_Vir._ Were she here, And with her all severe eyes to behold us, We might do this; I might name _Juliana_, And to the reverence of that name, bow thus: I might sigh _Juliana_ she was mine once; But I too weak a guard for that great treasure---- And whilst she has a name, believe me Lady, This broken heart shall never want a sorrow. _Jul._ Forget her sir, your honor now commands you You are anothers, keep those griefs for her, She richly can reward 'em. I would have spoken with you. _Vir._ What is your will? for nothing you can ask, So full of goodness are your words and meanings, Must be denied: speak boldly. _Jul._ I thank you sir. I come not To beg, or flatter, only to be believ'd, That I desire: for I shall tell a story, So far from seeming truth, yet a most true one; So horrible in nature, and so horrid; So beyond wickedness, that when you hear it, It must appear the practice of another, The cast and malice of some one you have wrong'd much, And me, you may imagine me accuse too, Unless you call to mind my daily sufferings; The infinite obedience I have born you, That hates all name and nature of revenge. My love, that nothing but my death can sever, Rather than hers I speak of. _Vir. Juliana_, To make a doubt of what you shall deliver, After my full experience of your virtues, Were to distrust a providence; to think you can lie, Or being wrong'd, seek after foul repairings, To forge a Creed against my faith. _Jul._ I must do so, for it concerns your life Sir; And if that word may stir you, hear and prosper: I should be dumb else, were not you at stake here. _Vir._ What new friend have I found, that dares deliver This loaden trunk from his afflictions? What pittying hand, of all that feels my miseries, Brings such a benefit? _Jul._ Be wise and manly, And with your honor fall, when Heaven shall call you, Not by a hellish mischief. _Vir._ Speak my blest one, How weak and poor I am, now she is from me! _Jul._ Your wife. _Viro._ How's that? _Jul._ Your wife. _Vir._ Be tender of her, I shall believe else---- _Jul._ I must be true; your ear, sir; For 'tis so horrible, if the ayr catch it, Into a thousand plagues, a thousand monsters, It will disperse it self, and fright resistance. [_Whispers._ _Viro._ She seek my life with you? make you her agent? Another love? O speak but truth. _Jul._ Be patient, Dear as I love you, else I leave you wretched.