University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
  

 1. 
 2. 
Act. II.
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 



Act. II.

Enter Mistresse Wilding, and the Page.
Mi.
Wher's your Master, boy?

Pag.
I know not Mistresse.

Mi.
Come neerer, sirra, you are of your Masters
Counsell sometimes, come, be true in what
I shall desire, and I shall finde a time, for your reward.

Pa.
How d'ee meane Mistresse?
We Pages meete rewards of severall natures,
This great man gives us Gold, that Ladie Gloves,
Tother silke Stockins, Roses, Garters: but
The Ladie, and Mistresse whom we serve in ordinarie,
Reserves another bountie, for our closenesse.

Mi.
I see you can be a wag, but be just to me, and secret.

Pa.
As your Physition, or your looking-lasse;
That in your absence cannot be corrupted
To betraie your complexion.

Mi.
What private mistresses, does Master Wilding visit?

Pa.
Who my Master?
Alas forsooth, d'ee thinke he lets me know?

Mi.
Nay, nay dissemble not.

Pa.
I hire a Coach
Sometimes, or so, but ride alwaies i'th boote,
I looke at no bodie but the passengers,
I do not sit i'th same box at Playes with him,
I waite at Taverne, I confesse, and so forth,
And when he has sup'd, we must have time to eate too,
And what should I trouble my conscience,
With being too officious, till I am cald for?
Tis true, he waites upon the Ladies home,
But tis so darke, I know not where they dwell,
And the next day we have new ones, las meere strangers
To me, and I should be unmannerlie
To Catechise 'em, if now, and then, there be
Any supersiuous cast waiting-woman,
There be so many servingmen about her,


I cannot come to aske a question,
And how should I know any thing?

Mi.
I see you are old enough for vice.

Pa.
Alas forsooth,
You know tis ill to doe a thing that's wicked,
But 'twere a double sinne to talke on't too,
If I were guiltie; beside forsooth, I know
You would neere trust me agen, if I should tell you.

Mi.
Thou art deceav'd, it shall endeare thee more.

Pa.
I must beseech you
To be excus'd, my Master is my Master,
My feete are at your service, not my tongue,
I wo'd not forfet my recognizance,
And shame the tribe, Pages, and Mid-wives are
Sworne to be close.

Mi.
Hence thou old in vilanie,
But 'tis in vaine to chide, leave me, and bid
Mistris Penelope come hither.

Pa.
Yes forsooth.

Mi.
I know not which way to beginne, to me
Hee has betraid he loves her, she is present.

Enter Penelope.
Pene.
Will you be sad still Cozen, why d'ee greeve?
Be kinder to your selfe, trust me, I weepe
When I am alone, for you.

Mi.
Sorrow and I
Are taking leave I hope, and these are onely
Some drops after the cloud has wept his violence:
Were one thing finish'd, I should nere be sad more,
And I cannot despaire to know it done,
Since the effect depends upon your love.

Pene.
My love? tis justice you command my service,
I would I were so happie.

Mi.
Make me so,
By your consent to my desire.

Pene.
Pray name it.

Mi.
I onely aske your love, praie give it me.

Pene.
My love? why doe you mocke my poore hart, which
Poures all it has upon you? y'are possest of that alreadie.

Mi.
You examine not
The extent of my request, for when you have


Given what I aske, your love, you must no more
Direct it, as you please, the power's in me
How to dispose it.

Pen.
And you shall for ever,
I have no passion that shall not know obedience to you.

Mi.
Your love by gift
Made mine, I give my husband you, love him.

Pene.
I alwaies did.

Mi.
But in a neerer way:
Love him as I doe, with a resolution
To give your selfe to him, if he desire it.

Pene.
I understand you not, or if you doe
Suspect I cherish any lawlesse flame—

Mi.
Thou art to innocent; be lesse, and doe
An act to endeare us both, I know he loves thee;
Meete it, deere coose, 'tis all I beg of thee;
I know you thinke it a most strange request,
But it will make fortunate.

Pene.
Greife I feare
Hath made her wild, d'ee know what you desire?

