Duch. 'Tis true, my Daughter too.
Sil. I hope you will keep it.
Dutch. 'Tis not in my power now, she is long since wander'd,
Stol'n from Court, and me; and what I have not
I cannot give: no man can tell me of her,
Nor no search find her out: and if not Silvio,
Which strongly I believe—
Sil. Mock me not Lady,
For as I am a servant to her virtue,
Since my first hour of exile, I ne'er saw her.
Lord. That she is gone, 'tis too too true, and lamentable,
Our last hope was in you.
Sil. What do I hear then,
And wherefore have I life bestow'd and honor?
To what end do I walk? for men to wonder at,
And fight, and fool? pray ye take your honors from me,
(My sorrows are not fit companions for 'em)
And when ye please my life: Art thou gone Mistriss,
And wander'st heaven knows where? this vow I make thee,
That till I find thee out, and see those fair eyes;
Those eyes that shed their lights, and life into me,
Never to know a friend, to seek a kindred,
To rest where pleasure dwels, and painted glory,
But through the world; the wide world, thus to wander,
The wretched world alone, no comfort with me,
But the meer meditations of thy goodness:
Honor and greatness, thus adieu.
Enter Belvidere.
Bel. Stay Silvio,
And Lady sit again, I come for Justice.
Sil. What would she now?
Bel. To claim thy promise Silvio,
The boon thou swor'st to give me.