EUG. I dare not send to fair Artemia: The sight of her and of so dear a sorrow As she would show, would but afflict me more. Perchance I may come safely off; till then I would conceal this accident from her. But fame is swiftest still, when she goes laden With news of mischief: she too soon will hear, And in her sorrow I shall doubly suffer. Thus are we fortune's pastimes: one day live Advanc'd to heaven by the people's breath, The next, hurl'd down into th' abyss of death. _Enter_ EUPHUES, ARTEMIA. EUPH. But are you sure 'tis hereabouts he lives? Ha! who is that? 'Tis he, and in the hands Of officers! Cousin, the mischief's done Before we come. ART. O my dear Eugeny! EUG. Artemia too! Ah me! she swoons! Help, help! Look up, my love! There is no fear at all For me; no danger: all is safe, and full Of hope and comfort. EUPH. She begins to come Unto herself again. EUG. But pray, sir, tell How came you hither, noble Euphues? EUPH. I never knew the place; but now, by her Instructions, found it out. I came to bear Her company, and her intent of coming Was to inform you of a danger near-- Of such a monstrous mischief, as perchance You scarce can credit. Old Sir Argent Scrape, By me and by another gentleman, Was overheard to say that he had scouts, And had laid certain plots to apprehend His kinsman Eugeny, just before th' assizes. Besides, what further means he did intend, Closely to work your death, he then declar'd To the old covetous lady, whom he came A suitor to. EUG. Prophetic Theodore, how right thou wert! EUPH. This thing, when I had heard, I told it her, and we with speed made hither; But ere we came, the mischief was fulfill'd. EUG. I thank you, sir, for this discovery: Howe'er I speed, pray pardon me, if I Shall by the hand of justice die your debtor. How soon from virtue and an honour'd spirit Man may receive what he can never merit! Be not thou cruel, my Artemia; Do not torment me with thy grief, and make Me die before my time: let hope a while Suspend thy sorrow; if the worst should fall, Thy sorrow would but more enfeeble me, And make me suffer faintly for thy sake. ART. If worst should fall, my love (which heaven forfend), How could I choose but suffer? EUPH. I will hope Your safety yet may well be wrought; and knowing Sir Argent's mind, you know what ways to trust. ART. Good cousin, help us with thy counsel now, If thou dost love my life. EUPH. Fear it not, cousin: If I may aid you, sir, in anything, You shall command it. EUG. Sir, I cannot thank you So much as it deserves: this timely favour, If not in life, yet shall at least in death Endear me to you. ART. Do not name that word, My dearest love!