You're welcome Sister, and would to heaven I could so bid you by another name: If you above love not such sins as these, Circle my heart with thoughts as cold as snow To quench these rising flames that harbour here. _ [P]an_. Sir, does it please you I should speak? _Arb_. Please me? I, more than all the art of musick can, Thy speech doth please me, for it ever sounds, As thou brought'st joyfull unexpected news; And yet it is not fit thou shouldst be heard. I pray thee think so. _Pan_. Be it so, I will. Am I the first that ever had a wrong So far from being fit to have redress, That 'twas unfit to hear it? I will back To prison, rather than disquiet you, And wait till it be fit. _Arb_. No, do not goe; For I will hear thee with a serious thought: I have collected all that's man about me Together strongly, and I am resolv'd To hear thee largely, but I do beseech thee, Do not come nearer to me, for there is Something in that, that will undoe us both. _Pan_. Alas Sir, am I venome? _Arb_. Yes, to me; Though of thy self I think thee to be In equall degree of heat or cold, As nature can make: yet as unsound men Convert the sweetest and the nourishing'st meats Into diseases; so shall I distemper'd, Do thee, I pray thee draw no nearer to me. _Pan_. Sir, this is that I would: I am of late Shut from the world, and why it should be thus, Is all I wish to know. _Arb_. Why credit me _Panthea_, Credit me that am thy brother, Thy loving brother, that there is a cause Sufficient, yet unfit for thee to know, That might undoe thee everlastingly, Only to hear, wilt thou but credit this? By Heaven 'tis true, believe it if thou canst. _Pan_. Children and fools are ever credulous, And I am both, I think, for I believe; If you dissemble, be it on your head; I'le back unto my prison: yet me-thinks I might be kept in some place where you are; For in my self, I find I know not what To call it, but it is a great desire To see you often. _Arb_. Fie, you come in a step, what do you mean? Dear sister, do not so: Alas _Panthea_, Where I am would you be? Why that's the cause You are imprison'd, that you may not be Where I am. _Pan_. Then I must indure it Sir, Heaven keep you. _Arb_. Nay, you shall hear the case in short _Panthea_, And when thou hear'st it, thou wilt blush for me, And hang thy head down like a Violet Full of the mornings dew: There is a way To gain thy freedome, but 'tis such a one As puts thee in worse bondage, and I know, Thou wouldst encounter fire, and make a proof Whether the gods have care of innocence, Rather than follow it: Know that I have lost, The only difference betwixt man and beast, My reason. _Pan_. Heaven forbid. _Arb_.