Thou sable cloth, sad cover of my joys,
I lift thee up, and thus I meet with death.
Jasp. And thus you meet the living.
Luce. Save me Heaven.
Jasp. Nay, do not flye me fair, I am no spirit,
Look better on me, do you know me yet?
Luce. O thou dear shadow of my friend.
Jasp. Dear substance,
I swear I am no shadow feel my hand,
It is the same it was, I am your Jasper,
Your Jasper that's yet living, and yet loving,
Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proof
I put in practice of your constancy:
For sooner should my sword have drunk my blood,
And set my soul at liberty, than drawn
The least drop from that body, for which boldness
Doom me to any thing: if death, I take it
And willingly.
Luce. This death I'll give you for it,
So, now I am satisfied: you are no spirit,
But my own truest, truest, truest friend,
Why do you come thus to me?
Jasp. First, to see you,
Then to convey you hence.
Luce. It cannot be,
For I am lockt up here, and watcht at all hours,
That 'tis impossible for me to scape.
Jasp. Nothing more possible, within this Coffin
Do you convey your self, let me alone,
I have the wits of twenty men about me,
Only I crave the shelter of your Closet
A little, and then fear me not; creep in
That they may presently convey you hence:
Fear nothing dearest love, I'll be your second,
Lye close, so, all goes well yet; boy.