n. O thou grand Fool,
That thou knew'st but thy fortune-- [_Musick done._

_Cler._ Peace, good Madam,
Stop her mouth, _Dinant_, it sleeps yet, 'pray be wary,
Dispatch, I cannot endure this misery,
I can hear nothing more; I'll say my prayers,
And down again-- [_Whistle within._
A thousand Alarms fall upon my quarters,
Heaven send me off; when I lye keeping Courses.
Pl---- o' your fumbling, _Dinant_; how I shake!
'Tis still again: would I were in the _Indies_. [_Exit_ Cler.

_Enter_ Dinant, _and_ Lamira: _a light within_.

_Din._ Why do you use me thus? thus poorly? basely?
Work me into a hope, and then destroy me?
Why did you send for me? this new way train me?

_Lam._ Mad-man, and fool, and false man, now I'll shew thee.

_Din._ 'Pray put your light out.

_Lam._ Nay I'll hold it thus,
That all chaste Eyes may see thy lust, and scorn it.
Tell me but this when you first doted on me,
And made suit to enjoy me as your Wife,
Did you not hold me honest?

_Din._ Yes, most vertuous.

_Lam._ And did not that appear the only lustre
That made me worth your love and admiration?

_Din._ I must confess--

_Lam._ Why would you deal so basely?
So like a thief, a Villain?

_Din._ Peace, good Madam.

_Lam._ I'll speak aloud too; thus maliciously,
Thus breaking all the Rules of honesty,
Of honour and of truth, for which I lov'd you,
For which I call'd you servant, and admir'd you;
To steal that Jewel purchas'd by another,
Piously set in Wedlock, even that Jewel,
Because it had no flaw, you held unvaluable:
Can he that has lov'd good, dote on the Devil?
For he that seeks a Whore, seeks but his Agent;
Or am I of so wild and low a blood?
So nurs'd in infamies?

_Din._ I do not think so,
And I repent.

_Lam._ That will not serve your turn, Sir.

_Din._ It was your treaty drew me on.

_Lam._ But it was your villany
Made you pursue it; I drew you but to try
How much a man, and nobly thou durst stand,
How well you had deserv'd the name of vertuous;
But you like a wild torrent, mix'd with all
Beastly and base affections came floating on,
Swelling your poyson'd billows--

_Din._ Will you betray me?

_Lam._ To all the miseries a vext Woman may.

_Din._ Let me but out,
Give me but room to toss my Sword about me,
And I will tell you y'are a treacherous woman,
O that I had but words!

_Lam._ They will not serve you.

_Din._ But two-edg'd words to cut thee; a Lady