_Zeno._ O my best _Arnoldo_!
The truest of all lovers! I would live
Were heaven so pleas'd, but to reward your sorrow
With my true service; but since that's denied me,
May you live long and happy: do not suffer
(By your affection to me I conjure you)
My sickness to infect you; though much love
Makes you too subject to it.

_Arn._ In this only

_Zenocia_ wrongs her servant; can the body
Subsist, the Soul departed? 'tis as easie
As I to live without you; I am your husband,
And long have been so, though our adverse fortune,
Bandying us from one hazard to another,
Would never grant me so much happiness,
As to pay a husbands debt; despite of fortune,
In death I'le follow you, and guard mine own;
And there enjoy what here my fate forbids me.

_Clod._ So true a sorrow, and so feelingly
Exprest, I never read of.

_Man._ I am struck
With wonder to behold it, as with pity.

_Char._ If you that are a stranger, suffer for them,
Being tied no further than humanity
Leads you to soft compassion; think great Sir,
What of necessity I must endure,
That am a Father?

Hippolyta, Zabulon, _and_ Sulpitia _at the door._

_Zab._ Wait me there, I hold it
Unfit to have you seen; as I find cause,
You shall proceed.

_Man._ You are welcom Lady.

_Hip._ Sir, I come to do a charitable office,
How does the patient?

_Clod._ You may enquire
Of more than one; for two are sick, and deadly,
He languishes in her, her health's despair'd of,
And in hers, his.

_Hip._ 'Tis a strange spectacle,
With what a patience they sit unmov'd!
Are they not dead already?

_Doct._ By her pulse,
She cannot last a day.

_Arn._ Oh by that summons,
I know my time too!

_Hip._ Look to the man.

_Clod._ Apply
Your Art, to save the Lady, preserve her,
A town is your reward.

_Hip. I'le treble it,
In ready gold, if you restore _Arnoldo_;
For in his death I dye too.

_Clod._ Without her
I am no more.

_Arn._ Are you there Madam? now
You may feast on my miseries; my coldness
In answering your affections, or hardness,
Give it what name you please, you are reveng'd of,
For now you may perceive, our thred of life
Was spun together, and the poor _Arnoldo_
Made only to enjoy the best _Zenocia_,
And not to serve the use of any other;
And in that she may equal; my Lord _Clodio_
Had long since else enjoyed her, nor could I
Have been so blind, as not to see your great
And many excellencies far, far beyond
Or my deservings, or my hopes; we are