Dua. It seems you are troubled Sir, I heard you speak of want.

Rut. ’Tis better hearing Far, than relieving Sir.

Dua. I do not think so, you know me not.

Rut. Not yet that I remember.

Dua. You shall, and for your friend:  I am beholding to ye,
Greatly beholding Sir; if you remember,
You fought with such a man, they call’d Duarte,
A proud distemper’d man:  he was my enemy,
My mortal foe, you slew him fairly, nobly.

Rut. Speak softly Sir, you do not mean to betray me, I wisht the Gallows, now th’are coming fairly.

Dua. Be confident, for as I live, I love you, And now you shall perceive it:  for that service, Me, and my purse command:  there, take it to ye, ’Tis gold, and no small sum, a thousand Duckets, Supply your want.

Rut. But do you do this faithfully?

Dua. If I mean ill, spit in my face and kick me:  In what else I may serve you, Sir—­

Rut. I thank you, This is as strange to me as Knights adventures.  I have a project, ’tis an honest one, And now I’le tempt my fortune.

Dua. Trust me with it.

Rut. You are so good and honest I must trust ye, ’Tis but to carry a letter to a Lady That sav’d my life once.

Dua. That will be most thankful, I will do’t with all care.

Rut. Where are you, white-broth? 
Now lusty blood,
Come in, and tell your mony: 
’Tis ready here, no threats, nor no orations,
Nor prayers now.

Sulp. You do not mean to leave me.

Rut. I’le live in Hell sooner than here, and cooler.  Come quickly come, dispatch, this air’s unwho[l]som:  Quickly good Lady, quickly to’t.

Sulp. Well, since it must be, The next I’le fetter faster sure, and closer.

Rut. And pick his bones, as y’have done mine, pox take ye.

Dua. At my lodging for a while, you shall be quartered, And there take Physick for your health.

Rut. I thank ye, I have found my angel now too, if I can keep him.
                                           [Exeunt omnes.

Actus Quintus.  Scena Prima.

Enter Rutilio and Duarte.

Rut.  You like the Letter?

Dua. Yes, but I must tell you You tempt a desperate hazard, to sollicite The mother, (and the grieved one too, ’tis rumor’d) Of him you slew so lately.

Rut. I have told you
Some proofs of her affection, and I know not
A nearer way to make her satisfaction
For a lost Son, than speedily to help her
To a good Husband; one that will beget
Both Sons and Daughters, if she be not barren. 
I have had a breathing now, and have recovered
What I lost in my late service, ’twas a hot one: 
It fired and fired me; but all thanks to you Sir,
You have both freed and cool’d me.