Fri. How do ye approve it?
Clar. To its due desert,
It is a Heavenly Hymn, no ditty Father,
It passes through my ears unto my soul,
And works divinely on it; give me leave
A little to consider; shall I be
Outdone in all things? nor good of my self,
Nor by example? shall my loose hope still,
The viands of a fond affection, feed me
As I were a sensual beast? spiritual food
Refus'd by my sick palat? 'tis resolv'd.
How far off Father, doth this new made Hermit
Make his abode?
Fri. Some two dayes journey Son.
Clar. Having reveal'd my fair intentions to ye,
I hope your piety will not deny me
Your aids to further 'em?
Fri. That were against a good mans charity.
Clar. My first request is,
You would some time, for reasons I will shew you,
Defer delivery of Lidians Letters
To fair Olinda.
Fri. Well Sir.
Clar. For what follows,
You shall direct me; something I will do,
A new born zeal, and friendship prompts me to. [Ex.
Enter Dorilaus, Cleander, Chamberlain, Table, Tapers, and three stools.
Clea. We have supp'd well friend; let our beds be ready,
We must be stirring early.