ncere as does the timorous heart
When he ore heares the featherd arrow sing
His funerall Dirge.

_Bel_. Can this be possible?

_Bon_. No sismatick, reduc'd to the true faith,
Can more abhorre the Error he has left
Than I do mine. I do beleive thee chast
As the straight palme; as absolute from spots
As the immaculate Ermine, who does choose,
When he is hunted by the frozen _Russe_,
To meete the toyle ere he defile the white
Of his rich skin. What seas of teares will serve
To expiatt the scandall I have throwne
On holy Innocence?

_Bel_. Well, I forgive you;
But ere I seale your pardon I in[j]oyne
This as a pennance: you shall now declare
The author of your wrong report.

_Bon_. Your mother.

_Bel_. How! my mother?

_Bon_. No creature else
Could have inducd me to such a madnes.

_Bel_. Defend me gracious virtue! is this man
Not desperate of remission, that without
Sense of compu[n]ction dares imagine lies
Soe horrible and godlesse? My disgrace
Was wrong sufficient to tempt mercie, yet
Cause twas my owne I pardond it; but this
Inferd toth piety of my guiltless mother
Stops all indulgence.

_Bon_. Will you not heare me out?

_Bel_. Your words will deafe me;
I doe renounce my affection to you; when
You can speake truth, protest you love agen.
[_Exit_.

_Bon_. Contempt repaid with scorne; tis my desert;
Poyson soone murders a love wounded heart.

[_Exit_.

(SCENE 2.)

_Enter Belisea, Clariana and Thorowgood_.

_Bel_. You may declare your will[97] here are no eares
But those I will not banish, were your busines
More secret.

_Tho_. Lady, I come to free
My worthy freind and your owne servant, _Bonvill_,
From an uniust suspition your conceite
Retaines of him. Your mother did employ me
In the unlucky message that pronouncd you
Empty of honor.

_Bel_. Has your worthles freind
Hird you to sweare this?

_Tho_. I'me none that live
By selling oathes.

_Bel_. Ile scarce believ't; he shall not
With all his cunning policie regaine
My good opinion of him. Sir, you cannot
Doe a more pleasing office then to leave me:
I do not love to heare of him.

_Tho_. Your pleasure rules me. [_Exit_.

_Cla_. _Belisea_, you did ill
Not to heare out the Gent[leman].

_Bel_. Prethe why?
His owne confession does appeach him one
In the conspiracy against my honor.
He sayes my mother was the originall
Of _Bonviles_