When thou didst take them, hide thee from my eyes,
Would thou hadst taken Thunder on thy breast,
When thou didst take them, or been strucken dumb
For ever: that this foul deed might have slept in
silence.

_Thra_. Have you known him so ill temper'd?

_Cle_. Never before.

_Phi_. The winds that are let loose,
From the four several corners of the earth,
And spread themselves all over sea and land,
Kiss not a chaste one. What friend bears a sword
To run me through?

_Di_. Why, my Lord, are you so mov'd at this?

_Phi_. When any falls from vertue I am distract,
I have an interest in't.

_Di_. But good my Lord recal your self,
And think what's best to be done.

_Phi_. I thank you. I will do it;
Please you to leave me, I'le consider of it:
Tomorrow I will find your lodging forth,
And give you answer
The readiest way.

_Di_. All the gods direct you.

_Thra_. He was extream impatient.

_Cle_. It was his vertue and his noble mind.

[_Exeunt_ Di. Cle. _and_ Thra.

_Phi_. I had forgot to ask him where he took them,
I'le follow him. O that I had a sea
Within my breast, to quench the fire I feel;
More circumstances will but fan this fire;
It more afflicts me now, to know by whom
This deed is done, than simply that 'tis done:
And he that tells me this is honourable,
As far from lies, as she is far from truth.
O that like beasts, we could not grieve our selves,
With that we see not; Bulls and Rams will fight,
To keep their Females standing in their sight;
But take 'em from them, and you take at once
Their spleens away; and they will fall again
Unto their Pastures, growing fresh and fat,
And taste the waters of the springs as sweet,
As 'twas before, finding no start in sleep.
But miserable man; See, see you gods,

[_Enter_ Bellario.

He walks still; and the face you let him wear
W