Y. LUS. O, sir, you too much affect this evil;
Poor saint! why wert thou yok'd thus with a devil? [Aside.
[Exeunt Y. ART. and Y. LUS.
MRS ART. If thou wilt win my heart, die suddenly!
But that my soul was bought at such a rate,
At such a high price as my Saviour's blood,
I would not stick to lose it with a stab;
But, virtue, banish all such fantasies.
He is my husband, and I love him well;
Next to my own soul's health I tender him,
And would give all the pleasures of the world
To buy his love, if I might purchase it.
I'll follow him, and like a servant wait,
And strive by all means to prevent his hate.
[Exit.
Enter OLD MASTER ARTHUR and OLD MASTER LUSAM.
O. ART. This is my son's house; were it best go in?
How say you, Master Lusam?
O. LUS. How? Go in? How say you, sir?
O. ART. I say 'tis best.
O. LUS. Ay, sir, say you so? so say I too.
O. ART. Nay, nay, it is not best; I'll tell you why.
Haply the fire of hate is quite extinct
From the dead embers; now to rake them up,
Should the least spark of discontent appear,
To make the flame of hatred burn afresh,
The heat of this dissension might scorch us;
Which, in his own cold ashes smother'd up,
May die in silence, and revive no more:
And therefore tell me, is it best or no?
O. LUS. How say you, sir?