_Enter_ Antonio. [_Ant._] Your legs have sav'd your lives, who ere you are, Friend. _Martin?_ where art thou? not hurt I hope: Sure I was farthest in the pursuit of 'em: My pleasures are forgotten through my fears: The lights extinct, it was discreetly done: They could not but have notice of the broil, And fearing that might call up company, Have carefully prevented, and closed up: I do commend the heed; oh, but my friend, I fear his hurt: friend? friend? it cannot be So mortal, that I should lose thee quite, friend? A groan, any thing that may discover thee: Thou art not sunk so far, but I might hear thee: I'll lay mine ear as low as thou canst fall: Friend, Don _Martin_, I must answer for thee, 'Twas in my cause thou fe[ll]'st, if thou be'st down, Such dangers stand betwixt us and our joyes, That should we forethink ere we undertake, Wee'ld sit at home, and save. What a night's here! Purpos'd for so much joy, and now dispos'd To so much wretchedness! I shall not rest in't: If I had all my pleasures there within, I should not entertain 'em with a smile. Good night to you: Mine will be black and sad, A friend cannot, a woman may be bad. [_Exit._ _Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Ismenia _and_ Aminta. _Ism._ O thou false. _Am._ Do your daringst, he's mine own, Soul and body mine, church and chamber mine, Totally mine. _Ism._ Dar'st thou face thy falshood? _Am._ Shall I not give a welcome to my wishes Come home so sweetly: farewell your company Till you be calmer woman. [_Exit._ _Ism._ Oh what a heap Of misery has one night brought with it. _Enter_ Antonio. _Ant._ Where is he? do you turn your shame from me? You'r a blind Adulteress, you know you are. _Ism._ How's that _Antonio_? _Ant._ Till I have vengeance, Your sin's not pardonable: I'll have him, If hell hide him not: y'have had your last of him. [_Exit._ _Ism._ What did he speak? I understood him not, He call'd me a foul name, it was not mine, He took me for another sure. _Enter Bellides._ _Bell._ Ha? are you there? Where's your sweet heart? I have found you Traytor To my house: wilt league with mine enemy? You'll shed his blood, you'll say: hah? will you so? And fight with your heels upwards? No Minion, I have a husband for you, since y'are so rank, And such a husband as thou shalt like him, Whether thou wilt or no: _Antonio_? _Ism._ It thunders with the storm now.