Service to me. My power is e'en a going out of

fight.

Y. Thor. Why would you delay? we have no other

Business now but to part.

Suf. And will not that, fweet heart, ask a long

time?

Methinks it is the hardest piece of work

That e're I took in hand.

Y. Thor. Fie, fie, why look,

I'll make it plain and easie to you: Farewel.

Kiffes.

Suf. Ah, 'las! I am not half perfect in it yet.

I must have it read over an hundred times.

Pray you take fome pains, I confefs my dulness. Y. Thor. What a Thorne this Rofe grows on? parting were sweet,

But what a trouble 'twill be to obtain it?

Come, again and again, farewel. Yet wilt return?

Kifjes.

All queftions of my journey, my ftay, imployment,
And revisitation, fully I have answered all.
There's nothing now behinde, but nothing.

Suf. And that nothing is more hard then any thing,

Then all the every things. This Request.

Suf. That I may bring you through one pasture

more

Up to yon knot of trees: amongst those shadows
I'll vanish from you, they shall teach me how.

Y. Thor. Why, 'tis granted: come, walk then.
Suf. Nay, not too fast.

They fay flow things have beft perfection :

The gentle showre wets to fertility.

The churlish ftorm may mifchief with his bounty.

The bafer beasts take ftrength, even from the

womb :

But the Lord Lion's whelp is feeble long.

Exeunt.

Enter Dog.

Dog. Now for an early mischief and a fudden :
One touch from me

The minde's about it now.

Soon fets the body forward.

Enter Young Thorney, Sufan.

Y. Thor. Your request is out: yet will you leave me?

Suf. What? fo churlifhly? you'll make me ftay for ever,

Rather then part with such a found from you.

Y. Thor. Why you almost anger me. Pray you be

gone.

You have no company, and 'tis very early;
Some hurt may betide you homewards.

Suf. Tush, I fear none.

To leave you, is the greatest hurt I can suffer:
Besides, I expect your Father and mine own,
To meet me back, or overtake me with you.
They began to ftir when I came after you:
I know they'll not be long.

Y. Thor. So, I fhall have more trouble.

you

for that.

Dog rubs him. Then I'll ease all at once.

Thank 'Tis done now; what I ne'er thought on. You shall

not go back.

Suf. Why fhall I go along with thee? fweet

mufick!

Y. Thor. No, to a better place.

Suf. Any place, I:

I'm there at home, where thou pleasest to have me. Y. Thor. At home? I'll leave you

lodging.

I must kill you.

in your laft

Suf. Oh fine! you'ld fright me from you.
Y. Thor.

You fee I had no purpose: I'm unarm'd.

'Tis this minutes decree, and it must be. will ferve your turn.

Suf.

I'll not turn from it, if you

Look, this

be earst,

Sir.
Yet you may tell me wherefore you'll kill me.

Y. Thor. Because you are a whore.

Suf. There's one deep wound already a whore ? 'Twas even further from me then the thought Of this black hour: a whore?

Y. Thor. Yes, I'll prove it,

And you shall confess it. You are my whore,
No wife of mine. The word admits no fecond.
I was before wedded to another, have her still.
I do not lay the fin unto your charge,
'Tis all mine own. Your marriage was my theft.
For I efpous'd your dowry, and I have it:

I did not purpose to have added murther;

The Devil did not prompt me: till this minute
You might have safe returned; now you cannot :
You have dogg'd your own death.

Suf. And I deserve it.

I'm glad my fate was fo intelligent.

[Stabs her.

'Twas fome good Spirits motion. Die? Oh, 'twas time !

How many years might I have slept in fin?

Sin of my moft hatred too, Adultery?

Y. Thor. Nay, fure 'twas likely that the moft was paft;

For I meant never to return to you

After this parting.

Suf. Why then I thank you more,

You have done lovingly, leaving your self,

That you would thus beftow me on another.

Thou art my Husband, Death, and I embrace thee
With all the love I have. Forget the stain

Of my unwitting fin: and then I come
A Chrystal Virgin to thee. My Soul's purity
Shall with bold Wings afcend the Doors of Mercy;
For Innocence is ever her Companion.

Y. Thor. Not yet mortal? I would not linger you, Or leave you a tongue to blab.

Suf. Now heaven reward you ne'er the worse for

me.

I did not think that death had been fo fweet;

Nor I fo apt to love him.

I could ne'er die better,

Had I ftaid forty yeers for preparation :

For I'm in charity with all the World.

Let me for once be thine example, Heaven;
Do to this man as I him free forgive.

And may he better die, and better live.

Moritur.

Y. Tho. 'Tis done; and I am in: once past our height,

We scorn the deepft Abyss. This follows now,
To heal her wounds by dreffing of the Weapon:
Arms, thighs, hands, any place; we must not fail,
[Wounds himfelj.
Light fcratches giving fuch deep ones. The bet

I can

To binde my felf to this Tree. Now's the ftorm,
Which if blown o're, many fair days may follow.

So, fo, I'm faft; I did not think I could
Have done fo well behinde me.

[Dog ties him.

How profperous

And effectual mischief fometimes is? Help, help; Murther, murther, murther.

my Child, my Son.

Cart. Sufan, Girl, Child. Not speak to thy Father Hah!

Y. Tho. O lend me fome affiftance to o'retake

this hapless woman.

O. Thor. Let's o'retake the murtherers.

Speak

whilft thou canst; anon may be too late. I fear thou haft deaths mark upon thee too.

Y. Thor. I know them both; yet such an Oath is pafs'd,

As pulls damnation up if it be broke;

I dare not name 'em think what forc'd men do.
O. Thor. Keep oath with murtherers? that were
a confcience to hold the Devil in.

Y. Thor. Nay, Sir, I can defcribe 'em ;
Shall fhew them as familiar as their names.
The Taller of the two at this time wears
His Satten-doublet white, but Crimson lin'd;
Hofe of black Satten, Cloak of Scarlet.

O. Thor. Warbeck, Warbeck, Warbeck: Do you lift to this, Sir?

Cart. Yes, yes, I listen you: here's nothing to be heard.

Y. Thor. Th' others Cloak branch'd Velvet black, Velvet lin'd his Suit,

O. Thor. I have 'em already: Somerton, Somerton. Binal revenge, all this. Come, Sir, the first work Is to pursue the Murtherers, when we have remov'd These mangled bodies hence.

Cart. Sir, take that Carcafe there, and give me this.

I'll not own her now; she's none of mine.

Bob me off with a dumb shew? No, I'll have life.
This is my Son too, and while there's life in him,
'Tis half mine; take you halfe that filence for❜t.
When I fpeak, I look to be spoken to: forgetful
Slut?

O. Thor. Alas! what grief may do now?

Look, Sir, I'll take this load of sorrow with me.

Cart. I, do, and I'll have this.

Sir?

Y. Thor. O, very ill, Sir.

How do you,

Cart. Yes, I think fo; but 'tis well you can speak

yet.

There's no mufick but in found, found it must be.

I have not wept these twenty yeers before,