INGEN. No earthly lord can pull her out of that, Till he have pluck'd my heart first out. My lord, Were't not inhospitable, I could wrong you here In my own house. I am so full of woe For your lost sister, that by all my joys Hoped for in her, my heart weeps tears of blood: A whiter virgin and a worthier Had ne'er creation; Leda's swan was black To her virginity and immaculate thoughts. PROUDLY. Where hast thou hid her? give her me again; For, by the God of vengeance, be she lost, The female hate shall spring betwixt our names Shall never die, while one of either house Survives: our children shall, at seven years old, Strike knives in one another. INGEN. Let hell gape And take me quick, if I know where she is; But am so charg'd with sorrow for her loss, Being the cause of it (as no doubt I am), That I had rather fall upon my sword [_Offering to kill himself._ Than breathe a minute longer. BRO. O sir! hold. PROUDLY. Thou shalt not need; I have a sword to bathe In thy false blood, inhumane murderer. MAID. Good sir, be pacified: I'll go, I'll run Many a mile to find your sister out. She never was so desperate of grace By violence to rob herself of life, And so her soul endanger. Comfort, sir; She's but retired somewhere, on my life. INGEN. Prythee, let me alone-- [_To his brother._ Do I stand to defend that wretched life, That is in doubt of hers? here, worthy lord, Behold a breast fram'd of thy sister's love; Hew it, for thou shalt strike but on a stock, Since she is gone that was the cause it liv'd. PROUDLY. Out, false dissembler! art not married? INGEN. No; behold it is my younger brother dress'd; [_Plucks of his head-tire._ A man, no woman, that hath gull'd the world, Intended for a happier event Than this that follow'd, that she now is gone. O fond experiments of simple man! Fool to thy fate, since all thy project, meant But mirth, is now converted unto death. MAID. O, do not burst me, joy! that modesty [_Aside._ Would let me show myself to finish all! PROUDLY. Nay, then thou hast my sister somewhere, villain! 'Tis plain now thou wilt steal thy marriage. She is no match for thee, assure thyself. If all the law in England or my friends Can cross it, 't shall not be. INGEN. Would 'twere so well, And that I knew the lady to be safe! Give me no ill-words. Sir, this boy and I Will wander like two pilgrims till we find her. If you do love her as you talk, do so: The love or grief that is express'd in words, Is slight and easy; 'tis but shallow woe That makes a noise; deep'st waters stillest go. I love her better than thy parents did, Which is beyond a brother.