with what danger
I made them mine; the fire I fearelesse fought in,
And quench'd it in mine enemies blood, which straight
Like Oyle pour'd out on't, made it burne anew;
My Deck blowne up, with noise enough to mocke
The lowdest thunder, and the desperate fooles
That Boorded me, sent to defie the tempest
That were against me to the angrie Sea,
Frighted with men throwen ore; no victory,
But in despight of the foure Elements,
The Fire the Ayre, the Sea, and sands hid in it
To be atchiev'd, you would confesse poore men,
(Though hopelesse, such an honourable way
To get or wealth, or honour) in your selves;
He that through all these dreadfull passages,
Pursued and overtooke them, unafrighted,
Deserves reward, and not to have it stil'd
By the base name of theft.

Din.
This is the Courtship,
That you must looke for, Madam.

Cler.
'Twill doe well,
When nothing can be done, to spend the night with:
Your tongue is sound, good Lord, I could wish
For this young Ladyes sake this leg, this arme,
And there is something els I will not name,
(Though 'tis the onely thing that must content her)
Had the same vigour.

Champ.
You shall buy these scoffes
With your best blood helpe me once noble anger,
(Nay stirre not, I alone must right my selfe)
And with one leg transport me to correct
These scandalous praters: ô that noble wounds
Falls.
Should hinder just revenge? D'ye jeere me too?
I got these not as you doe your diseases
In Brothells, or with riotous abuse
Of wine in Tavernes; I have one leg shot,
One arme disabled, and am honour'd more,
By loosing them, as I did in the face
Of a brave enemy then if they were
As when I put to Sea; you are French men onely,
In that you have bin laied, and cur'd, goe to:
You mock my leg but every bone about you,
Makes you good Almanack-makers, to foretell
What wether we shall have.

Din.
Put up your Sword.

Cler.
Or turne it to a Crutch, there't may be usefull,
And live, on the relation to your Wife,
Of what a brave man you were once.

Din.
And tell her,
What a fine vertue, 'tis in a young Lady
To give an old man pap.

Cler.
Or hire a Surgeon
To teach her to roule up your broken limbes.

Din.
To make a Pultesse, and endure the sent
Of oiles and nasty Plaisters.

Vert.
Fie sir, fie,
You that have stood all dangers of all kinds,
To yeild to a rivalls scoffe?

Lamira.
Shed teares upon
Your Wedding day? this is unmanly Gentlemen.

Champ.
They are teares of anger ô that I should live
To play the woman thus? All powerfull heaven,
Restore me, but one houre, that strength agen,
That I had once, to chastise in these men,
Their follies, and ill manners, and that done,
When you please, I'll yeild up the fort of life,
And doe it gladly.

Cler.
We ha' the better of him,
We ha' made him crye.

Verdo.
You shall have satisfaction,
And I will doe it nobly, or disclaime me.

Beaup.
I say no more you have a Brother, Sister,
This is your Wedding day, we are in the streete,
And howsoever, they forget their honour,
'Tis fit I loose not mine, by their example.

Verta.
If there be Lawes in Paris looke to answer
This insolent affront

Cler.
You that live by them,
Study 'em for heavens sake; for my part I know not
Nor care not what they are, Is their ought els
That you would say?

Din.
Nothing, I have my ends,
Lamira weepes, I have said too much I feare;
So dearely once I lov'd her, that I cannot
Endure to see her teares.

Exiunt. Dionant and Cleremont.
Champ.
See you performe it,
And doe it like my Nephew.

Verdo.
If I faile in't
Nere know me more, Cousen Beupre

Champ.
Repent not
What thou hast done, my life, thou shalt not find
I am decrepit; in my love, and service,
I will be young, and constant, and beleeve me,
For thou shall find it true, in scorne of all
The scandalls these rude men have throwne upon me
I'le meete thy pleasures, with a young mans ardour
And in all circumstances, of a Husband,
Performe my parts.

Lamira.
Good Sir, I am your servant,
And 'tis too late now, if I did repent,
(Which as I am a virgin yet, I doe not)
To undoe the knot, that by the Church is tyed
Onely I would beseech ye, as you have,
A good opinion of me, and my vertues,
For so you have pleas'd to stile my innocent weakenes,
That what hath pass'd between Dinant and me,
Or what now in your hearing he hath spoken,
Beget not doubts, or feares.

Champ.
I apprehend you,
You thinke I will be jealous, as I live
Thou art mistaken sweet; and to confirme it
Discourse with whom thou wilt, ride where thou wilt,
Feast whom thou wilt, as often as thou wilt,
For I will have no other guards upon thee
Then thine owne thoughts,

Lamira.
I'le use this liberty
With moderation Sir,

Beaup.
I am resolv'd
Steale off, i'le follow you,

Champ.
Come Sir, you droope,
Till you find cause, which I shall never give
Dislike not of your son in Law,

Verta.
Sir, You teach me
The language I should use; I am most happy
In being so neere you.

