_Theo._ But now Sir, You were my comfort: if any thing afflict ye Am not I fit to bear a part on't? and by your own rule? _Phil._ No; if you could heal, as you have wounded me, But 'tis not in your power. _Theo._ I fear intemperance. _Phil._ Nay, do not seek to shun me: I must see you: By heaven I must: hoa, there mine Host: a Candle: Strive not, I will not stir ye. _Theo._ Noble Sir This is a breach of promise. _Phil._ Tender Lady It shall be none but necessary: hoa, there, Some light, some light for heavens sake. _Theo._ Will ye betray me? Are ye a Gentleman? _Phil._ Good woman: _Theo._ Sir. _Enter_ Diego _with a light._ _Phil._ If I be prejudicial to you, curse me. _Dieg._ Ye are early stirring Sir. _Phil._ Give me your Candle And so good morrow for a while. _Dieg._ Good morrow Sir. [_Exit._ _Theo._ My Brother Don _Philippo_: nay Sir, kill me I ask no mercy Sir, for none dare know me, I can deserve none: As ye look upon me Behold in infinite these foul dishonors, My noble Father, then your self, last all That bear the name of kindred, suffer in me: I have forgot whose child I am; whose Sister: Do you forget the pity tied to that: Let not compassion sway you: you will be then As foul as I, and bear the same brand with me, A favourer of my fault: ye have a sword Sir, And such a cause to kill me in. _Phil._ Rise Sister, I wear no sword for Women: nor no anger While your fair chastity is yet untouch'd. _Theo._ By those bright Stars, it is Sir. _Phil._ For my Sister I do believe ye: and so neer blood has made us With the dear love I ever bore your virtues That I will be a Brother to your griefs too: Be comforted, 'tis no dishonor Sister To love, nor to love him you do: he is a Gentleman Of as sweet hopes, as years, as many promises, As there be growing Truths, and great ones. _Theo._ O Sir[!] _Phil._ Do not despair. _Theo._ Can ye forgive? _Phil._ Yes Sister, Though this be no small error, a far greater. _Theo._ And think me still your Sister? _Phil._ My dear Sister. _Theo._ And will you counsel me? _Phil._ To your own peace too: Ye shall love still. _Theo._ How good ye are! _Phil._ My business, And duty to my Father: which now drew me From _Salamanca_ I will lay aside And only be your Agent to perswade ye To leave both love, and him, and well retire ye. _Theo._ Oh gentle Brother. _Phil._ I perceive 'tis folly: Delaies in love, more dangerous. _Theo._ Noble Brother. _Phil._ Fear not, I'll run your own way: and to help you, Love havi[n]g rackt your passions beyond counsel: I'll hazard mine own fame: whither shall we venture? _Theo._ Alas, I know not Sir!