_Lisan._ In this thicket I will expect you: Here yet I have leisure To call my self unto a strict account For my pass'd life, how vainly spent: I would I stood no farther guilty: but I have A heavier reckoning to make: This hand Of late as white as innocence, and unspotted, Now wears a purple colour, dy'd in gore, My soul of the same tincture; pur-blind passion, With flattering hopes, would keep me from despair, Pleading I was provok'd to it; but my reason Breaking such thin and weak defences, tells me I have done a double murther; and for what? Was it in service of the King? his Edicts Command the contrary: or for my Country? Her _Genius_, like a mourning mother, answers In _Cloridon_, and _Chrysanthes_ she hath lost Two hopeful sons, that might have done their parts, To guard her from Invasion: for what cause then? To keep th' opinion of my valour upright, I'th' popular breath, a sandy ground to build on; Bought with the Kings displeasure, as the breach Of Heavens decrees, the loss of my true comforts, In Parents, Kinsmen, Friends, as the fruition Of all that I was born to, and that sits Like to a hill of Lead here, in my exile, (Never to be repeal'd, if I escape so) I have cut off all hopes ever to look on _Enter_ Lidian, _like a Hermite._ Divine _Calista_, from her sight, and converse, For ever banish'd. _Lid._ I should know this voice, His naming too my Sister, whom _Lisander_ Honour'd, but in a noble way, assures me That it can be no other: I stand bound To comfort any man I find distress'd: But to aid him that sav'd my life, Religion And Thankfulness commands, and it may be High providence for this good end hath brought him Into my solitary walk. _Lisander_, noble _Lisander_. _Lis._ Whatsoe'er thou art, That honorable attribute thou giv'st me, I can pretend no right to: come not near me, I am infectious, the sanctity Of thy profession (for thou appearest A reverend _Hermite_) if thou flye not from me, As from the Plague or Leprosie, cannot keep thee From being polluted. _Lid._ With good counsel, Sir, And holy prayers to boot I may cure you, Though both wayes so infected. You look wildly, Peace to your conscience, Sir, and stare upon me, As if you never saw me: hath my habit Alter'd my face so much, that yet you know not Your servant _Lidian_? _Lis._ I am amaz'd! So young, and so religious? _Lid._ I purpose (Heaven make me thankful for't) to leave the world: I have made some trial of my strengths in this My solitary life; and yet I find not A faintness to go on. _Lis._ Above belief: do you inhabit here?