What shall we doe? |Enter Nicanor and a Guard.|
Le. Do not resist, Lisandro, stand: the worst,
We can but dye.
Oh, this Loretta, false, inhumane wretch!
Nic. Lay hands vpon them both. Is’t so indeed?
Is this the zeale of your Confession?
I feare, death giues the absolution.
Le. Hence, doting Foole, more welcome far is death,
Then to bee linkt to Ages Leprosie. |Exeunt.|
Nic. Beare vm away into their seuerall Wards.