_Mart._ Nature nere promised thee a thing so noble. Take back your love, your vow, I give it freely; I poorly scorn it; graze now where you please: That that the dulness of thy soul neglected, Kings sue for now. And mark me, _Virolet_, Thou image of a man, observe my words well. At such a bloody rate I'll sell this beauty, This handsomness thou scornst and flingst away, Thy proud ungrateful life shall shake at: take your house, The petty things you left me give another; And last, take home your trinket: fare you well, Sir. _Ron._ You have spoke like your self; Y'are a brave Lady. [_Exeunt_ Ronvere _and_ Martia. _Jul._ Why do you smile, Sir? _Vir._ O my _Juliana_, The happiness this womans scorn has given me, Makes me a man again; proclaims it self, In such a general joy, through all my miseries, That now methinks-- _Jul._ Look to your self dear Sir, And trifle not with danger that attends you; Be joyful when y'are free. _Vir._ Did you not hear her? She gave me back my vow, my love, my freedom; I am free, free as air; and though to morrow Her bloody will meet with my life, and sink it, And in her execution tear me piecemeal: Yet have I time once more to meet my wishes, Once more to embrace my best, my noblest, truest; And time that's warranted. _Jul._ Good Sir, forbear it: Though I confess, equal with your desires My wishes rise, as covetous of your love, And to as warm alarums spur my will to: Yet pardon me, the Seal o'th' Church dividing us, And hanging like a threatning flame between us, We must not meet, I dare not. _Vir._ That poor disjoynting That only strong necessity thrust on you, Not crime, nor studied cause of mine: how sweetly, And nobly I will bind again and cherish; How I will recompence one dear imbrace now, One free affection! how I burn to meet it! Look now upon me.