_Sil._ My rest is up now Madam. _Dutch._ Then play it cunningly. _Sil._ Now, where's the Hag? where now are all her promises, She would be with me, strengthen me, inform me? My death will now be double death, ridiculous: She was wont still to be near, to feel my miseries, And with her Art, I see her no where now; What have I undertaken? now she fails me, No comfort now I find, how my soul staggers! Till this hour never fear nor doubt possest me, She cannot come, she will not come, she has fool'd me; Sure, she is the Devil, has drawn me on to ruine, And now to death bequeaths me in my danger. _Sy._ He stands distracted, and his colour changes. _Dutch._ I have given him that will make his blood forsake him; Shortly his life. _Sy._ His hands and contemplation Have motion still, the rest is earth already. _Duc._ Come, will ye speak or pray? your time grows out Sir; How every where he looks! he's at last cast. _Enter_ Belvidere, _and secretly gives him a paper, and_ Exit. _Sy._ His colour comes again fresh. _Duc._ 'Tis a flash, Sir, Before the flame burns out; can ye yet answer? _Sil._ Yes Madam, now I can. _Duc._ I fear you'll fail in't. _Sil._ And do not think my silence a presage, Or _Omen_ to my end, you shall not find it; I am bred a Soldier not an Orator: Madam, peruse this scrowl, let that speak for me, And as you are Royal, wrong not the construction. _Dutch._ By heaven you shall have fair play. _Sil._ I shall look for't. Question. _Tell me what is that only thing,_ _For which all women long;_ _Yet having what they most desire,_ _To have it do's them wrong._ Answer. _Tis not to be chaste, nor fair,_ _Such gifts malice may impair;_ _Richly trimm'd to walk or ride,_ _Or to wanton unespy'd;_ _To preserve an honest name,_ _And so to give it up to fame;_ _These are toys. In good or ill_ _They desire to have their Will;_ _Yet when they have it, they abuse it,_ _For they know not how to use it._ _Dutch._ You have answer'd right, and gain'd your life, I give it. _Sil._ Oh happy Hag! But my most gracious Madam, Your promise ty'd a nobler favour to me. _Duch._ 'Tis true, my Daughter too. _Sil._ I hope you will keep it. _Dutch._ 'Tis not in my power now, she is long since wander'd, Stol'n from Court, and me; and what I have not I cannot give: no man can tell me of her, Nor no search find her out: and if not _Silvio_, Which strongly I believe-- _Sil._ Mock me not Lady, For as I am a servant to her virtue, Since my first hour of exile, I ne'er saw her. _Lord._ That she is gone, 'tis too too true, and lamentable, Our last hope was in you.