_Lady_. Enough, good friend; no more. Had a rude _Scythian_, ignorant of teares, Unlesse the wind enforcd them from his eyes, Heard this relation, sure he would have wept; And yet I cannot. I have lost all sense Of pitty with my womanhood, and now That once essentiall Mistress of my soule, Warme charity, no more inflames my brest Than does the glowewormes ineffectual fire The ha[n]d that touches it. Good sir, desist The agravation of your sad report; [_Weepe_ Ive to much greife already. _Tho_. It becomes you: You do appeare more glorious in these t[ears] Then the red morne when she adornes her cheeks With _Nabathean_ pearls: in such a posture Stand _Phaetons_ sisters when they doe distill Their much prisd amber. Madam, but resume Your banishd reason to you, and consider How many Iliads of preposterous mischeife From your intemperate breach of faith to me Fetch their loathed essence; thinke but on the love, The holy love I bore you, that we two --Had you bin constant--might have taught the wor[ld] Affections primitive purenes; when, from Your abrogation of it, Bonvills death, Your daughter['s] losse have luc[k]lessly insu'd. The streame that, like a Crocodile, did weepe Ore them whom with an over ravenous kisse Its moyst lips stifled, will record your fault In watery characters as lastingly As iff twere cut in marble. Heaven, forgive you; Ile pray for you; repent. [_Exeunt Thorowgood and Grimes_. _Grimes_. O, my deare Master! _Lady_. Repent! should I but spend The weakest accent of my breath in sighes Or vaine compunction, I should feare I sinnd Against my will, then which I doe confes Noe other diety. Passions[120] doe surround My intellectual powers; only my heart, Like to a Rocky Island, does advance Above the foming violence of the waves Its unmovd head, bids me my fate outdare. Ills sure prevention is a swift despaire. [_Exit_. ([SCENE] 2.) _Enter Alexander and Young Marlowe_. _Alex_. Thinke, sir, to whome the Iniury was don,--go to--your Lady Mother, a vertuous lady, I say and I sayt agen, a very vertuous lady. Had I but youth and strength as you have, in what cause should I sooner hazard both then in this? _Y. M_. Murder, my friend! _Alex_. Noe, tis doing sacrifice to slaunderd goodnes. _Y. M_. Rob my beloved Sister of a husband! _Alex_. Yes, to redeeme to your mother her lost honour. _Y. M_. Art not a Divell? _Alex_. Ha! _Y. M_. Thy breath has blasted me. _Alex_. I must confes indeed I have eaten garlicke.