Playes written by the thrice noble, illustrious and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.

Scene 44.

Enter Madam Soeur alone, as ravished.

Soeur.

Who will call unto the Gods for aid, since they assist not Innocency, nor give protection to a Virtuous Life? Is Piery of no use? or is Hea∣ven so obdurate, no holy prayers can enter Heaven-gates, or penitential tears can move the Gods to pity? But O my sorrows are too big for words, and all actions too little for his punishment.

Enter Monsieur Frere all unbutton'd, and his sword drawn in his hand.

Frere.

Sister, I must die, wherefore you must not live: for I cannot be without your company, although in death, and in the silent grave, where no Love's made, nor Passion known.

Soeur.

It's welcom News: for if death comes not by your hand, my hand shall give a passage unto life.

Frere.

There is none so sit to act that part as I, who am so full of sin, want nothing now but murther to make up measure.

He wounds her to death.

Soeur.

Death, thou are my griefs Reprieve, and wilt unlade my Soul from heavy thoughts that miserable life throws on, and sinks me to the Earth. Brother farewel, may all your crimes be buried in my grave, and may my shame and yours be never known.

Oh, Oh, dies.

Frere.

Now she is dead, my Mind is at rest, since I know none can enjoy her after me; but I will follow thee: I come, my Mistris, Wife, and Si∣ster all in one.

Monsieur Frere falls upon the point of his sword, then falls clos'd by Madam Soeur, and lays his Arm over her, then speaks.

You Gods of Love, if any Gods there be, O hear my prayer! And as we came both from one Womb, so joyn our Souls in the Elizium, out Bodies in one Tomb.

Oh, oh, oh, dies.