Hip.  What strange adventure’s this!  How little hoped I, When thus disguised I stole from Barcelona, To be relieved by brave Gonsalvo here? [Aside.

2 Rob.  That life, you have preserved, shall still be yours;
And that you may perceive, how much my nature
Is wrought upon by this your generous act,
That goodness, you have shown to me, I’ll use
To others for your sake, if you dare trust me
A moment from your sight.

Gons.  Nay, take your sword;
I will not so much crush a budding virtue,
As to suspect. [Gives him his sword.  Exit Robber. 
—­Sweet youth, you shall not leave me,
Till I have seen you safe.

Hip.  You need not doubt it: 
Alas!  I find I cannot, if I would: 
I am but freed to be a greater slave:  [Aside. 
How much am I obliged, sir, to your valour!

Gons.  Rather to your own sweetness, pretty youth;
You must have been some way preserved, though I
Had not been near; my aid did but prevent
Some miracle more slowly setting out
To save such excellence.

Hip.  How much more gladly could I hear those words, If he, that spoke them, knew he spoke to me! [Aside.

Enter the Robber again with Don MANUEL, and JULIA, bound.

My brother and my sister prisoners too! 
They cannot sure discover me through this
Disguise; however, I’ll not venture it. [Steps behind the trees.

2 Rob.  This gentleman and lady [To GONS. privately. 
My fellows bound. [Exit Robber.

Man.  We must prepare to die; This is the captain of the Picarons.

Jul.  Methinks he looks like one; I have a strange Aversion to that man; he’s fatal to me.

Gons.  I ne’er saw excellence in womankind [Stares on her. 
Till now, and yet discern it at the first: 
Perfection is discovered in a moment;
He, that ne’er saw the sun before, yet knows him.

Jul.  How the villain stares upon me!

Gons.  Wonder prepares my soul, and then love enters: 
But wonder is so close pursued by love,
That, like a fire, it warms as soon as born.

Man.  If we must die, what need these circumstances?

Jul.  Heaven defend me from him!

Gons.  Why, madam, can you doubt a rudeness from me? 
Your very fears and griefs create an awe,
Such majesty they bear; methinks, I see
Your soul retired within her inmost chamber. 
Like a fair mourner sit in state, with all
The silent pomp of sorrow round about her.

Man.  Your language does express a man, bred up To worthier ways than those you follow now.

Gons.  What does he mean? [Aside.

Man.  If (as it seems) you love; love is a passion,
Which kindles honour into noble acts: 
Restore my sister’s liberty; oblige her,
And see what gratitude will work.