_Bes_.

What do you mean, Sir?

_Arb_.

Hung round with Curses, take thy fearful flight Into the Desarts, where 'mongst all the Monsters If thou find'st one so beastly as thy self, Thou shalt be held as innocent.

_Bes_.

Good Sir.

_Arb_.

If there were no such instruments as thou, We Kings could never act such wicked deeds: Seek out a man that mocks Divinity, That breaks each precept both of God and man, And natures too, and does it without lust, Meerly because it is a law, and good, And live with him: for him thou canst not spoil.

Away I say, I will not do this sin.

[_Exit_ Bessus.

I'le press it here, till it do break my breast, It heaves to get out, but thou art a sin, And spight of torture I will keep thee in.

_ACTUS QUARTUS_.

_Enter_ Gobrias, Panthea, _and_ Spaconia.

_Gob_.

Have you written Madam?

_Pan_.

Yes, good _Gobrias_.

_Gob_.

And with a kindness, and such winning words As may provoke him, at one instant feel His double fault, your wrong, and his own rashness?

_Pan_.

I have sent words enough, if words may win him From his displeasure; and such words I hope, As shall gain much upon his goodness, _Gobrias_.

Yet fearing they are many, and a womans, A poor belief may follow, I have woven As many truths within 'em to speak for me, That if he be but gracious, and receive 'em--

_Gob_.

Good Lady be not fearful, though he should not Give you your present end in this, believe it, You shall feel, if your vertue can induce you To labour on't, this tempest which I know, Is but a poor proof 'gainst your patience: All those contents, your spirit will arrive at, Newer and sweeter to you; your Royal brother, When he shall once collect himself, and see How far he has been asunder from himself; What a meer stranger to his golden temper: Must from those roots of vertue, never dying, Though somewhat stopt with humour, shoot again Into a thousand glories, bearing his fair branches High as our hopes can look at, straight as justice, Loaden with ripe contents; he loves you dearly, I know it, and I hope I need not farther Win you to understand it.

_Pan_.

I believe it.

But howsoever, I am sure I love him dearly: So dearly, that if any thing I write For my enlarging should beget his anger, Heaven be a witness with me and my faith, I had rather live intomb'd here.

_Gob_.

You shall not feel a worse stroke than your grief, I am sorry 'tis so sharp, I kiss your hand, And this night will deliver this true story, With this hand to your Brother.

_ Pan._

Peace go with you, you are a good man.

[_Exit_ Gob.

My _Spaconia_, why are you ever sad thus?

_Spa_.

O dear Lady.

_Pan_.

Prethee discover not a way to sadness, Nearer than I have in me, our two sorrows Work like two eager Hawks, who shall get highest; How shall I lessen thine? for mine I fear Is easier known than cur'd.

_Spa_.

Heaven comfort both, And give you happy ends, however I Fall in my stubborn fortunes.

_Pan_.

This but teaches How to be more familiar with our sorrows, That are too much our masters: good _Spaconia_ How shall I do you service?

_Spa_.

Noblest Lady, You make me more a slave still to your goodness, And only live to purchase thanks to pay you, For that is all the business of my life: now I will be bold, since you will have it so, To ask a noble favour of you.

_Pan_.

Speak it, 'tis yours, for from so sweet a vertue, No ill demand has issue.

_Spa_.

Then ever vertuous, let me beg your will In helping me to see the Prince _Tigranes_, With whom I am equal prisoner, if not more.

_Pan_.

Reserve me to a greater end _Spaconia_; _Bacurius_ cannot want so much good manners As to deny your gentle visitation, Though you came only with your own command.