Exeunt Verdone and Beaupre.
Lamira.
O my feares good nurse
Follow my Brother unobserv'd and learne,
Which way he takes.

Nurs.
I will be carefull Madam.
Exit Nurse.

Cham.
Betweene us complements are superfluous,
One Gentlemen, th'affront we have met here
Wee'l thinke upon hereafter, 'twere unfit
To cherish any thought to breed unrest,
Or to our selves, or to our Nuptiall feast.

Exeunt.
Enter Dinant and Cleremont.
Cler.
We shall have sport, ner fear't

Din.
What sport I prithee?

Cler.
Why we must fight, I know it, and I long for't
It was apparent in the fiery eye,
Of young Verdoone, Beaupre look'd pale and shooke too,
Familiar signes of anger. They are both brave fellowes
Tride and approv'd, and I am prou'd to encounter.
With men, from whom no honour can be lost
They will play up to a man, and set him off,
When ere I goe to the field, heaven keepe me from
The meeting of an unflesh'd youth or Coward,
The first to get a name, comes on too hot,
The Coward is so swift in giving ground,
There is no overtaking him, without
A hunting Nag, well breath'd too.

Din.
All this while,
You ne'r thinke on the danger,

Cler.
Why 'tis no more,
Then meeting of a dousen Friends at Supper,
And drinking hard; mischeif comes there unlook'd for,
I am sure as suddaine, and strikes home as often,
For this we are prepar'd

Din.
Lamira Loves
Her Brother Beaupre dearely.

Cler.
What of that?

Din.
And should he call me'to account for what
But now I speake, nor can I with mine honour
Recant my words, that little hope is left me,
'Ere to enjoye what (next to heaven I long for,)
Is taken from me,

Cler.
Why what can you hope for,
She being now married?

Din.
On my Cleremont,
To you all secrets of my heart lye open,
And I rest most secure that whatsoer'e
I locke up there, is as a private thought,
And will no farther wrong me, I am a Frenchman,
And for the greater part, we are borne Courtiers,
She is a woman, and how ever yet,
No heat of service, had the power to melt
Her frozen Chastity, time and opportunitie
May worke her to my ends, I confesse ill ones,
And yet I must pursue 'em: now her marriage,
In probabilitie, will no way hurt,
But rather help me,

Cler.
Sits the wind there? pray you tell me
How farr off, dwells your love from lust?

Din.
Too neere,
But prithee chide me not,

Cler.
Not I, goe on boye,
I have faults my self, and will not reprehend
A crime I am not free from: for her Marriage,
I doe esteeme it (and most batchellors are
Of my opinion) as a faire protection,
To play the wanton, without losse of honour.

Din.
Would she make rise of't so, I were most happy.

Cler.
No more of this, Judge now,
Whither I have the guift of prophecie.

Enter Beaupre and Verdoone.
Beaup.
Monsieur Dinant.
I am glad to find you, Sir.

Din.
I am at your service.

Verd.
Good Monsieur Cleremont, I have long wish'd
To be knowne better to you,

Cler.
My desires
Embrace your wishes Sir,

Beaup.
Sir, I have ever
Esteem'd you truly noble, and professe.
I should have bin most proud, to have had the honour,
To call you Brother, but my Fathers pleasure
Denied that happinesse, I know no man lives,
That can command his passions, and therefore
Dare not condemne, the late intemperate language
You were pleas'd to use, to my Father and my Sister
Hee's old and flie a woman, I most sortie,
My honour does compell me to entreat you,
To doe me the favour, with your sword to meete me
A mile without the Citie.

Din.
You much honour me.
In the demand, I'l gladly waite upon you,

Beaup.
O Sir you teach me what to say: the time?

Din.
With the next Sun, if you thinke fit.

Beaup.
The place.

Din.
Nere to the vineyard eastward from the Citie.

Beaup.
I like it well, this gentleman if you please
Will keepe me company,

Cler.
That is agreed on;
And in my friends behalf I will attend him

Verd.
You shall not misse my service.

Beaup.
Good day Gentlemen.

Ex. Beaup. and Verdoone.
Din.
At your Commandement.

Cler.
Prou'd to be your servants,
I thinke there is no Nation under heaven
That cut their enemies throates with complement,
And such fine trickes as we doe: If you have
Any few Prayers to say, this night you may
Call 'em to mind and use 'em, for my self,
As I have little to loose, my care is lesse,
So till to morrow morning, I bequeath you,
To your devotions; and those payed, but use
That noble courage I have seene, and we
Shall fight, as in a Castle,

Din.
Thou art all honour,
Thy resolution, would steele a Coward,
And I most fortunate, in such a Friend,
All tendernesse, and nice respect of woman,
Be now far from me, reputation take
A full possession of my heart, and prove
Honour the first place holds, the second love.

Exeunt.
Enter Lamira, Charlote.
Lamir.
Sleepes my Lord still Carlote.