Mi.
Yes, that you love my husband: modestie
Will not allow me to discourse my wish
In everie circumstance, but thinke how desperate
My wound is, that would have so strange a cure,
Hee'le love me then, and trust me i'le not studie
Revenge, as other wives perhappes would doe,
But thanke thee, and indeede an act like this,
So full of love, with so much losse and shame too,
For mine and his sake, will deserve all dutie,

Pene.
I have no patience to heare more, and could
I let in a thought, you meant this earnest,
I should forget I knew you; but you cannot
Be falne from so much goodnesse, I confesse
I have no confidence in your husbands vertue,
He has attempted me; but shall hope sooner
To leave a staine upon the sunne, then bribe
Mee to so foule a guilt; I have no life
Without my innocence, and you cannot make
Your selfe more miserable, then to wish it from me:


Oh, do not loose the merit of your faith,
And truth to him, though he forget himselfe,
By thinking to releeve your selfe thus sinfullie,
But sure you doe but trie me all this while.

Mi.
And I have found thee pure, be still preserved so,
But he will stragle further—

Pene.
Cherish hope,
He rather will come backe; your teares, and prayers
Cannot be lost.

Mi.
I charge thee by thy love,
Yet be ruld by me; i'le not be so wicked
To tempt thee in a thought shall blemish thee:
But as thou would'st desire my peace, and his
Conversion, if his wantonnes last with him,
Appeare more tractable, allow him so much
Favour, in smile, or language, that he maie not
Thinke it impossible to prevaile at last.

Pene.
This may ingage him further, and my selfe to a dishonor.

Mi.
It shall worke our happinesse,
As I will manage things; 'tis but to seeme:
A looke will cost thee nothing, nor a syllable
To make his hopes more pleasing, on my life
Thou shalt be safe both in thy fame, and person,
Will you doe this for my sake?

Pene.
I'le refuse no danger, if I suffer not in honor,
To doe you any service.

Mi.
I have cast it
Already, in my braine, but doe not yet
Inquire my purpose, as his follie leades
Him to pursue you, let me know, and i'le
By faire degrees acquaint you with my plot,
Which built on no foule ends, is like to prosper,
And see how aptlie he presents himselfe,
Preethee seeme kinde, and leave the rest to me.
He shall not see me.

Exit.
Enter Master Wilding.
Wi.
How now cooze? was that
My wife went off?

Pene.
Yes, sir.

Wi.
Let her goe, what said shee to thee?



Pene.
Nothing.

Wi.
Thou art troubled.

Pene.
Pray to your knowledge, sir, wherein have I
Done injury to you, or her?

Wi.
Has she abus'd thee?
I'le goe kicke her.

Pene.
By no meanes, sir, I steale away your hart,
And meete at stolne embraces.

Wi.
Does shee twit thee? i'le kicke her like a foot-ball,
Say but the word.

Pene.
By no meanes thinke upon't, I have forgiven her,
You shanot sir, so much as frowne upon her.
Pray do not as you love me,
Wee may studie a more convenient revenge.

Wi.
How's this?
I preethee if she have beene, peremptorie,
Which was none of our articles, let me instruct thee,
How we shall be reveng'd.

Pene.
Sir, I acknowledge
The groth and expectation of my fortune,
Is in your love, and though I wod not wrong her;
And yet to have my innocence accus'd,
Is able to pervert it, sir, your pardon,
I have beene passionate; pray love your wife,

Wi.
No, no, i'le love thee, indeede, indeede I will,
Is shee jealous?

Pene.
You know she has no cause.

Wi.
Let us be wise; and give her cause, shall's coose,

Pene.
Sir, if it be a trouble to your House,
Your breath shall soone discharge me, I had thought
The tie of blood might have gain'd some respect

Wi.
Discharge thee the house? i'le discharge her,
And all her generation, thee excepted,
And thou shallt do't thy selfe, by this, thou shat,
Ha, she kisses with more freedome, this is better,
Then if my wife had pleaded for me, Pen,
Thou shalt be mistresse, woot? come thou shalt,
Shee's fit for drudgerie.

Pene.
Oh, do not say so.

Wi.
Then I wonot, but I love thee for thy spirit,
Cause thou woot be reveng'd, punish her jealozie


The right way, when 'tis done, I doe not care
To tell her, it may kicke up her heeles too, another way.

Pene.
Tell her what? you make me blush.

Wi.
No, no, i'le tell no bodie, by this hand.
Stay I have a Diamond will become this finger,
Weare it, and let my wife stare out her eyes upon't.

Pene.
I wonot take't on such conditions.

