Bel. Let not his blood—
Sil. Let not her wilfulness—
For then you act a Scene Hell will rejoyce at.
Bel. He is clear.
Sil. She is as white in this as Infants.
Cla. The god of Love protect your cause, and help ye,
Two nobler pieces of affection
These eyes ne'er look'd on, if such goodness perish,
Let never true hearts meet again, but break. [Exit.
1 Lord. A strange exemple of strong love, a rare one.
2 Lord. Madam, we know not what to say, to think on.
Dutch. I must confess it strikes me tender too,
Searches my Mothers heart: you found 'em there?
Bar. Yes certain Madam.
Dutch. And so linked together?