_Boy._ Indeed I have no thought so uncharitable, Nor am I sent to grieve you, let me suffer More punishment than ever boy deserv'd, If you do find me false; I serve a Mistriss Would rather dye than play with your misfortunes; Then good Sir hear me out. _Ha._ Who is your Mistriss? _Boy._ Before I name her, give me some encouragement, That you receive her message: she is one That is full acquainted with your misery, And can bring such a portion of her sorrow In every circumstance so like your own, You'll love and pity her, and wish your griefs Might marry one anothers. _Ha._ Thou art wild. Canst thou bring comfort from so sad a creature? Her miserable story can at best, But swell my Volume, large enough already. _Boy._ She was late belov'd, as you were, promis'd faith And marriage; and was worthy of a better Than he, that stole _Maria_'s heart. _Ha._ How's that? _Boy._ Just as _Maria_ dealt with your affection, Did he that married her deal with my Mistriss, When careless both of Honor and Religion; They cruelly gave away their hearts to strangers. _Ha._ Part of this truth I know, but prethee boy Proceed to that thou cam'st for; thou didst Promise Something, thy language cannot hitherto Encourage me to hope for. _Boy._ That I come to: My Mistriss thus unkindly dealt withal, You may imagine, wanted no affliction; And had e'r this, wept her self dry as Marble, Had not your fortune come to her relief, And twinn to her own sorrow brought her comfort. _Ha._ Could the condition of my fate so equal, Lessen her sufferings? _Boy._ I know not how Companions in grief sometimes diminish And make the pressure easie by degrees: She threw her troubles off, remembring yours, And from her pity of your wrongs, there grew Affection to your person thus increas'd, And with it, confidence, that those whom Nature Had made so even in their weight of sorrow, Could not but love as equally one another, Were things but well prepar'd, this gave her boldness To employ me thus far. _Ha._ A strange message, boy. _Boy._ If you incline to meet my Mistriss love, It may beget your comforts; besides that, 'Tis some revenge, that you above their scorn And pride can laugh at them, whose perjury Hath made you happy, and undone themselves. _Ha._ Have you done boy? _Boy._ Only this little more; When you but see, and know my Mistriss well, You will forgive my tediousness, she's fair, Fair as _Maria_ was. _Ha._ I'll hear no more, Go foolish boy, a[n]d tell thy fonder Mistriss She has no second Faith to give away; And mine was given to _Maria_, though her death Allow me freedom, see the Picture of her. _Enter_ Maria, Nurse.