Wi.
Take it on any; shee is come about.

Enter Page.
Pa.

Sir Master Hazard desires your company at Taverne, he
sayes there are none but gentlemen of your acquaintance,
Master Acre-lesse, Master Little-stocke, and Master Sell-away, the
three Gamesters.


Wi.

He must excuse me.


Pene.
As you love me, goe, sir.
Have no suspition that I wish your absence,
I'le weare your gift, and study to be thankfull.

Exit.
Wi.
Well, ther's no great hurt in all this yet;
The Tides not strong against me, no talke now,
Of wives consent, i'le not remove my seige,
Shee'le studie to be thankefull, shee's mine owne,
As sure as I were in her maiden-head,
Now to the Taverne boy, and drinke to the purpose.

Exeunt.
Enter Hazard, Acre-lesse Little-stocke, Sell-away, as in a Taverne, Drawers.
Ha.
More wine, is not this better gentlemen,
Then spitting Constables? you wod have fought now,
And had your braine-pannes open'd

Acr.
Right noble Hazard,
Heer's to thee.

Ha.
Let come boy, fill it me steeple-high,
I am in vaine of mirth, and I ha cause
As you shall see in due time gentlemen.
Master Little stocke thou art dreaming o'th Dice.

Sel.
Hee's melancholie.

Lit
Who I!

Ha.

I'le play the farrier then, and drench thee for the sullens:
a health to all our Mistresses, we have had 'em single, letts
shuffle 'em now together.

Master Acre-lesse.

Enter Fidler.


Fi.
Wilt please you Gentlemen to have a Song.

Ha.
You have not washt to day, go get cleane manners;
You raskall we have no wenches.

Fi.
I see no bodie, sir, you have wash'd my eyes out.

Ha.
It is not necessarie thou should'st have any:
Fill mee agen.

Acr.
This fellow wod ha t'other Cup.

Fi.
I have had a Cup too much alreadie gentlemen.

Exit.
Ha.
Let it goe round, and then in hope you may
Looke double, i'le shew you a sight, I wonder
Jacke wilding Stayes.
Enter Master Wilding, and Page.
Hee's come i'th nicke.

Wi.
Save, save you gallants, may a man come i'th reere?

Ha.
Give him his garnish.

Wi.
Y'are not Prisoners for the reckning, I hope.

Ha.
For the reckning? now y'are altogether gentlemen,
I'le shew you a wonder; but come not to neere,
Keepe out o'th Circle, whatsoever you thinke on't,
This is a hundred pound, nay, not so close,
These Picturs do shew best at distance, gentlemen.
You see it, presto—

Wi.
Nay lett's see't agen.

Ha.
Like to your cunning jugler, I ne're shew
My tricke but once, you may heare more hereafter,
What thinke you of this Master Acre-lesse, Master Little-stocke,
And Master Sell-away?

Acr.
We do not beleeve 'tis gold,

Ha.
Perish then
In your infidelitie.

Wi.
Let me but touch it.

Ha.
It will indure, take my word for't, why looke you,
For your satisfactions, no Gloves off,
You have devices to defalke, preserve
Your talons, and your talents, till you meete
With more convenient Gamesters.

Lit.
How cam'st by it?

Wi.
Tha'dst little or none this morning.

Ha.
I have bought it gentlemen, and you in a mist
Shall see what I paid for it, thou hast not drunke yet:
Nere feare the reckning man, more wine, you varletts,


And call your Mistris, your Scolopendia
If we like her complexion, we may dine here.

Wi.
But harke thee, harke thee Will, did'st winne it?

Ha.
No, but I may loose it ere I goe to bed,
Dost think't shall mustie, what's a hundred pound?

Sel,
A miracle, but they are ceast with me.

Acr.
And me too, come lett's drinke.

Wi.
No matter, how it came Will, I congratulate
Thy fortune, and will quit thee now
With good newes of my selfe, my coose I told thee on,
Is wheel'd about, she has tooke a Ring o'me,
We kist, and talk'd, time out a minde.

Ha.
I know it,
My Almanacke sayes 'tis a good day to wooe in,
Confirm'd by Erra Pater, that honest Jew too,
I'le pledge thee.

Enter Drawer.
Dr.
Master Hazard there are two gentlemen below,
Inquire for you.

Ha.
For me?

