_Hip._ It is in vain To strive with destiny, here my dotage ends, Look up _Zenocia_, health in me speaks to you; She gives him to you, that by divers ways, So long has kept him from you: and repent not, That you were once my servant, for which health In recompence of what I made you suffer, The hundred thousand Crowns, the City owes me, Shall be your dower. _Man._ 'Tis a magnificent gift, Had it been timely given. _Hip._ It is believe it, _Sulpitia_. _Enter a_ Servant, _and_ Sulpitia. _Sulp._ Madam. _Hip._ Quick, undoe the charm; Ask not a reason why; let it suffice, It is my will. _Sulp._ Which I obey and gladly. [_Exit._ _Man._ Is to be married, sayest thou? _Ser._ So she sayes Sir, And does desire your presence. [_They are born off in chairs._ _Man._ And tell her I'le come. _Hip._ Pray carry them to their rest; for though already, They do appear as dead, let my life pay for't, If they recover not. _Man._ What you have warranted, Assure your self, will be expected from you; Look to them carefully; and till the tryal,-- _Hip._ Which shall not be above four hours. _Man._ Let me Intreat your companies: there is something Of weight invites me hence. _All._ We'll wait upon you. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Guiomar, _and_ Servants. _Guio._ You understand what my directions are, And what they guide you to; the faithfull promise You have made me all. _All._ We do and will perform it. _Guio._ The Governour will not fail to be here presently; Retire a while, till you shall find occasion, And bring me word, when they arrive. _All._ Wee shall Madam. _Guio._ Only stay you to entertain. _1 Ser._ I am ready. _Guio._ I wonder at the bold, and practis'd malice, Men ever have o' foot against our honours, That nothing we can do, never so vertuous, No shape put on so pious, no not think What a good is, be that good ne're so noble, Never so laden with admir'd example, But still we end in lust; our aims, our actions, Nay, even our charities, with lust are branded; Why should this stranger else, this wretched stranger, Whose life I sav'd at what dear price sticks here yet, Why should he hope? he was not here an hour, And certainly in that time, I may swear it I gave him no loose look, I had no reason; Unless my tears were flames, my curses courtships; The killing of my Son, a kindness to me. Why should he send to me, or with what safety (Examining the ruine he had wrought me) Though at that time, my pious pity found him, And my word fixt; I am troubled, strongly troubled. _Enter a_ Servant. _Ser._ The Gentlemen are come. _Guio._ Then bid 'em welcome--I must retire. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Rutilio, _and_ Duarte. _Ser._ You are welcom Gentlemen. _Rut._ I thank you friend, I would speak with your Lady. _Ser._ I'le let her understand. _Rut._ It shall befit you. How do I look Sir, in this handsome trim? [_Exit_ Servant. Me thinks I am wondrous brave. _Duar._ You are very decent.