MARIA. Sure, something spake, or else my feebled sense Hath lost the use of its due property; Which is more likely, than that in this place The voice of human creature should be heard. This is far distant from the paths of men: Nothing breathes here but wild and ravening beasts, With airy monsters, whose shadowing wings do seem To cast a veil of death on wicked livers;[388] Which I live dreadless of, and every hour Strive to meet death, who still unkind avoids me: But that now gentle famine doth begin For to give end to my calamities. See, here is carv'd upon this tree's smooth bark Lines knit in verse, a chance far unexpected! Assist me, breath, a little to unfold What they include. _The Writing._ _I that have writ these lines am one, whose sin Is more than grievous; for know, that I have been A breaker of my faith with one, whose breast Was all compos'd of truth: but I digress'd, And fled th' embrace[389] of his dear friendship's love, Clasping to falsehood, did a villain prove; As thus shall be express'd. My worthy friend Lov'd a fair beauty, who did condescend In dearest affection to his virtuous will; He then a night appointed to fulfil Hymen's bless'd rites, and to convey away His love's fair person, to which peerless prey I was acquainted made, and when the hour Of her escape drew on, then lust did pour Enraged appetite through all my veins, And base desires in me let loose the reins To my licentious will: and that black night, When my friend should have had his chaste delight, I feign'd his presence, and (by her thought him), Robb'd that fair virgin of her honour's gem: For which most heinous crime upon each tree I write this story, that men's eyes may see None but a damn'd one would have done like me._ Is Albert then become so penitent, As in these deserts to deplore his facts, Which his unfeign'd repentance seems to clear? How good man is when he laments his ill! Who would not pardon now that man's misdeeds, Whose griefs bewail them thus? could I now live, I would remit thy fault with Carracus: But death no longer will afford reprieve Of my abundant woes: wrong'd Carracus, farewell; Live, and forgive thy wrongs, for the repentance Of him that caused them so deserves from thee; And since my eyes do witness Albert's grief, I pardon Albert, in my wrongs the chief. _Enter_ ALBERT, _like a hermit_. ALB. How! pardon me? O sound angelical! But see, she faints. O heavens! now show your power, That these distilled waters, made in grief, May add some comfort to affliction: Look up, fair youth, and see a remedy. MAR. O, who disturbs me? I was hand in hand, Walking with death unto the house of rest.