Da.
One's somewhat ancient, I heard him call
The tother Nephew.

Ha.
Say I come to 'em presentlie,
Gentlemen, I doe caution you before
To be faire conditiond: one of them, the Nephew
Is of a fierie constitution,
And sensible of any affront, let this
Character prepare him for you.

Wi.
Bring him not hither.

Ha.
There is a necessitie in't, I wod not for
A hundred pound but entertaine him, now
He knowes I am here.

Exit.
Enter Master Hazard againe, with Barnacle, his Nephew, and Dwindle.
Wi.
This is old Barnacle.

Acr.
One that is to fine for Alderman.

Lit.
And that's his Nephew, I have beene in's company,

Sel.
Is this the youth Hazard prepard us for?
How bussie they are?

Ha.
You could not wish better opportunitie,
These are all gentlemen of qualitie,


I'le call him cozen first, if it please you,
To endeare him to their acquaintance.

Bar.

I'le not be a witnesse of your passages my selfe; these
will report as much as I desire, sir, if you be beaten I am satisfied.


Ne.
But d'ee heare Uncle, are sure you have made
Your bargaine wiselie; they may cut my throat
When you are gone, and what are you the wiser,
Dwindle be you close to me.

Ha.
I warrant you we shall do things with discretion,
If he have but grace, to looke and talke couragiouslie.

Bar.
He may be valiant for ought I know,
Howsoever this will be a secure way
To have him thought so, if he beate you soundlie.

Ne.
I doe not like the company;
But I have drunke wine too, and that's the best on't,
We maie quarrell on even Termes, looke to
Thy basket-hilt Dwindle, and have a stoole readie;

Dw.
I will give your worship a stoole.

Ha.
As I am gentleman, be confident
I'le waite on you downe, sir.

Bar.
By no meanes, let him beate you to purpose, sir.

Ne.
But Uncle.

Exit.
Ha.

Come, sir, pray gentlemen, bid my kinsman welcome:
a sparke that will deserve your knowledge.


Wi.
His kinsman? you are welcome.

Acr.
He has power to command your welcome.

Lit.
If I mistake not, I have had the happinesse
To ha beene in your companie a fore now.

Ne.
Mine, sir? d'ee heare, what if I quarrel'd
With him first? 'twill prepare me the better.

Ha.
Do as you please; that's without my conditions.

Ne.
I'le but give him now and then a touch, i'le close
Well enough I warrant you, you beene in my
Companie, sir?

Lit.
Yes, and at the Taverne.

Ne.
I paid the reckning then.

Lit.
You came into our roome—

Ne.
Tell me of comming into your roome,
I'le come againe, you are a superfluous gentleman,

Wil.
How's this?



Ha.
Let him alone.

Lit.
Sir, remember your selfe.

Ne.
I'le remember what I please, i'le forget what
I remember: tell me of a reckning, what ist?
I'le pay't, no man shall make an asse of me,
Further then I list my selfe, I care not a fiddle—
Sticke for any mans thundring, he that affronts
Me, is the sonne of a Worme, and his father a
Whoore, I care not a straw, nor a broken point
For you, if any man dare drinke to me; J
Wonot goe behind the dore to pledge him.

Acr.
Why her's to you, sir,

Ne.
Why there's to you, sir.

Twit mee with comming into a Roome, J could finde
in my heart, to throw a Pottle-pot, I name no bodie, I
will kicke any man downe Stayres, that cannot behave
himselfe like a gentleman, none but a slave would offer to
paie a reckning before me, where's the Drawer? ther's a
peece at all adventures; hee that is my friend, I cars not
a rush, if any man be my enemie, he is an idle companion, and
I honor him with all my heart.


Wi.

This is a precious humor, is he us'd to these mistakes?


Lit.

Your kinsman gives him priviledge.


Ne.

I desire no mans priviledge, it skills not whether J be kin
to any man living.


Ha.

Nay, nay, cozen, pray let me perswade you.


Ne.

You perswade me? for what acquaintance, minde your
busines and speake with your Tailor.


Ha.
And you be thus rude—

Ne.
Rude, sir, what then, sir, hold me Dwindle.

Dw.
Are you readie to have a stoole, sir?

Wi.
Nay, nay, Will, we beare with him for your sake,
He is your kinsman.

Ha.
I am calme agen,
Cozen, I am sorry any person here
Hath given you offence.

