Scaena Secunda.
Enter Miranda and Astorius.
Ast.
I knew ye lov'd her, virtuously ye lov'd her,
Which made me make that haste: I knew ye priz'd her
As all fair minds do goodness.
Mir.
Good Astorius,
I much confess I do much honor her,
And worthily I hope still.
Ast.
'Tis no doubt, Sir,
For on my life she is much wrong'd.
Mir.
Very likely:
And I as much tormented I was absent.
Ast.
You need not fear, Peter Gomera's Noble,
Of a try'd faith and valour.
Mir.
This I know too:
But whilst I was not there, and whilst she suffer'd;
Whilst Virtue suffer'd, friend, oh how it loads me!
Whilst innocence and sweetness sunk together,
How cold it sits here? if my arm had fought her,
My truth, though naked, stood against all treasons,
My sword here grasped, Love on the edge, and Honor,
And but a signal from her eye to seal it;
If then she had been lost; I brag too late,
And too much I decline the Noble Peter.
Yet some poor service I would do her sweetness,
Alas she needs it, my Astorius,
The gentle Lady needs it.
Ast.
Noble spirit.
Mir.
And what can: prethee bear with this weakne••••
Often I do not use these Womens weapons
But where true pity is. I am much troubl'd,
And something have to do, I cannot form yet.
Ast.
I'll take my leave, Sir, I shall but disturb ye.
Mir.
And please you for a while: and pray to fortune to smile upon this Lady.
Ast.
All my help, Sir. Exi••
Mir.
Gomera's old and stiff: and he may lose her,
The winter of his years and wounds upon him:
And yet he has done bravely hitherto;
Mountferrat's fury, in his heat of Summer,
The whistling of his Sword like angry storms,
Renting up life by th' roots, I have seen him scale
As if a Falcon had run up a train,
Clashing his warlike pinions, his steel'd Curasse,
And at his pitch inmew the Town below him.
I must doe something.
Enter Collonna.
Col.
Noble Sir, for Heaven sake
Take pity of a poor afflicted Christian
Redeem'd from one affliction to another.
Mir.
Boldly you ask that, we are bound to give it.
From what affliction, Sir?
Col.
From cold, and hunger: