_Mont._ Am I yet safe? or is my flight a dream? My wounds and hunger tell me that I wake: Whither have my fears born me? no matter where, Who hath no place to goe to, cannot err: What shall I do? cunning calamity! That others gross wits uses to refine, When I most need it duls the edg of mine. _L. Orl._ Is not this _Montagues_ voyce? _Vir._ My Masters? fie. _Mont._ What sound was that, 'pish, Fear makes the wretch think every leaf oth' Jury: What course to live, 'beg? better men have done it, But in another kind: steal? _Alexander_ Though stil'd a Conqueror, was a proud thief, Though he rob'd with an Army; fie how idle These meditations are: though thou art worse Than sorrows tongue can speak thee, thou art still, Or shouldst be, honest _Montague_. _L. Orl._ 'Tis too true. _Vir._ 'Tis he: what villains hands did this? oh that my flesh Were Balm; in faith Sir, I would pluck it off As readily as this; pray you accept My will to do you service: I have heard The Mouse once sav'd the Lyon in his need, As the poor Scarab spild the Eagles seed. _L. Orl._ How do you? _Mont._ As a forsaken man. _L. Orl._ Do not say so, take comfort, For your misfortunes have been kind in this, To cast you on a hospitable shoar, Where dwels a Lady-- _Vir._ She to whom, good Master, You prefer'd me. _L. Orl._ In whose house, whatsoere Your dangers are, I'll undertake your safety. _Mont._ I fear that I am pursued, and doubt that I, In my defence have kild an Officer. _Vir._ Is that all? there's no law under the Sun But will I hope confess, one drop of blood Shed from this arme is recompence enough Though you had cut the throats of all the Catchpoles In _France_, nay in the world. _Mont._ I would be loth To be a burthen, or feed like a drone On the industrious labor of a Bee, And baser far I hold it to owe for The bread I eat, what's not in me to pay; Then since my full fortunes are declin'd, To their low ebb I'll fashion my high mind. It was no shame to _Hecuba_, to serve When Troy was fir'd: if't be in your power To be a means to make her entertainment, And far from that I was; but to supply My want with habit fit for him that serves, I shall owe much to you. _L. Orl._ Leave that care to me. _Vir._ Good Sir, lean on my shoulder; help good Madam: oh that I were a horse for half an hour, that I might carry you home on my back: I hope you w[i]ll love me still? _Mont._ Thou dost deserve it boy, that I should live To be thus troublesome. _L. Orl._ Good Sir, 'tis none. _Vir._ Trouble? most willingly I would be chang'd Like _Apuleius_, weare his Asses ears, Provided I might still this burthen bear. _L. Orl._ 'Tis a kind boy. _Mont._ I find true proof of it. [_Exeunt._