_Enter_ Colonna, _and_ Norand. The living heat steals into every member; Come help the Coffin out softly, and sodainly; Where is the Clerk? _Col._ Drunk above he is sure Sir. _Mir._ Sirrah, you must be secret. _Col._ As your soul Sir. _Mir._ Softly good friend, take her into your armes. _Nor._ Put in the crust again. _Mir._ And bring her out there when I am a horseback My man, and I will tenderly conduct her Unto the Fort; stay you, and watch what issue, And what inquirie's for the body. _Nor._ Well Sir. _Mir._ And when ye have done, come back to me. _Nor._ I will. _Mir._ Softly, oh softly. _Nor._ She grows warmer still Sir. _Col._ What shall I do with the Key? _Mir._ Thou canst not stir now, Leave it ith'door, go get the horses ready. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Rocca, Mountferrat, Abdella, _with a dark Lanthorn_. _Roc._ The door's already open, the Key in it. _Mount._ What were those past by? _Roc._ Some scout of Soldiers, I think. _Mount._ It may well be so, for I saw their horses: They saw not us I hope. _Abd._ No, no, we were close, Beside they were far off. _Mount._ What time of night is't? _Abd._ Much about twelve I think. _Roc._ Let me go in first For by the leaving open of the door here There may be some body in the Church: give me the Lanthorne. _Abd._ You'll love me now I hope. _Mount._ Make that good to me Your promise is engaged for. _Abd._ Why she is there Ready prepar'd, and much about this time Life will look up again. _Roc._ Come in all's sure, Not a foot stirring, nor a tongue. _Mount._ Heaven bless me, I never enter'd with such unholy thoughts This place before. _Abd._ Ye are a fearful fool, If men have appetites allow'd 'em, And warm desires, are there not ends too for 'em? _Mount._ Whether shall we carry her? _Roc._ Why, to the bark, Sir, I have provided one already waits us; The wind stands wondrous fair too for our passage. _A[b]d._ And there when ye have enjoy'd her, for ye have that liberty Let me alone to send her to feed fishes: I'll no more sighs for her. _Mount._ Where is the monument? Thou art sure she will awake about this time? _Abd._ Most sure, if she be not knockt oth'head: give me the Lanthorn, Here 'tis, how is this, the stone off? _Roc._ I, and nothing Within the monument, that's worse; no body I am sure of that, nor sign of any here, But an empty Coffin. _Mount._ No Lady? _Roc._ No, nor Lord Sir, This Pye has been cut up before. _Abd._ Either the Devil Must do these tricks--