+Zor.+ Madam, could I tell you what to say I Wou'd begin; I have nothing but poor thanks To offer to you, and those, though millions, were Not half enough. Compassion shown unto The miserable heaven can only recompence; Therefore, in my dying prayers, I will beg from thence A blessing to reward your pity. +Amph.+ Sir, The joy of your escape will pay my pains; All my endeavours I will set at work: The time is short, therefore I must make haste. Expect to hear of me again with speed. _Enter +Ortellus+, as she is going out._ +Zor.+ What can this mean? heaven grant she does not Love me; I wou'd not wish so brave a heart So great a punishment, since my love's fix'd already. +Ort.+ Madam, I have been seeking you; pray, whence Came you? This is no usual place to find you In. +Amph.+ I was only walking this way, sir. +Ort.+ I'll wait on you presently.--I suspect She has been at the prison; I will inform Myself by the jailor; and yet perhaps She has bid him to deny it. [_Steps back to the Jailor._ The lady Amphelia says she has left one of Her gloves behind her in the prison, and Has sent me for it. +Jail.+ I'll go see straight, sir. +Ort.+ She has been there, it seems, then. Madam, I Fancy you have been to see the prison. +Amph.+ Who, I? What makes you think so? +Ort.+ Why, am I mistaken? +Amph.+ Yes; what should I do there? +Ort.+ Nay, that's the question, But there you have been just now, and with the Pris'ner too. +Amph.+ Sure, you dream. +Ort.+ She's false, I find: I'll try her love to me. [_Aside._ Madam, since you Have been pleased to show your kindness publicly To me, I take this time to beg my happiness, Which is, that a priest may join our hands. +Amph.+ I will not marry yet. +Ort.+ Why, pray, madam? +Amph.+ For a very good reason, because I ha'n't A mind to't. +Ort.+ Will you give me another reason? +Amph.+ I need not: that's sufficient. +Ort.+ You love me, do you not? +Amph.+ You know I have declar'd it. +Ort.+ But (sure) you'll not deny me twice? +Amph.+ Not, if you ask but once. +Ort.+ Fie, fie, this modesty's a thief to lovers, And robs them of their time. Come, come, Say aye, and blush. +Amph.+ I'll not say aye, nor blush. +Ort.+ If you had any modesty, you wou'd. +Amph.+ You said Just now I had too much. +Ort.+ Too much Of impudence, you mean. +Amph.+ What's that to say? +Ort.+ Why, truth. +Amph.+ Get you out, and wash your tongue: 'Tis foul. +Ort.+ 'Tis like you heart then, But that it cannot lie as much.