_Hen_. Pish! some hungry Landlords would have rent before The Quarter day,-I doe no more: by faire meanes Yield up your fort; the Tenement is mine owne And I must dwell in't. _Ele_.

My feares pointed wrong: You are no enemy, no wolfe; it was A villaine I disturbed: oh, make me not Find in your presence that destruction My thoughts were so affrighted with. _Hen_. We shall have such adoe now! _Ele_.

Your fathers house will prove no castle to mee If you at home doe wound mee. 'Twas an Angell Spoke in you lately not my Cheeke should bee Made pale with feare. Lay not a lasting blush On my white name:-No haire should perish here Was vowed even now:-Oh let not a blacke deed, And by my sworne preserver, be my death My ever living death.