Enter Maria.
Mar. I am walk'd forth from my preserver's cave,
To search about these woods, only to see
The penitent Albert, whose repentant mind
Each tree expresseth. O, that some power divine
Would hither send my virtuous Carracus!
Not for my own content, but that he might
See how his distress'd friend repents the wrong,
Which his rash folly, most unfortunate,
Acted 'gainst him and me; which I forgive
A hundred times a day, for that more often
My eyes are witness to his sad complaints.
How the good hermit seems to share his moans,
Which in the daytime he deplores 'mongst trees,
And in the night his cave is fill'd with sighs;
No other bed doth his weak limbs support
Than the cold earth; no other harmony
To rock his cares asleep but blustering winds,
Or some swift current, headlong rushing down
From a high mountain's top, pouring his force
Into the ocean's gulf, where being swallow'd,
Seems to bewail his fall with hideous words:
No other sustentation to suffice,
What nature claims, but raw, unsavoury roots
With troubled waters, where untamed beasts
Do bathe themselves.
Enter Satyrs, dance, et exeunt.
Ah me! what things are these?
What pretty harmless things they seem to be!
As if delight had nowhere made abode,
But in their nimble sport.
Enter Albert [and Carracus.]
Yonder's the courteous hermit, and with him
Albert, it seems. O, see, 'tis Carracus!
Joy, do not now confound me!
Car. Thanks unto heavens and thee, thou holy man,
I have attain'd what doth adorn man's being,
That precious gem of reason, by which solely
We are discern'd from rude and brutish beasts,
No other difference being 'twixt us and them.
How to repay this more than earthly kindness
Lies not within my power, but in his,
That hath indu'd thee with celestial gifts,
To whom I'll pray, he may bestow on thee
What thou deserv'st, bless'd immortality.
Alb. Which unto you befall, thereof most worthy.
But, virtuous sir, what I will now request
From your true generous nature is, that you would
Be pleas'd to pardon that repentant wight,
Whose sinful story upon yon tree's bark
Yourself did read, for that you say, to you
Those wrongs were done.
Car. Indeed they were, and to a dear wife lost;
Yet I forgive him, as I wish the heavens
May pardon me.
Mar. So doth Maria too.
[She discovers herself.