ds be in your throats, and slaughter
Be every where about you like your flatterers.
Do, kill me.

_Arb_.

Prethee be tamer, good _Mardonius,_
Thou know'st I love thee, nay I honour thee,
Believe it good old Souldier, I am thine;
But I am rack'd clean from my self, bear with me,
Woot thou bear with me my _Mardonius?_

_Enter_ Gobrias.

_Mar_.

There comes a good man, love him too, he's temperate,
You may live to have need of such a vertue,
Rage is not still in fashion.

_Arb_.

Welcome good _Gobrias_.

_Gob_.

My service and this letter to your Grace.

_Arb_.

From whom?

_Gob_.

From the rich Mine of vertue and beauty,
Your mournfull Sister.

_Arb_.

She is in prison, _Gobrias,_ is she not?

_Gob_.

She is Sir, till your pleasure to enlarge her,
Which on my knees I beg. Oh 'tis not fit,
That all the sweetness of the world in one,
The youth and vertue that would tame wild Tygers,
And wilder people, that have known no manners,
Should live thus cloistred up; for your loves sake,
If there be any in that noble heart,
To her a wretched Lady, and forlorn,
Or for her love to you, which is as much
As nature and obedience ever gave,
Have pity on her beauties.

_Arb_.

Pray thee stand up; 'Tis true, she is too fair,
And all these commendations but her own,
Would thou had'st never so commended her,
Or I nere liv'd to have heard it _Gobrias;_
If thou but know'st the wrong her beautie does her,
Thou wouldst in pity of her be a lyar,
Thy ignorance has drawn me wretched man,
Whither my self nor thou canst well tell: O my fate!
I think she loves me, but I fear another
Is deeper in her heart: How thinkst thou _Gobrias_?

_Gob_.

I do beseech your Grace believe it not,
For let me perish if it be not false. Good Sir, read her Letter.

_Mar_.

This Love, or what a devil it is I know not, begets more mischief
than a Wake. I had rather be well beaten, starv'd, or lowsie,
than live within the Air on't. He that had seen this brave fellow
Charge through a grove of Pikes but t'other day, and look upon
him now, will ne'r believe his eyes again: if he continue thus
but two days more, a Taylor may beat him with one hand tied
behind him.

_Arb_.

Alas, she would be at liberty.
And there be a thousand reasons _Gobrias,_
Thousands that will deny't:
Which if she knew, she would contentedly
Be where she