Ne.
Perhapps, sir, you
Have given me offence, J do not feare you,
I have knock'd as round a fellow in my dayes.



Ha.
And may againe—

Wi.

Be knock'd, a pox upon him, I know not what to make
on him.


Ha.
Let me speake a word in private, sir.

Ne.
I can be as private as you, sir.

Ha.
Strike me a box o'th eare presentlie.

Ne.
Ther's my hand on't.

Wi.
Nay, nay, gentlemen.

Acr.
Master Wilding.

Ne.
Let him call me to account, the recknings paid.
Come Dwindle.

Exit.
Sel.
I did not thinke the foole durst ha done this,
Tis a strange youth.

Ha.
You shall heare more to morrow.

Dr.
All's paid, and you are welcome gentlemen.

Exeunt.
Enter Leonara, Violante.
Leo.
Why should not we two live together, being
So equall in our passions? oh Violante,
Our knowledge grew from children, and our loves
Allie us in our natures.

Vio.
Tis my wish
To dwell with thee, I never knew that woman
In whom I tooke more pleasure to converse with,

Leo.
But I have a father, and remembring him
A sorrow steales upon me, to betraie
My hopes of blessing; for although hee love me,
And deerelie as he sayes, for Children must not
Dispute with fathers, he affects not him
In whom I place all thoughts that can delight me,
He loves not Delamore, and what to me
Is all the World without him? I shall never
I feare, have his consent to be made happie
In marriage, and this, although our thoughts
Reflect with equall honor on our lovers,
Makes the distinction, and concludes me miserable,
Thy will depends upon no riged parent,
Thy path is strew'd with Roses, while I clime
A ragged cliffe, to meete whom I affect.

Vio.
Indeede, Leonara I much pitie thee.

Leo,
I prethee counsell me how shall I wrastle
With my sad destinie, and yet preserve


My filiall obedience, I must loose
A father, or a husband.

Vio.
Would I knew
Which way to bid thee steere, but lesson'd by
My owne affection, I would have thy minde
Constant to him thou loust, time may correct
A fathers harshnes, and be confident
If poore Violante have a power to serve thee,
She will forget her owne heart, ere prove false to thee.

Leo.
Oh my deare soule, I know't.

Enter Servant.
Ser.
Oh mistresse.

Leo.
What's the matter!

Vio.
This face betraies some miserable accident.

Leo.
Speake, and assure us, what disaster makes
Thy countenance so wilde.

Ser.
A friend of yours—

Leo.
Is sicke, is dead, what more? and yet I have
So few, I can spare none.

Ser.
Is dead, since you appeare so fortified.

Leo.
Is my father living, and Delamore?

Ser.
Your father is in health, but—

Leo.
Staie, as thou wouldst preserve thy mistresse in
The number of the living.

Vio.
How my feares increase!

Leo.
Except Violante, whom I see
Enjoyes her health, I have no friend but Delamore,
I hope hee is not dead.

Ser.
Your Delamore is dead.

Shee faints.
Vi.
Friend, Leonora,
'Twas indiscreetlie done to open sorrow
So like a torrent, Leonora; friend.

Leo.
Why dost thou call me from him? sure I was
Going to meete my Delamore.

Vi.
Give not such
Beleefe to these sad newes, untill you heare it
Confirm'd, dist see him dead?

Ser.
I did not see him.

Vi.
Have comfort then, this may
Bee check'd againe.



Leo.
Would I could hope it.

Vio.
Have more courage friend,
Didst heare the circumstance?

Ser.
He was slaine they say.

Vio.
Nay then beleeve it not, he was so innocent,
He could provoke no angrie sword against him.

Ser.
I wish your confidence were not deceav'd,
The last part of my storie will concerne
Your faith, and sorrow.

Vio.
Mine? in her I share
Too much, but prethee since thou hast not beene
Slow to wound her, let me know my affliction.

Ser.
The generall voice is, Master Beaumont slew him,
Your servant Ladie.

Vio.
Tell the generall voice
It lyes, my Beaumont prove a murderer?
And of his friend? he would not kill an enemie.

Ser.
All I can say in proofe of this, I saw him
Guarded to Prison, pardon my relation.

