_Rut._ The blest Saints pay for me The infinite debt I owe you. _Guio._ How he quakes! Thus far I feel his heart beat, be of comfort, Once more I give my promise for your safety, All men are subject to such accidents, Especially the valiant; and who knows not, But that the charity I afford this stranger My only Son else where may stand in need of? _Enter Officers, and Servants, with the body of Duarte--Page._ _1 Ser._ Now Madam, if your wisedom ever could Raise up defences against floods of sorrow That haste to overwhelm you, make true use of Your great discretion. _2 Ser._ Your only son My Lord _Duart's_ slain. _1 Off._ His murtherer, pursued by us Was by a boy discovered Entring your house, and that induced us To press into it for his apprehension. _Guio._ Oh! _1 Ser._ Sure her heart is broke. _Off._ Madam. _Guio._ Stand off. My sorrow is so dear and pretious to me, That you must not partake it, suffer it Like wounds that do breed inward to dispatch me. O my _Duart_, such an end as this Thy pride long since did prophesie; thou art dead, And to encrease my misery, thy sad Mother Must make a wilfull shipwrack of her vow Or thou fall unreveng'd. My Soul's divided, And piety to a son, and true performance Of hospitable duties to my guest, That are to others Angels, are my furies. Vengeance knocks at my heart, but my word given Denies the entrance, is no _Medium_ left, But that I must protect the murderer, Or suffer in that faith he made his altar? Motherly love give place, the fault made this way, To keep a vow, to which high Heaven is witness, Heaven may be pleas'd to pardon. _Enter_ Manuel, Doctors, Surgeons. _Man._ 'Tis too late, Hee's gone, past all recovery: now reproof Were but unseasonable when I should give comfort, And yet remember Sister. _Guio._ O forbear, Search for the murtherer, and remove the body, And as you think fit, give it burial. Wretch that I am, uncapable of all comfort, And therefore I intreat my friends and kinsfolk, And you my Lord, for some space to forbear Your courteous visitations. _Man._ We obey you. [_Exeunt omnes with the body._ Manet Guiomar. _Rut._ My Spirits come back, and now despair resigns Her place again to hope. _Guio._ What ere thou art To whom I have given means of life, to witness With what Religion I have kept my promise, Come fearless forth, but let thy face be cover'd, That I hereafter be not forc't to know thee, For motherly affection may return My vow once paid to heaven. Thou hast taken from me The respiration of my heart, the light Of my swoln eyes, in his life that sustain'd me: Yet my word given to save you, I make good, Because what you did, was not done with malice, You are not known, there is no mark about you That can discover you; let not fear betray you. With all convenient speed you can, flie from me That I may never see you; and that want Of means may be no let unto your journie, There are a hundred Crownes: you are at the door now, And so Farewell for ever.