is some queint devise of theirs
To hast your journey homeward out of _France_,
To terminate their long-desired marriage.

_Pedro_. The language of her letter speakes no such comfort,
But I will hasten home; &, for you are
So confident as not to thinke his honour
Any way toucht, your good hopes be your guide
Auspiciously to find it to your wish.
Therefore my counsaile is you post before,
And, if you find that such a wrong be done,
Let such provision instantly be
Betwixt you made to hide it from the world
By giving her due nuptiall satisfaction,
That I may heare no noise of't at my comming.
Oh, to preserve the Reputation
Of noble ancestry that nere bore stayne,
Who would not passe through fire or dive the mayne?

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 4.)

_Enter Fernando & Eleonora_.

_Fer_. Cease, Eleonora, cease these needles plaints,
Less usefull than thy helpe of hands was at
The deed of darkness,--oh, the blackest deed
That ever overclouded[29] my felicity!
To speake, or weepe thy sorrow, but allayes
And quenches anger, which we must now cherish
To further iust revenge. How I could wish
But to call backe the strength of Twenty yeares!

_Ele_. That I might be in that unborne againe, sir.

_Fer_. No, _Eleonora_, that I were so ennabled
With my owne hands to worke out thy wronge
Upon that wretch, that villaine, oh, that Ravisher!
But, though my hands are palsyed with rage,
The Law yet weares a sword in our defence.

_Enter Henrico_.

_Ele_. Away, my Lord & Father! see the monster
Approaching towards you! who knowes but now
He purposeth an assassinate on your life,
As he did lately on my Virgin honour?

_Fer_. Fury, keepe off me!

_Hen_. What life, what honour meane you? _Eleonora_,
What is the matter? Who hath lost anything?

_Ele_. Thou impudent as impious, I have lost--

_Hen_. Doe you call me names?

_Ele_. The solace of my life, for which--

_Hen_. A fine new name for a maydenhead!

_Ele_. May all the curses of all iniured weomen
Fall on thy head!

_Hen_. Would not the curses of all good ones serve?
So many might perhaps be borne: but, pray,
Tell me what moves you thus? Why stand you soe
Aloofe, my Lord? I doe not love to bee
Usd like a stranger: welcome's all I looke for.

_Fer_. What boldnesse beyond madnesse gives him languadge!
Nothing but well-bred stuffe! canst see my daughter
And not be strooke with horrour of thy shame
To th' very hear