Zan. Right;
For which, urg'd with contrition, I intend
This night to rob Vittoria.
Lodo. Excellent penitence!
Usurers dream on 't while they sleep out sermons.
Zan. To further our escape, I have entreated
Leave to retire me, till the funeral,
Unto a friend i' th' country: that excuse
Will further our escape. In coin and jewels
I shall at least make good unto your use
An hundred thousand crowns.
Fran. Oh, noble wench!
Lodo. Those crowns we 'll share.
Zan. It is a dowry,
Methinks, should make that sun-burnt proverb false,
And wash the Æthiop white.
Fran. It shall; away.
Zan. Be ready for our flight.
Fran. An hour 'fore day. [Exit Zanche.
Oh, strange discovery! why, till now we knew not
The circumstances of either of their deaths.
Re-enter Zanche