_Luce._ He shall have many: [_Exeunt Coffin-carrier and Boy._ Good friends depart a little, whilst I take My leave of this dead man, that once I lov'd: Hold, yet a little, life, and then I give thee To thy first heavenly being; O my friend! Hast thou deceiv'd me thus, and got before me? I shall not long be after, but believe me, Thou wert too cruel _Jasper_ 'gainst thy self, In punishing the fault I could have pardoned, With so untimely death; thou didst not wrong me, But ever wer't most kind, most true, most loving; And I the most unkind, most false, most cruell. Didst thou but ask a tear? I'll give thee all, Even all my eyes can pour down, all my sigh's And all my self, before thou goest from me There are but sparing Rites: But if thy soul Be yet about this place, and can behold And see what I prepare to deck thee with, It s[h]all go up, born on the wings of peace, And satisfied: first will I sing thy Dirge, Then kiss thy pale lips, and then dye my self, And fill one Coffin and one grave together. SONG. _Come you whose loves are dead,_ _And whilst I sing_ _Weep and wring_ _Every hand and every head,_ _Bind with Cipress and sad Ewe,_ _Ribbands black, and Candles blue,_ _For him that was of men most true._ _Come with heavy mourning,_ _And on his grave_ _Let him have_ _Sacrifice of sighs and groaning,_ _Let him have fair flowers enow,_ _White and purple, green and yellow,_ _For him that was of men most true._ Thou sable cloth, sad cover of my joys, I lift thee up, and thus I meet with death. _Jasp._ And thus you meet the living. _Luce._ Save me Heaven. _Jasp._ Nay, do not flye me fair, I am no spirit, Look better on me, do you know me yet? _Luce._ O thou dear shadow of my friend. _Jasp._ Dear substance, I swear I am no shadow feel my hand, It is the same it was, I am your _Jasper_, Your _Jasper_ that's yet living, and yet loving, Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proof I put in practice of your constancy: For sooner should my sword have drunk my blood, And set my soul at liberty, than drawn The least drop from that body, for which boldness Doom me to any thing: if death, I take it And willingly. _Luce._ This death I'll give you for it, So, now I am satisfied: you are no spirit, But my own truest, truest, truest friend, Why do you come thus to me? _Jasp._ First, to see you, Then to convey you hence. _Luce._ It cannot be, For I am lockt up here, and watcht at all hours, That 'tis impossible for me to scape.