Lass.  Villaine, looke for her, call her, seeke her out.
Lucillia! where’s my love, o where’s Lucillia! 
Aye me, I feare my barbarous rudenesse to her
Hath driven her to some desperate exigent. 
Who would have tempted her true love so farre? 
The gentlest minds with injuries overcome
Growe most impacient:  o Lucilia,
Thy absence strikes a loving feare in me,
Which from what cause so ever it proceedes
Would God I had beene kinder to thy love.

    Enter Hard, with a Guard, Motto, Raphe.

Hard.  Slaves, can ye not direct us to the place?

Mot.  Yes, sir, here’s the place we left him in.

Ra.  O see (my lord) heer’s one weares his apparrell.

Hard.  But where is he? stay, sirra, what are you That jet thus in the garments of the Prince.

Han.  Bought and sold, sir, in the open market, sir.  Aske my maister.

Hard.  Earle Lassingbergh, where is the Princes body?

Lass.  Why aske you me, my Lord?

Hard.  Since you are in the place where he was drownd, And this your hinde here hath his garments on.

Lass.  Enquire of him then.

Hard.  Ile enquire of you And of your gallant, too.  Guard, apprehend them And bring them presentlie to court with us.

Lass.  What meanes Lord Hardenberg to entreate me thus?

Har.  That you shall know anon:  bring them away.

[Exeunt.

[SCENE 4]

    Enter Leander and Hyanthe.

Lean.  O, Madam, never were our teares bestowed
Of one whose death was worthier to be mon’d. 
Deere Alberdure, why parted I from thee,
And did not like the faithful Pilades
Attend my deare Orestes in his rage?

Hya.  O my sweete love, O princelie Alberdure,
Would God the river where thy course lay drownde
Were double deepe in me and turned to teares
That it might be consumde for swallowing thee.

    Enter Alber, with a basket of Apricocks, disguised.

Alber.  In this disguise Ile secretly enquire
Why I was so forsaken of my friend
And left to danger of my lunacie. 
Here is the man that most I blame for this,
Whose vowed friendship promisd greater care;
But he, it seemes, enamour’d of my love,
Was glad of that occasion, and I feare
Hath turned her womanish conceipt from me. 
Ile proove them both.  Maister, wilt please [you] buy
A basket of well riped Apricocks?

Lea.  I pray thee keepe thy dainties; I am full Of bitter sorrowes as my hart can holde.

Alb.  It may be, Maister, your faire Lady will.

Hya.  No, friend; my stomach is more full then his.

Lea.  Where dwellest thou, friend?