the murderer,
Or suffer in that faith he made his altar?
Motherly love give place, the fault made this way,
To keep a vow, to which high Heaven is witness,
Heaven may be pleas'd to pardon.

_Enter_ Manuel, Doctors, Surgeons.

_Man._ 'Tis too late,
Hee's gone, past all recovery: now reproof
Were but unseasonable when I should give comfort,
And yet remember Sister.

_Guio._ O forbear,
Search for the murtherer, and remove the body,
And as you think fit, give it burial.
Wretch that I am, uncapable of all comfort,
And therefore I intreat my friends and kinsfolk,
And you my Lord, for some space to forbear
Your courteous visitations.

_Man._ We obey you. [_Exeunt omnes with the body._
Manet Guiomar.

_Rut._ My Spirits come back, and now despair resigns
Her place again to hope.

_Guio._ What ere thou art
To whom I have given means of life, to witness
With what Religion I have kept my promise,
Come fearless forth, but let thy face be cover'd,
That I hereafter be not forc't to know thee,
For motherly affection may return
My vow once paid to heaven. Thou hast taken from me
The respiration of my heart, the light
Of my swoln eyes, in his life that sustain'd me:
Yet my word given to save you, I make good,
Because what you did, was not done with malice,
You are not known, there is no mark about you
That can discover you; let not fear betray you.
With all convenient speed you can, flie from me
That I may never see you; and that want
Of means may be no let unto your journie,
There are a hundred Crownes: you are at the door now,
And so Farewell for ever.

_Rut._ Let me first fall
Before your feet, and on them pay the duty
I owe your goodness; next all blessings to you,
And Heaven restore the joyes I have bereft you,
With full increase hereafter, living be
The Goddess stil'd of Hospitalitie.

_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima._

_Enter Leopold, and Zenocia._

_Leo._ Fling off these sullen clouds, you are enter'd now
Into a house of joy and happiness,
I have prepar'd a blessing for ye.

_Zen._ Thank ye, my state would rather ask a curse.

_Leo._ You are peevish
And know not when ye are friended, I have us'd those means,
The Lady of this house, the noble Lady,
Will take ye as her own, and use ye graciously:
Make much of what you are, Mistris of that beautie,
And expose it not to such betraying sorrows,
When ye are old, and all those sweets hang wither'd,

_Enter_ Servant.

Then sit and sigh.

_Zen