Wife. And yet my glass, till now, ne’er told me so. Who gave you this intelligence? Young Geraldine. Only He That, pitying such an innocency as mine Should by two such delinquents be betrayed,-- He brought me to that place by miracle, And made me an ear-witness of all this. Wife. I am undone! Young Geraldine. But think what thou hast lost To forfeit me! I, notwithstanding these, (So fixèd was my love and unalterable,) I kept this from thy husband, nay, all ears, With thy transgressions smothering mine own wrongs, In hope of thy repentance. Wife. Which begins Thus low upon my knees-- Young Geraldine. Tush! bow to Heaven, Which thou hast most offended; I, alas! Save in such scarce unheard-of treachery, Most sinful, like thyself. Wherein, oh, wherein Hath my unspotted and unbounded love Deserved the least of these? Sworn to be made a stale For term of life, and all this for my goodness! Die, and die soon; acquit me of my oath, But prithee die repentant. Farewell ever: ’Tis thou, and only thou, hast banished me Both from my friends and country. Wife. Oh, I am lost! [_Sinks down_. _Re-enter_ Delavil, _meeting_ Young Geraldine _going out_. Delavil. Why, how now, what’s the business? Young Geraldine. Go, take her up, whom thou hast oft thrown down. Villain! [_Exit_. Delavil. That was no language from a friend, It had too harsh an accent. But how’s this? My mistress thus low cast upon the earth, Grovelling and breathless! Mistress, lady, sweet-- Wife. Oh, tell me if thy name be Geraldine: Thy very looks will kill me! Delavil. View me well; I am no such man; see, I am Delavil. Wife. Thou’rt then a devil, that presents before me My horrid sins, persuades me to despair, When he, like a good angel sent from Heaven, Besought me of repentance. Swell, sick heart, Even till thou burst the ribs that bound thee in! So, there’s one string cracked. Flow, and flow high, Even till thy blood distil out of mine eyes, To witness my great sorrow. Delavil. Faint again! Some help within there! No attendant near? Thus to expire! In this I am more wretched Than all the sweet fruition of her love Before could make me happy. _Re-enter_ Wincott, Old Geraldine, Young Geraldine, _the two_ Lionels, Ricott, Owner, Prudentilla, _and_ Reignald; _also enter_ Clown. Wincott. What was he Clamoured so loud, to mingle with our mirth This terror and affright? Delavil. See, sir, your wife In these my arms expiring. Wincott. How! Prudentilla. My sister! Wincott. Support her, and by all means possible Provide for her dear safety. Old Geraldine. See, she recovers. Wincott. Woman, look up. Wife. Oh, sir, your pardon! Convey me to my chamber; I am sick, Sick even to death. Away, thou sycophant, Out of my sight! I have, besides thyself, Too many sins about me. Clown. My sweet mistress!