_Sost_. Come living image of thy dead mother, And take my loving farewell, ere we part. I love thee dearly for thy fathers sake, But for thy mothers dote with jealousie. Oh I do feare, before I see thy face, Or thou or I shall taste of bitternesse. Kisse me, sweete boy, and, kissing, folde thine Aunte Within the circle of thy little armes. I neede not feare, death cannot offer wrong; The majestie of thy presaging face, Would vanquish him, though nere so terrible. The angry Lionesse that is bereav'd Of her imperious crew of forrest kings, Would leave her furie, and defend thee safe From Wolves, from Panthers, Leopards, and Shee Beares, That live by rapine, stealth and crueltie. Therefore to God I do commend thy state, Who will be sure to guard thee tenderly. And now to you, that carry hence this wealth, This precious Jewell, this unprized good, Have a regarde to use him carefully, When he is parted from that serious care, Which was imployde for his securitie. I urge it not, that I misdoubt your truth; I hope his Unckle doth perswade himselfe You will be courteous, kinde, and affable. Ther's some rewarde for hoped carefulnesse. _Allen_. Now by my soule I do suspect the men, Especially the lower of the two: See, what a hollow discontented looke He casts, which brings apparant cause of feare: The other, though he seeme more courteous, Yet dooth his lookes presadge this thought in me. As if he scorn'd to thinke on courtesie. _Fall_. Upon my life, my sonne you are to blame, The gentlemen are honest, vertuous, And will protect _Pertillo_ happily. These thoughts proceed out of aboundant love, Because you grieve to leave his company. If ought betide him otherwise then well, Let God require due vengaunce on my head, And cut my hopes from all prosperitie. _Allen_. A heavie sentence, full of wondrous feare: I cannot choose but credit such a vowe. Come hether then, my joy, my chiefest hopes, My second selfe, my earthly happinesse, Lend me thy little prety cherry lip, To kisse me, cozen; lay thy little hand Upon my cheeke, and hug me tenderly. Would the cleere rayes of thy two glorious sunnes Could penetrate the corners of my heart, That thou might see how much I tender thee. My friends, beholde, within this little bulke Two perfect bodyes are incorporate; His life holdes mine, his heart conteines my hart, His every lim containes my every part; Without his being I can never be, He being dead, prepare to bury me. Oh thou immortall mover of the spheares Within their circled revolusions, Whose glorious image this small orphant beares, Wrought by thy all-sufficient majestie, Oh never suffer any wicked hand To harme this heavenly workmanship of thine, But let him live, great God, to honor thee With vertuous life and spotlesse pietie! _Per_. Cease, my kind cooze; I cannot choose but weepe, To see your care of my securitie.