_Ori._ Oh, much too worthy; How much you undervalue your own price, To give your unbought self, for a poor woman, That has been once sold, us'd, and lost her show? I am a garment worn, a vessel crack'd, A _Zone_ unti'd, a Lilly trode upon, A fragrant Flower cropt by another[s] hand, My colour sully'd, and my odo[r] chang'd, If when I was new blossom'd, I did fear My self unworthy of _Miranda_'s spring: Thus over-blown, and seeded, I am rather Fit to adorn his Chimney, than his bed. _Mir._ Rise miracle: save _Malta_, with thy virtue, If words could make me proud, how has she spoke, Yet I will try her to the very block: Hard-hearted, and uncivil _Oriana_, Ingrateful payer of my Industries, That with a soft painted hypocrisie Cozen'st, and jeer'st my perturbation, Expect a witty, and a fell revenge: My comfort is, all men will think thee false, Beside thy Husband having been thus long (On this occasion) in my Fort, and power. _Enter_ Nor. Collonna, & Lucinda, _with a Child_. I'll hear no more words: Captain, let's away With all care see to her: and you _Lucinda_ Attend her diligently: she is a wonder. _Nor._ Have you found she was well deliver'd: What, had she a good Midwife, is all well? _Mir._ You are merry _Norandine_. _Luc._ Why weep you, Lady? _Ori._ Take the poor Babe along. _Col._ Madam, 'tis here. _Ori._ Dissembling death, why didst thou let me live To see this change, my greatest cause to grieve? [_Exeunt._ _Scæna Secunda._ _Enter_ Astorius, Castriot, Valetta, Gomera, Synnet, _Knights_, _two Bishops_, Mountferrat _guarded by Corporal and Soldiers_, Abdella, _a Gentleman with a Cloak, sword, and Spurrs_: Gomera. _Val._ A tender Husband hast thou shew'd thy self My dearest brother, and thy memory After my life in brazen Characters; Shall monumentally be register'd To ages consequent, till times running hand, Beats back the world, to undistinguished _Chaos_, And on the top of that thy name shall stand Fresh, and without decay. _Gom._ Oh honor'd Sir! If hope of this, or any bliss to come, Could lift my load of grief off from my soul, Or expiate the trespass 'gainst my wife, That in one hours suspition I begat, I might be won to be a man again, And fare like other Husbands, sleep and eat, Laugh, and forget my pleasing penitence; But till old nature can make such a wife Again, I vow ne'r to resume the order And habits that to men are necessary, All breath I'll spend in sighs, all sound in groans, And know no company but my wasting moans. _Ast._ This will be wilful murder on your self, Nor like a Christian do you bear the chance Which th' inscrutable Will of Heaven admits.