Alb. What like, and who? add not more misery
To a man that's fruitful in afflictions.
Who is't you would have me like?
Who sent these comforts?
Amin. I must tell.
Alb. Be bold.
Amin. But be you temperate.
If you be bold I die. The young fair Virgin;
(Sorrow hath made me old.) O hearken,
And wisely hark, the Governess daughter:
That Star that strikes this Island full of wonder,
That blooming sweetness.
Alb. What of her?
Amin. She sent it: and with it,
It must be out, she dotes on ye,
And must enjoy ye: else no joy must find ye.
Alb. And have you the patience to deliver this?
Amin. A sister may say much, and modestly.
Alb. A sister?
Amin. Yes, that name undid ye;
Undid us both: had ye nam'd Wife, she had fear'd ye;
And fear'd the sin she follow'd; She had shun'd, yea
Her Virgin modesty had not touch'd at ye.
But thinking you were free, hath kindled a fire,
I fear will hardly be extinguisht.