Hip. Above my hope:  Sir, if an Angel were to be my convoy, He should not be more welcom.—­ [Ex. Arn. and Hip.

Clo. Now you know me.

Man. Yes Sir, and honour you:  ever remembring
Your many bounties, being ambitious only
To give you cause to say by some one service
That I am not ungratefull.

Clod. ’Tis now offer’d:  I have a suit to you, and an easie one, Which e’re long you shall know.

Man. When you think fit Sir,
And then as a command I will receive it,
Till when, most welcom:  you are welcom too Sir,
’Tis spoken from the heart, and therefore needs not
Much protestation:  at your better leisure
I will enquire the cause that brought you hither: 
In the mean time serve you.

Clod. You out-doe me Sir. [Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.  Scena Prima.

Enter Duarte, Doctor.

Dua. You have bestow’d on me a second life,
For which I live your creature, and have better’d
What nature fram’d unperfect, my first being
Insolent pride made monstrous; but this later
In learning me to know my self, hath taught me
Not to wrong others.

Doct. Then we live indeed,
When we can goe to rest without alarm
Given every minute to a guilt-sick conscience
To keep us waking, and rise in the morning
Secure in being innocent:  but when
In the remembrance of our worser actions
We ever bear about us whips and furies,
To make the day a night of sorrow to us,
Even life’s a burthen.

Dua. I have found and felt it;
But will endeavour having first made peace
With those intestine enemies my rude passions,
To be so with man-kind:  but worthy Doctor,
Pray if you can resolve me; was the Gentleman
That left me dead, ere brought unto his tryal?

Doct. Not known, nor apprehended.

Dua. That’s my grief.

Doct. Why, do you wish he had been punished?

Dua. No,
The stream of my swoln sorrow runs not that way: 
For could I find him, as I vow to Heaven
It shall be my first care to seek him out,
I would with thanks acknowledge that his sword,
In opening my veins, which proud bloud poison’d,
Gave the first symptoms of true health.

Doct. ’Tis in you
A Christian resolution:  that you live
Is by the Governours, your Uncles charge
As yet conceal’d.  And though a sons loss never
Was solemniz’d with more tears of true sorrow
Than have been paid by your unequal’d Mother
For your supposed death, she’s not acquainted
With your recovery.

Dua. For some few dayes Pray let her so continue:  thus disguis’d I may abroad unknown.

Doct. Without suspicion Of being discovered.

Dua. I am confident
No moisture sooner dies than womens tears,
And therefore though I know my Mother vertuous,
Yet being one of that frail sex I purpose
Her farther tryal.