Lady. Now Sir, your business?

El.  Lo. First, I thank you for schooling this young fellow,
Whom his own follies, which he’s prone enough
Daily to fall into, if you but frown,
Shall level him a way to his repentance: 
Next, I should rail at you, but you are a Woman,
And anger’s lost upon you.

Lady. Why at me Sir?  I never did you wrong, for to my knowledge This is the first sight of you.

Elder Lo. You have done that,
I must confess I have the least curse in
Because the least acquaintance:  But there be
(If there be honour in the minds of men)
Thousands when they shall know what I deliver,
(As all good men must share in’t) will to shame
Blast your black memory.

Lady. How is this good Sir?

Elder Lo. ’Tis that, that if you have a soul will choak it:  Y’ave kill’d a Gentleman.

Lady. I kill’d a Gentleman!

Elder Lo. You and your cruelty have kill’d him Woman,
And such a man (let me be angry in’t)
Whose least worth weighed above all womens vertues
That are; I spare you all to come too:  guess him now?

Lady. I am so innocent I cannot Sir.

Elder Lo.  Repent you mean, you are a perfect Woman, And as the first was, made for mans undoing.

Lady. Sir, you have mist your way, I am not she.

Elder Lo. Would he had mist his way too, though he had Wandered farther than Women are ill spoken of, So he had mist this misery, you Lady.

Lady. How do you do, Sir?

Elder Lo. Well enough I hope.  While I can keep my self out from temptations.

Lady. Leap into this matter, whither would ye?

Elder Lo. You had a Servant that your peevishness Injoined to Travel.

Lady. Such a one I have Still, and shall be griev’d ’twere otherwise.

El.  Lo. Then have your asking, and be griev’d he’s dead;
How you will answer for his worth, I know not,
But this I am sure, either he, or you, or both
Were stark mad, else he might have liv’d
To have given a stronger testimony to th’ world
Of what he might have been.  He was a man
I knew but in his evening, ten Suns after,
Forc’d by a Tyrant storm our beaten Bark
Bulg’d under us; in which sad parting blow,
He call’d upon his Saint, but not for life,
On you unhappy Woman, and whilest all
Sought to preserve their Souls, he desperately
Imbrac’d a Wave, crying to all that saw it,
If any live, go to my Fate that forc’d me
To this untimely end, and make her happy: 
His name was Loveless:  And I scap’t the storm,
And now you have my business.

Lady. ’Tis too much. 
Would I had been that storm, he had not perisht. 
If you’l rail now I will forgive you Sir. 
Or if you’l call in more, if any more
Come from this ruine, I shall justly suffer
What they can say, I do confess my self
A guiltie cause in this.  I would say more,
But grief is grown too great to be delivered.