That made these branches meet, and twine together,
Never to be divided: The god that sings
His holy numbers over marriage beds,
Hath knit their noble hearts, and here they stand
Your Children mighty King, and I have done.

_King_. How, how?

_Are_. Sir, if you love it in plain truth,
For there is no Masking in't; This Gentleman
The prisoner that you gave me is become
My keeper, and through all the bitter throws
Your jealousies and his ill fate have wrought him,
Thus nobly hath he strangled, and at length
Arriv'd here my dear Husband.

_King_. Your dear Husband! call in
The Captain of the Cittadel; There you shall keep
Your Wedding. I'le provide a Mask shall make
Your Hymen turn his Saffron into a sullen Coat,
And sing sad Requiems to your departing souls:
Bloud shall put out your Torches, and instead
Of gaudy flowers about your wanton necks,
An Ax shall hang like a prodigious Meteor
Ready to crop your loves sweets. Hear you gods:
From this time do I shake all title off,
Of Father to this woman, this base woman,
And what there is of vengeance, in a Lion
Cast amongst Dogs, or rob'd of his dear young,
The same inforc't more terrible, more mighty,
Expect from me.

_Are_. Sir,
By that little life I have left to swear by,
There's nothing that can stir me from my self.
What I have done, I have done without repentance,
For death can be no Bug-bear unto me,
So long as _Pharamond_ is not my headsman.

_Di_. Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy maid
When ere thou dyest; for this time I'le excuse thee,
Or be thy Prologue.

_Phi_. Sir, let me speak next,
And let my dying words be better with you
Than my dull living actions; if you aime
At the dear life of this sweet Innocent,
Y'are a Tyrant and a savage Monster;
Your memory shall be as foul behind you
As you are living, all your better deeds