_Enter Teniente, Henrico, Manuell, Pedro (as a fryer); at another dore Eleonora_. _Mac_. Give the Lady roome there! _Clark_. Peace! _Mac_. Your facts are both so foule your hated lives Cannot be too soone shortned; therefore these Lords Hold it not fitt to lend you breath till morning, But now to cutt you off. _Both_. The stroke is welcome. _Pedro_. Shall I prepare you? _Hen_. Save your paynes, good father. _Man_. We have allready cast up our accounts And sent, we hope, our debts up into heaven. _Fer_. Our sorrowes & our sighes fly after them. _Ped_. Then your confession of the murther stands As you your selfe did sett it downe? _Man_. It does; But on my knees I beg this marginall note May sticke upon the paper; that no guilt, But feare of Tortures frighted me to take That horrid sin upon me. I am as innocent And free as are the starres from plotting treason Gainst their first mover. _Pedro_. I was then in _France_ When of your fathers murther the report Did fill all _Paris_. _Man_. Such a reverend habit Should not give harbour to so blacke a falshood. _Hen_. Tis blacke, & of my dying; for 'twas I To cheate my brother of my fathers lands, Layd this most hellish plott. _Fer_. 3[55] hellish sins, Robbery, Rape & Murther. _Hen_. I'me guilty of all Three; his soul's as white And cleare from murther as this holy man From killing mee. _Pedro_. No [know], there's a thing about me Shall strike thee into dust & make thy tongue With trembling to proclayme thyselfe a Villaine More then thou yet hast done:--See, tis my Eye. _Hen_. Oh, I am confounded! [_Falls_. _Man_. But I comforted With the most heavenly apparition Of my deare honourd father. _Fer_. Take thou comfort By two more apparitions, of a father And a lost daughter, yet heere found for thee. _Man_. Oh, noble sir, I pray forgive my brother. _Ele_. See, sir, I doe; & with my hand reach to him My heart to give him new life. _Fer_. Rise, my _Henrico_! _Mac_. Rise & receive a noble minded wife Worth troupes of other weomen. _Hen_. Shame leaves me speechles. _Pedro_. Gett thee a tongue againe, & pray, & mend. _Mac_. Letters shall forthwith fly into _Madrid_ To tell the King the storyes of Two Brothers, Worthy the Courtiers reading. Lovers, take hands: _Hymen_ & gentle faeryes strew your way: Our Sessions turnes into a Bridall day. _All_. Fare thee well, _Englishman_. _Pike_. I will ring peales of prayers of you all, My Lords & noble Dons. _Mac_. Doe soe, if thou hast iust cause: howsoever, When thy swift ship cutts through the curled mayne, Dance to see _England_, yet speake well of _Spayne_. _Pike_. I shall.--Where must I leave my pistoletts? _Gent_. Follow mee. [_Exeunt Omnes_. FINIS. INTRODUCTION TO _THE LADY MOTHER_.