Exeunt Ench. with spirits and banquets.

Han.  O spightfull churles! have they caried away all? has haste made no waste?

Luc.  My Lord, Earle Lassenbergh, o pardon me.

Lass.  Away from me.

Luc.  O can I in these bands? 
Forget the dutie of my love to you? 
Were they of Iron, or strong Adamant,
My hands should teare them from my wronged Lord.

Flo.  O, Lassenbergh, to what undoubted perrill
Of life and honour had you brought your selfe
By obstinacie of your froward minde,
Had not my fortune brought me to this place
To lo[o]se the enchantment, which enthralled you both,
By hidden vertue of this precious ring. 
Come, therefore, friendly and imbrace at last
The living partner of your strange mishaps
Justly pursuing you for flying her.

Lass.  Leave me, I say; I can endure no more.

Lu.  Ah, have I loos’d thee then to flie from mee?

Lass.  Away! [Exit.

Lu.  Ile follow thee,

Flo.  Tarrie, Lucilia.

Lu.  Deare father, pardon mee. [Exit.

Flo.  Sirrah, attend her.  Poore wretch, I feare this too much love in thee Is fatall to thee.  Up, Sirrah, follow your mistresse.

Han.  I, sir, I go; my mistresse dogs the banket and I dog her.

[Exeunt.

Finis Actus Tertii.

[Actus Quartus.]

Enter Motto, Raphe bringing in Alberdure.

Motto.  So, sir, lay even downe your handie worke.

Rap.  Nay, sir, your handie worke, for you were the cause of his drowning.

Mot.  I?  I defie thee.  Wert not thou next him when he leapt into the River?

Rap.  O monstrous lyar!

Mot.  Lye! you peasant, go too:  Ile go tell the Duke.

Rap.  I, sir, Ile go with you, I warrant you.

[Exeunt.

Alb.  What sodain cold is this that makes me shake,
Whose veines even now were fill’d with raging fire? 
How am I thus all wet?  What water’s this
That lies so ycelike, freezing in my blood? 
I thinke the cold of it hath cur’d my heate,
For I am better temperd than before. 
But in what unacquainted place am I?
0 where is my Hyanthe, where’s Leander? 
What, all alone? nothing but woods and streames? 
I cannot guesse whence these events should grow.

    Enter Peasant.

Pea.  O that I could lose my way for another cup, now.  I was well paide for it yfaith.

Alb.  Yonder is one; Ile enquire of him.  Fellow, ho! peasant!

Pea.  Aie me, the mad man againe, the mad man.

Alb.  Saie, whither fliest thou.

Pea.  Pray, let me goe, sir; I am not Hyanthe, in truth I am not, sir.