_Hip._ You courteous Gallant, You that scorn all I can bestow, that laugh at The afflictions, and the groans I suffer for you, That slight and jeer my love, contemn the fortune My favours can fling on you, have I caught you? Have I now found the cause? ye fool my wishes; Is mine own slave, my bane? I nourish that That sucks up my content. I'le pray no more, Nor wooe no more; thou shalt see foolish man, And to thy bitter pain and anguish, look on The vengeance I shall take, provok'd and slighted; Redeem her then, and steal her hence: ho _Zabulon_ Now to your work. _Enter_ Zabulon, _and_ Servants, _some holding_ Arnoldo, _some ready with a cord to strangle_ Zenocia. _Arn._ Lady, but hear me speak first, As you have pity. _Hip._ I have none. You taught me, When I even hung about your neck, you scorn'd me. _Zab._ Shall we pluck yet? _Hip._ No, hold a little _Zabulon_, I'le pluck his heart-strings first: now am I worthy A little of your love? _Arn._ I'le be your Servant, Command me through what danger you shall aime at, Let it be death. _Hip._ Be sure Sir, I shall fit you. _Arn._ But spare this Virgin. _Hip._ I would spare that villain first, Had cut my Fathers throat. _Arn._ Bounteous Lady, If in your sex there be that noble softness, That tenderness of heart, women are crown'd for-- _Zen._ Kneel not _Arnoldo_, doe her not that honour, She is not worthy such submission, I scorn a life depends upon her pity. Proud woman do thy worst, and arm thy anger With thoughts as black as Hell, as hot and bloody, I bring a patience here, shall make 'em blush, An innocence, shall outlook thee, and death too. _Arn._ Make me your slave, I give my freedom to ye, For ever to be fetter'd to your service; 'Twas I offended, be not so unjust then, To strike the innocent, this gentle maid Never intended fear and doubt against you: She is your Servant, pay not her observance With cruel looks, her duteous faith with death. _Hip._ Am I fair now? now am I worth your liking? _Zen._ Not fair, not to be liked, thou glorious Devil, Thou vernisht piece of lust, thou painted fury. _Arn._ Speak gently sweet, speak gently. _Zen._ I'le speak nobly. 'Tis not the saving of a life I aim at, Mark me lascivious woman, mark me truly, And then consider, how I weigh thy anger. Life is no longer mine, nor dear unto me, Than usefull to his honour I preserve it. If thou hadst studied all the courtesies Humanity and noble blood are linkt to, Thou couldst not have propounded such a benefit, Nor heapt upon me such unlookt for honour As dying for his sake, to be his Martyr, 'Tis such a grace. _Hip._ You shall not want that favour, Let your bones work miracles. _Arn._ Dear Lady By those fair eyes-- _Hip._ There is but this way left ye To save her life.-- _Arn._ Speak it, and I embrace it. _Hip._ Come to my private chamber presently, And there, what love and I command-- _Arn._ I'le doe it, Be comforted _Zenocia_.