_Vir._ All virtues, A mind as full of candor as the truth is, I, and a loving Lady. _Jul._ She must needs (I am bound in conscience to confess) deserve much. _Vir._ Nay, say beyond all these, she be so pious, That even on slaves condemn'd she showre her benefits, And melt their stubborn Bolts with her soft pitty, What think you then? _Pand._ For such a noble office, At these years, I should dote my self; take heed boy. _Jul._ If you be he, that have receiv'd these blessings, And this the Lady: love her, honor her; You cannot do too much, to shew your gratitude, Your greatest service will shew off too slender. _Vir._ This is the Lady; Lady of that bounty, That wealth, that noble name, that all I spoke of: The Prince _Ascanio_ and my self, the slaves Redeem'd, brought home, still guarded by her goodness, And of our liberties you tast the sweetness; Even you she has preserv'd too, lengthen'd your lives. _Jul._ And what reward do you purpose? it must be a main one If love will do it we'll all, so love her, serve her. _Vir._ It must be my love. _Jul._ Ha! _Vir._ Mine, my only love, My everlasting love! _Pand._ How? _Vir._ Pray have patience. The recompence she ask'd, and I have render'd, Was to become her husband: then I vowed it, And since I have made it good. _Pand._ Thou durst not. _Vir._ Done Sir. _Jul._ Be what you please, his happiness yet stays with me, You have been mine; oh my unhappy fortune. _Pand._ Nay, break and dye. _Jul._ It cannot yet: I must live, Till I see this man, blest in his new love, And then---- _Pand._ What hast thou done? thou base one tell me, Thou barren thing of honesty, and honor; What hast thou wrought? Is not this she, look on her, Look on her, with the eyes of gratitude, And wipe thy false tears off; Is not this she, That three times on the Rack, to guard thy safety, When thou stood'st lost, and naked to the Tyrant; Thy aged Father here, that shames to know thee, Ingag'd i'th' jaws of danger; was not this she, That then gave up her body to the torture? That tender body, that the wind sings through; And three times, when her sinews, crack'd and tortur'd, The beauties of her body turn'd to ruines; Even then, within her patient heart, she lock'd thee; Then hid thee from the Tyrant, then preserv'd thee, And canst thou be that slave?