_Tib._ I would now cut your throat you dog, But that I wo'not doe you such a courtesie; To take you from the benefit of starving, Oh! what a comfort will your worship have some three days hence! Ye things beneath pitty, Famine shall be your harbinger; You must not look for Down-beds here, Nor Hangings; though I could wish ye strong ones; Yet there be many lightsome cool Star-chambers, Open to every sweet air, I'll assure ye, Ready provided for ye, and so I'll leave ye; Your first course is serv'd, expect the second. [_Exit._ _Fran._ A vengeance on these Jewels. _Lam._ Oh! this cursed Gold. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Albert, Aminta. _Alb._ Alas dear soul ye faint. _Amint._ You speak the language Which I should use to you, heaven knows, my weakness Is not for what I suffer in my self, But to imagine what you endure, and to what fate Your cruel Stars reserve ye. _Alb._ Do not add to my afflictions By your tender pitties; sure we have chang'd Sexes; You bear calamity with a fortitude Would become a man; I like a weak girl, suffer. _Amint._ Oh, but your wounds, How fearfully they gape! and every one To me is a Sepulchre: if I lov'd truly, (Wise men affirm, that true love can [doe] wonders,) These bath'd in my warm tears, would soon be cur'd, And leave no orifice behind; pray give me leave To play the Surgeon, and bind 'em up; The raw air rankles 'em. _Alb._ Sweet, we want means. _Amint._ Love can supply all wants. _Alb._ What have ye done Sweet? Oh sacriledge to beauty: there's no hair Of these pure locks, by which the greatest King Would not be gladly bound, and love his Fetters. _Amint._ Oh _Albert_, I offer this sacrifice of service To the Altar of your staid temperance, and still adore it, When with a violent hand you made me yours, I curs'd the doer: but now I consider, How long I was in your power: and with what honor; You entertain'd me, it being seldom seen, That youth, and heat of bloud, could e'r prescribe Laws to it self; your goodness is the _Lethe_, In which I drown your injuries, and now live Truly to serve ye: how do you Sir? Receive you the least ease from my service? If you do, I am largely recompenc'd. _Alb._ You good Angels, That are ingag'd, when mans ability fails, To reward goodness: look upon this Lady Though hunger gripes my croaking entrails, Yet when I kiss these Rubies, methinks I'm at a Banquet, a refreshing Banquet; Speak my bless'd one, art not hungry? _Amint._ Indeed I could eat, to bear you company.