Jul. Sleep you sweet glasses,
An everlasting slumber crown those Chrystals,
All my delight adue, farewell, Dear Virolet,
Dear, Dear, most Dear; O I can weep no more,
My body now is fire, and all consuming,
Here will I sit, forget the world and all things,
And only wait what heaven shall turn me to,
For now methinks I should not live. [She sits down.
Enter Pandulfo.
P[a]nd. O my sweet daughter,
The work is finisht now, I promis'd thee:
Here are thy virtues shewed, here register'd,
And here shall live for ever.
Jul. Blot it, burn it,
I have no virtue, hateful I am as hell is.
Pand. Is not this Virolet?
Jul. Ask no more questions,
Mistaking him I kill'd him.
Pand. O my Son,
Nature turns to my heart again, my dear Son,
Son of my age, would'st thou go out so quickly?
So poorly take thy leave, and never see me?
Was this a kind stroak daughter? could you love him?
Honour his Father, and so deadly strike him?
O wither'd timeless youth, are all thy promises,
Thy goodly growth of Honors come to this?
Do I halt still i'th' world, and trouble nature,
When her main pieces founder, and fail dayly?
Enter Boy, and three Servants.
Boy. He does weep certain: what bodie's that lies by him?
How do you do Sir?
Pand. O look there Lucio,
Thy Master, thy best Master.