Pand. Go persecute the good, and hunt ye hell-hounds,
Ye Leeches of the time, suck till ye burst slaves;
How does my girl?
Jul. Weak yet, but full of comfort.
Pand. Sit down, and take some rest.
Jul. My heart's whole Father;
That joys, and leaps, to hear my Virolet,
My Dear, my life, has conquer'd his afflictions.
Pand. Those rude hands, and that bloody will that did this,
That durst upon thy tender body print
These Characters of cruelty; hear me heaven.
Jul. O Sir be sparing.
Pand. I'll speak it, tho I burst;
And tho the ayr had ears, and serv'd the Tyrant,
Out it should go: O he[a]re me thou great Justice;
The miseries that wait upon their mischiefs,
Let them be numberless, and no eye pitty
Them when their souls are loaden, and in labour,
And wounded through, and through, with guilt and horror;
As mine is now with grief; let men laugh at 'em
Then, when their monstrous sins, like earth-quakes, shake 'em,
And those eyes, that forgot heaven would look upward,
The bloody 'larms, of the conscience beating,
Let mercy flye, and day strook into darkness,
Leave their blind souls, to hunt out their own horrors.
Jul. Enough, enough, we must forget dear Father;
For then we are glorious formes of heaven; and live,
When we can suffer, and as soon forgive.
But where's my Lord? methinks I have seen this house,
And have been in't before.
Pand. Thine own house jewel.
Jul. Mine, without him? or his, without my company?
I think it cannot be; it was not wont Father.