Ten. This shall be done. [Exit.
Mac. Is your Compassion, Lady, yet awake?
Remember that the scaffold, hangman, sword,
And all the Instruments death playes upon,
Are hither calld by you; 'tis you may stay them.
When at the Barre there stood your Ravisher
You would have savd him, then you made your choyce
To marry him: will you then kill your husband?
Ele. Why did that husband then rather chuse death
Then me to be his bride? is his life mine?
Why, then, because the Law makes me his Judge,
Ile be, like you, not cruell, but reprieve him;
My prisoner shall kisse mercy.
Mac. Y'are a good Lady.
Med. Lady, untill they come, repose your selfe.
[Exit Eleonora.
Mac. How now? so soone come back? why thus returned?
Enter Pike & a Gentleman, with Letters.
Gen. Our Journey to Madrid the Kinge himselfe
Cutts off, by these his royall letters sent
Upon the wings of speed to all your Graces.
He lay one night since at your house, my Lord
Where, by your noble Wife, he had a wellcome
Fitting his greatnes & your will.
Alq. I'me glad of't.