Vir. What is your will? for nothing you can ask,
So full of goodness are your words and meanings,
Must be denied: speak boldly.
Jul. I thank you sir. I come not
To beg, or flatter, only to be believ'd,
That I desire: for I shall tell a story,
So far from seeming truth, yet a most true one;
So horrible in nature, and so horrid;
So beyond wickedness, that when you hear it,
It must appear the practice of another,
The cast and malice of some one you have wrong'd much,
And me, you may imagine me accuse too,
Unless you call to mind my daily sufferings;
The infinite obedience I have born you,
That hates all name and nature of revenge.
My love, that nothing but my death can sever,
Rather than hers I speak of.
Vir. Juliana,
To make a doubt of what you shall deliver,
After my full experience of your virtues,
Were to distrust a providence; to think you can lie,
Or being wrong'd, seek after foul repairings,
To forge a Creed against my faith.
Jul. I must do so, for it concerns your life Sir;
And if that word may stir you, hear and prosper:
I should be dumb else, were not you at stake here.
Vir. What new friend have I found, that dares deliver
This loaden trunk from his afflictions?
What pittying hand, of all that feels my miseries,
Brings such a benefit?
Jul. Be wise and manly,
And with your honor fall, when Heaven shall call you,
Not by a hellish mischief.
Vir. Speak my blest one,
How weak and poor I am, now she is from me!
Jul. Your wife.
Viro. How's that?
Jul. Your wife.