_Viol._ Is it from _G[e]rrard_? gentle _Ferdinand_, How glad am I to see you thus well restor'd! In troth he never wrong'd you in his life, Nor I, but always held fair thoughts of you, Knew not my Fathers meaning, till of late; Could never have known it soon enough: for Sir, _Gerrard_'s, and my affection began In infancy: My Uncle brought him oft In long coats hither; you were such another; The little boy would kiss me, being a child, And say, he lov'd me; give me all his toys, Bracelets, Rings, Sweet-meats, all his Rosie-smiles: I then would stand, and stare upon his eyes, Play with his locks, and swear I lov'd him too; For sure, methought, he was a little Love, He woo'd so prettily in innocence, That then he warm'd my fancy; for I felt A glimmering beam of Love kindle my bloud, Both which, time since hath made a flame and floud. _Fer._ Oh gentle innocent! methinks it talks Like a child still, whose white simplicity Never arriv'd at sin. Forgive me, Lady, I have destroy'd _Gerrard_, and thee; rebell'd Against Heavens Ordinance; dis-pair'd two Doves, Made 'em sit mourning; slaughter'd Love, and cleft The heart of all integrity. This breast Was trusted with the secret of your vow By _Gerrard_, and reveal'd it to your Father. _Viol._ Hah! _Ferd._ Read, and curse me. _Viol._ Neither: I will never Nor Write, nor Read again. _Ferd._ My pennance be it. Reads. _Your Labyrinth is found, your Lust proclaim'd._ _Viol._ Lust? Humh: My Mother sure felt none, when I was got. _Fer. I and the Law implacably offend[e]d._ Gerrard's _imprison'd, and to dye_. _Viol._ Oh Heaven! _Ferd. And you to suffe[r] with reproach and scoffs_ _A publick execution; I have sent you_ _An Antidote 'gainst shame, poison; by him_ _You have most wrong'd: give him your penitent tears._ _Viol._ Humh: 'tis not truth. _Ferd. Drink, and farewel for ever:_ _And though thy whoredom blemish thy whol[e] line,_ _Prevent the Hangmans stroke, and die like mine._ _Viol._ Oh woe is me for _Gerrard_: I have brought Confusion on the noblest Gentleman That ever truly lov'd. But we shall meet Where our condemners shall not, and enjoy A more refin'd affection than here; No Law, nor Father hinders marriage there 'Twixt souls Divinely affi'd, as (sure) ours were: There we will multiply, and generate joyes Like fruitful Parents. Luckless _Ferdinand_, Where's the good old Gentlewoman, my Husbands Aunt? _Ferd._ Thrust from you Uncle [t]o all poverty. _Viol._ Alas the pi[t]y: reach me, Sir, the cup; I'll say my prayers, and take my Fathers Physick. _Ferd._ Oh villain that I was, I had forgot To spill the rest, and am unable now To stir to hinder her. _Viol._ What ail you, Sir?