Here entereth Comfort.
O noble knight, Virginius, do stay, be not dismay’d:
I, curing Comfort, present am, your dolor [for] to aid.
Virginius. Sith joy is gone, sith life is dead,
What comfort can there be?
No more! there is but deep despair,
And deadly death to me.
Comfort. No more, Sir Knight, but take the head, and wend a while with me:
It shall be sent to court, for that Judge Appius may it see.
In recompense of lecher’s lust this present let him have,