Luc. That holiness and truth ye make me wonder at?
Blast all the bounty heaven gives, that remembrance.
Col. O excellent woman.
Luc. Fling it from ye quickly,
If ye be thus resolv'd; I see a virtue
Appear in't like a sword, both edges flaming
That will consume ye, and your thoughts, to ashes,
Let them profess it that are pure, and noble,
Gentle, and just of thought, that build the cross,
Not those that break it, by —— if ye touch me,
Even in the act, I'll make that cross, and curse ye.
Mir. You shall not (fair) I did dissemble with ye,
And but to try your faith, I fashion'd all this:
Yet something you provokt me: this fair cross:
By me (if he but please to help, first gave it)
Shall nee'r be worn upon a heart corrupted;
Go to your rest, my modest, honest servant,
My fair, and virtuous maid, and sleep secure there,
For when you suffer, I forget this sign here.
Col. A man of men too: O most perfect Gentleman!
Luc. All sweet rest to you sir; I am half a Christian,
The other half, I'll pray for; then for you, Sir.
Mir. This is the fowlest play I'll shew, good night, sweet.
[Exeunt.