O. ART. Whom do I see, my son's wife?
O. LUS. What, my daughter?
JUS. Is it not Mistress Arthur that we see,
That long since buried we suppos'd to be?
MRS ART. This man's condemn'd for pois'ning of his wife;
His poison'd wife yet lives, and I am she;
And therefore justly I release his bands:
This man, for suff'ring him these drugs to take,
Is likewise bound, release him for my sake:
This gentleman that first the poison gave,
And this his friend, to be releas'd I crave:
Murther there cannot be where none is kill'd;
Her blood is sav'd, whom you suppos'd was spill'd.
Father-in-law, I give you here your son,
The act's to do which you suppos'd was done.
And, father, now joy in your daughter's life,
Whom heaven hath still kept to be Arthur's wife.
O. ART. O, welcome, welcome, daughter! now I see
God by his power hath preserved thee.
O. LUS. And 'tis my wench, whom I suppos'd was dead;
My joy revives, and my sad woe is fled.
Y. ART. I know not what I am, nor where I am;
My soul's transported to an ecstasy,
For hope and joy confound my memory.
MRS MA. What do I see? lives Arthur's wife again?
Nay then I labour for his death in vain. [Aside.
BRA. What secret force did in her nature lurk,
That in her soul the poison would not work? [Aside.
MRS SPLAY. How can it be the poison took no force?
She lives with that which would have kill'd a horse! [Aside.