_Sold._ And he, they mean to kill, is brave himself, and of a nation I much love. _Per._ Come on then. [_Both draw. To_ HAR.] Villain, thou diest, thy conscience tells thee why; I need not urge the crime. [_They assault him._ _Har. Jun._ Murder! I shall be basely murdered; help! _Enter_ TOWERSON. _Tow._ Hold, villains! what unmanly odds is this? Courage, whoe'er thou art; I'll succour thee. [TOWERSON _fights with_ PEREZ, _and_ HARMAN _with the Lieutenant, and drive them off the stage._ _Har. Jun._ Though, brave unknown, night takes thee from my knowledge, and I want time to thank thee now, take this, and wear it for my sake; [_Gives him a ring._] Hereafter I'll acknowledge it more largely. [_Exit._ _Tow._ That voice I've heard; but cannot call to mind, except it be young Harman's. Yet, who should put his life in danger thus? This ring I would not take as salary, but as a gage of his free heart who left it; and, when I know him, I'll restore the pledge. Sure 'twas not far from hence I made the appointment: I know not what this Dutchman's business is, yet, I believe, 'twas somewhat from my rival. It shall go hard, but I will find him out, and then rejoin the company. [_Exit._ _Re-enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL. _Fisc._ The accident was wondrous strange: Did you neither know your assassinates, nor your deliverer? _Har. Jun._ 'Twas all a hurry; yet, upon better recollecting of myself, the man, who freed me, must be Towerson. _Fisc._ Hark, I hear the company walking this way; will you withdraw? _Har. Jun._ Withdraw, and Isabinda coming! _Fisc._ The wood is full of murderers; every tree, methinks, hides one behind it. _Har. Jun._ You have two qualities, my friend, that sort but ill together; as mischievous as hell could wish you, but fearful in the execution. _Fisc._ There is a thing within me, called a conscience which is not quite o'ercome; now and then it rebels a little, especially when I am alone, or in the dark. _Har. Jun._ The moon begins to rise, and glitters through the trees. _Isab._ [_Within._] Pray let us walk this way; that farther lawn, between the groves, is the most green and pleasant of any in this isle. _Har. Jun._ I hear my siren's voice, I cannot stir from hence.--Dear friend, if thou wilt e'er oblige me, divert the company a little, and give me opportunity a while to talk alone with her. _Fisc._ You'll get nothing of her, except it be by force. _Har. Jun._ You know not with what eloquence love may inspire my tongue: The guiltiest wretch, when ready for his sentence, has something still to say. _Fisc._ Well, they come; I'll put you in a way, and wish you good success; but do you hear? remember you are a man, and she a woman; a little force, it may be, would do well.