_Arn._ Make me your slave, I give my freedom to ye,
For ever to be fetter'd to your service;
'Twas I offended, be not so unjust then,
To strike the innocent, this gentle maid
Never intended fear and doubt against you:
She is your Servant, pay not her observance
With cruel looks, her duteous faith with death.
_Hip._ Am I fair now? now am I worth your liking?
_Zen._ Not fair, not to be liked, thou glorious Devil,
Thou vernisht piece of lust, thou painted fury.
_Arn._ Speak gently sweet, speak gently.
_Zen._ I'le speak nobly.
'Tis not the saving of a life I aim at,
Mark me lascivious woman, mark me truly,
And then consider, how I weigh thy anger.
Life is no longer mine, nor dear unto me,
Than usefull to his honour I preserve it.
If thou hadst studied all the courtesies
Humanity and noble blood are linkt to,
Thou couldst not have propounded such a benefit,
Nor heapt upon me such unlookt for honour
As dying for his sake, to be his Martyr,
'Tis such a grace.
_Hip._ You shall not want that favour,
Let your bones work miracles.
_Arn._ Dear Lady
By those fair eyes--
_Hip._ There is but this way left ye
To save her life.
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