Char.
Not to be wak'd
By your Ladiships cheerefull lookes, I well perceive
That this night, the good Lord hath bin
At an unusuall service, and no wonder
If he rest after it

Lamir.
You are very bold

Char.
Your Creature Madam and when you are pleas'd
Sadnesse to me's a stranger, your good pardon
If I speake like a foole, I could have wisht,
To have taine your place to night, had bold Dinant
Your first and most obsequious servant tasted
Those delicates, which by his lethargie
As it appeares, have cloyed my Lord,

Lamira.
No more.

Charl.
'T an silenc'd Madam

Lamira.
Saw you my nurse this morning?

Charl.
No Madam.

Lamira.
I am full of feares.
Knock within.
Who's that?

Charl.
She you enquir'd for

Lamira.
Bring her in, and leave me.
Ex. Charlote.
Now nurse what newes.

Enter Nurse.
Nurse.
O Ladie dreadfull ones,
They are to fight this morning, ther's no remedie
I saw my Lord your Brother, and Verdoone.
Take horse as I came by,

Lamir.
Wher's Cleremont?

Nurse.
I met him too, and mounted.

Lamir.
Wher's Dinant?

Nurse.
There's all the hope, I have staied him with a tricke,
If I have done well so,

Lamir.
What tricke?

Nurse.
I 'tould him,
Your Ladiship layed your command upon him,
To attend you presently, and to confirme it,
Gave him the ring' he oft hath seene you weare,
That you bestowed on me; he waites without
Disguis'd, and if you have that power in him,
As I presume you have, it is in you
To stay or alter him.

Lamir.
Have you learnt the place,
Where they are to encounter?

Nurse.
Yes 'tis where
The Duke of Burgundie, met Lewis th'eleventh

Lamir.
Enough I will reward thee liberally,
Ex. Nurse.
Goe bring him in, full deare I lov'd Dinant,
While it was lawfull, but those fires are quenched,
I being now anothers, truth forgive me
And let dissimulation, be no crime,
Though most unwillingly, I put it on
To guard a Brothers safetie.

Enter Dinant.
Dina.
Now your pleasure,
Though ill you have deserv'd it, you persev'd
I am still your foole, and cannot but obey
What ever you command

Lamir.
You speake as if
You did repent it, and 'tis not worth my thankes then,
But there has bin a time, in which you would
Receive this as a favour

Din.
Hope was left then
Of recompence.

Lamir.
Why I am still Lamira.
And you Dinant and 'tis yet in my power
I dare not say, i'll put it into act,
To reward your love and service,

Din.
Ther's some comfort,

Lamir.
But thinke not that so low I przie my fame,
To give it up to any man that refuses
To buy it, or with danger or performance
Of what I shall enjoine him,

Din.
Name that danger
Be it of what horrid shape soever Ladie
Which I will shrinke at; only at this instant
Be speedie in't

Lamir.
I'll put you to the triall:
You shall not fight today, doe you start at that?
Not with my Brother, I have heard your difference,
Mine is no Helens beauty, to be purchas'd
With blood, and so defended if you looke for
Favours from me, deserve them with obedience,
Ther's no way els to gain 'em

Din.
You command
What with mine honour I cannot obey
Which lies at pawne against it and a friend
Equally deare as that, or life engag'd,
Not for himself, but me.

Lamir.
Why, foolish man,
Dare you sollicite me, to serve your lust,
In which not onely, I abuse my Lord,
My father, and my family, but write whore,
Though not upon my forhead, in my conscience,
To be read howerly, and yet name your honours?
Yours suffer but in circumstance; mine in substance,
If you obey me, you part with some credit,
From whom? the giddy multitude; but mankind
Will censure me, and justly

Din.
I will loose,
What most I doe desire, rather then hazard
So deare a friend, or write my selfe a coward,
'Tis better be no man

Lamir.
This will not doe;
Why I desire not, you should be a coward,
Nor doe I weigh my Brothers life with yours,
Meete him, fight with him, doe, and kill him fairely,
Let me not suffer for you, I am carelesse.

Din.
Suffer for me?

Lamir.
For you, my kindnesse to you,
Already brands me, with a strumpets name,

Din.
O that I knew the wretch!

Lamir.
I will not name him,
Nor give you any Character to know him;
But if you dare, and instantly ride foorth
At the west port of the City, and defend there
My reputation, against all you meete,
For two houres on'ly, i'l not sweare Dinant,
To satisfie, (though sure I thinke I shall)
What ever you desire, if you denie this
Be desperate, for willingly, by this light,
I'l never see thee more

Din.
Two houres, doe you say?

Lamir.
Only two houres,

Dina.
I were no Gentleman,
Should I make scruple of it; this favour armes me,
And boldly il' performe it.

Exit.
Lamir.
I am glad on't.
This will prevent their meeting yet, and keepe
My Brother safe, which was the marke I shott at.

Exeunt.