Vio.
If thou beleevest thy eyes abus'd thee not,
Thou might'st with one breath spoken 'em both dead,
For the survivor lives, but to give up
His life with more shame, all my comfort is,
I shall not live to see it, oh Leonora,
Who is most wretched now? let thou, and I,
The few dayes that we have to live, be friends,
And die in perfect charitie, I must leave you
To manage your owne griefe, I have enough
To breake my poore heart too.

Exit.
Leo.
What Seas breake-in
Upon us? I that could have dyed within
A gentle wave, now struggle for my life,
My father?

Enter Sr. Richard Hurry.
Hu.
What, it seemes you heard the newes,
Come let your sorrowes drie up, you may see
What 'tis to be so rash, when you chuse next,
You'le consult me, I hope; wipe, wipe your eyes,
Your teares are vaine, I could fay more.



Leo.
What sir?

Hu.
They are more then he deserv'd, and yet tis better
Thou shouldst bestow thy teares upon his Funerall,
Then I sigh'd at thy marriage; come, Heaven has
Beene kinde in this divorce, preparing thus
Thy better fortune, and preserving mine,
I am sorrie for the gentleman that kild him.

Leo.
Oh Murderer.

Hu.
You are a foole, and know not
His provocation: in my youthfull dayes,
I was not patient when affronts were offred me,
Nothing more decre to gentlemen, then honor.

Leo.
Honor in murder?

Hu.
This was otherwise:
In my owne defence I would kill a family,
He shew'd his generous spirit, all the towne
Speakes noblie of him, pity him, and pray for him,
And were he not desertfull, by this time
The generall vote had hang'd him.

Leo.
Oh, my fate!

Hu.
Tother a loose, and inconsiderate man,
Lost in estate, and would ha married thee,
To ha squees'd mine, 'tis better as it is.

Leo.
Good sir, be charitable to the dead.

Hu.
Be you first charitable to the living.
Speake well, and thinke so too, you do not know
What benefit may follow, and how ere
Your womanish sorrow for the present may
So mist your eyes, they will hereafter open,
To see, and thanke my care.

Leo.
Indeede your language,
Pardon my boldnesse, sir, is darke and mysticall.

Hu.
You have your wit to apprehend sometimes,
But 'tis not passion must excuse your dutie to me.

Leo.
I hope.

Hu.
Your hopes may faile you if you doe,
Be obedient hereafter, if you please,
And love my directions

Leo.
I'le not have


A thought shall disobey you, and if ever
I love agen.

Hu.
If ever? why suppose
I should propound one to you, now i'th heate
Of this misfortune, can your heart be obstinate
To me, and your owne good?

Leo.
This is too soone
A conscience, sir, before his blood be cold,
To whom I profest love, to like another?
The World would much condemne me.

Hu.
Is the World
Or I to be prefer'd, this makes the act
Of your obedience perfect, and because
I'le have assurance of what power I hold,
This minute i'le preferre one to your thoughts,
Dispose your heart to love the gentleman
That now's in Prison.

Leo.
Whom d'ee meane deere sir?

Hu.
He that kild Delamore, Master Beaumont:
Doe not suspect I trifle, he is of
A noble house, of a faire expectation,
Handsome in every part.

Leo.
Shall not hee suffer
For the blacke deede alreadie done?

Hu.
Compose
Your selfe to love him, i'le finde a waie how to
Secure his life, and bring him freelie off.

Leo.
Oh! consider ere you move to farr;
If having slaine my comfort, for I must
Give it no other name, call not your justice
To my revenge, yet let me not be forc'd,
To have a thought so full of shame to women,
That he should be my husband, 'tis a staine
Time nor repentance can wash off, I know
You cannot meane so cruellie, beside
I shall commit a sinne, foule as his murther,
Upon poore Violante, and rob her:
Their heart's love hath seald up i'th eye of Heaven,
'Twere sacriledge to part em, shee's my friend too,


One that will rather die then injure me.
And he will rather suffer, if he be
Noble as you professe him, then consent to
So foule a guilt.

Hu.
Let me alone for that,
If he refuse this offer for his life,
Why let him die, i'le put him too't, consider,
In this I shall behold thy naked soule,
Be rul'd, and prosper; disobey, and be
Throwne from my care and blood, at better leasure
I'le tell you more.

Exit.
Leo.
Has Heaven no pity for me?
What killing language doth a father speake?
Poore hart prevent more greife, and quickly breake.

Exit,