_Mount._ The justice I shall do, to right these villanies Shall make ye man again: I'll strike it sure, Sir. Come, look up bravely: put this puling passion Out of your mind; one knock for thee _Miranda_. And for the Boy, the grave _Gomera_ gave thee, When she accepted thee her Champion; And in thy absence, like a valiant Gentleman, I yet remember it: he is too young, Too Boyish, and too tender, to adventure: I'll give him one sound rap for that: I love thee, Thou art a brave young spark. _Mir._ Boy, did he call me? _Gomera_ call me Boy? _Mount._ It pleas'd his gravity, To think so of ye then: they that do service, And honest service, such as thou, and I doe, Are either knaves, or boys. _Mir._ Boy, by _Gomera_? How look'd he when he said it? for _Gomera_ Was ever wont to be a virtuous Gentleman, Humane, and sweet. _Mount._ Yes when he will, he can be; But let it go, I would not breed dissention; 'Tis an unfriendly office, and had it been To any of a higher strain than you, Sir, The well known, well approved, and lov'd _Miranda_, I had not thought on't: 'twas hap'ly his haste too, And zeal to her. _Mir._ A Traitor and a Boy too? Shame take me if I suffer't: puff: farewel love. _Mount._ Ye know my business, I must leave ye, Sir, My hour grows on apace. _Mir._ I must not leave you I dare not, nor I will not, till your goodness Have granted me one courtesie: ye say ye love me? _Mount._ I doe, and dearly: ask, and let that courtesie Nothing concern mine honor. _Mir._ You must do it, Or you will never see me more: _Mount._ What is it? It shall be great that puts ye off; pray speak it. _Mir._ Pray let me fight to day: good, dear _Mountferrat_, Let me, and bold _Gomera_-- _Mount._ Fie _Miranda_, Doe ye weigh my worth so little? _Mir._ On my knees, As ever thou hadst true touch of a sorrow Thy friend conceiv'd, as ever honor lov'd thee. _Mount._ Shall I turn recreant now? _Mir._ 'Tis not thy cause, Thou hast no reputation wounded in't, Thine's but a general zeal: 'death: I am tainted, The dearest twyn to life, my credit's murder'd, Bafl'd and boy'd. _Mount._ I am glad ye have swallow'd it, I must confess I pity ye; and 'tis a justice, A great one too, you should revenge these injuries: I know it, and I know ye fit and bold to do it, And man, as much as man may: but _Miranda_, Why do ye kneel? _Mir._ By ---- I'll grow to the ground here, And with my sword dig up my grave, and fall in't Unless thou grant me: dear _Mountferrat_, friend, Is any thing in my power, to my life, Sir? The honor shall be yours. _Mount._ I love ye dearly, Yet so much I should tender. _Mir._ I'll preserve all: By ---- I will: or all the sin fall with me, Pray let me.