Me. Why, to day; I met him comming home from Powles Crosse, Where he had beene to heare a Sermon.
Rach. Why brought you not the man along with you To come to dinner, that we might perswade Him to continue in his secrecie?
Mer. I did intreate him, but he would not come, But vow'd to be as secret as my selfe.
Rach. What, did he sweare?
Mer. What neede you aske me that?
You know we never heard him sweare an othe.
But since he hath conceal'd the thing thus long,
I hope in God he will conceale it still.
Rach. Pray God he do, and then I have no doubt
But God will overpasse this greevous sinne,
If you lament with true unfained teares
And seeke to live the remnant of your yeares
In Gods true feare with upright conscience.
Mer. If it would please him pardon this amisse
And rid my body from the open shame
That doth attend this deed, being brought to light,
I would endevour all my comming dayes
To please my maker and exalt his praise.
But it growes late, come bring me to my bed,
That I may rest my sorrow-charged head.
Rach. Rest still in calme secure tranquillitie,
And over-blowe this storme of mightie feare
With pleasant gales of hoped quietnesse.
Go when you will; I will attend, and pray
To send this wofull night a cheerfull day.
[Exeunt.