Zen.  O too late, For they are lost, for ever lost.

Leop.  Take comfort
’Tis not impossible, but that they live yet,
For when they left the ships, they were within
A League o’th’ shore, and with such strength and cunning
They swimming, did delude the rising Billows,
With one hand making way, and with the other,
Their bloudy swords advanced, threatning the Sea-gods
With war, unless they brought them safely off,
That I am almost confident they live,
And you again may see them.

Zen.  In that hope
I brook a wretched being, till I am
Made certain of their fortunes; but they dead,
Death hath so many doors to let out life,
I will not long survive them.

Leop.  Hope the best,
And let the courteous usage you have found,
Not usual in men of War perswade you
To tell me your condition.

Zen.  You know it,
A Captive, my fate and your power have made me,
Such I am now, but what I was it skills not: 
For they being dead, in whom I only live,
I dare not challenge Family, or Country,
And therefore Sir enquire not, let it suffice,
I am your servant, and a thankful servant
(If you will call that so, which is but duty)
I ever will be, and my honour safe,
Which nobly hitherto ye have preserv’d,
No slavery can appear in such a form,
Which with a masculine constancy I will not
Boldly look on and suffer.

Leop.  You mistake me: 
That you are made my prisoner, may prove
The birth of your good fortune.  I do find
A winning language in your tongue and looks;
Nor can a suit by you mov’d be deni’d,
And therefore of a prisoner you must be
The Victors advocate.

Zen. To whom?

Leap. A Lady: 
In whom all graces that can perfect beauty
Are friendly met.  I grant that you are fair: 
And had I not seen her before, perhaps
I might have sought to you.

Zen. This I hear gladly.

Leap. To this incomparable Lady I will give you,
(Yet being mine, you are already hers)
And to serve her is more than to be free,
At least I think so; and when you live with her,
If you will please to think on him that brought you
To such a happiness, for so her bounty
Will make you think her service, you shall ever
Make me at your devotion.

Zen. All I can do, Rest you assur’d of.

Leap. At night I’le present you, Till when I am your Guard.

Zen. Ever your servant. [Exeunt.

    Enter Arnoldo and Rutilio.

Arn. To what are we reserv’d?

Rut. Troth ’tis uncertain,
Drowning we have scap’d miraculously, and
Stand fair for ought I know for hanging; mony
We have none, nor e’re are like to have,
’Tis to be doubted:  besides we are strangers,
Wondrous hungry strangers; and charity
Growing cold, and miracles ceasing,
Without a Conjurers help, cannot find
When we shall eat again.