Pol. Worthy friend,
I now must thank your wisdom as your love,
In this well-carried action; I'll requite it:
Meantime, pray use my house, and still continue
Your silence in this business. Roscio, make him welcome,
And part as little from him as you can, for fear——
Ros. Think it done, my lord.
Pol. Leucothoë,[426] come hither.
Vir. Be like yourself, let not a cruel doom
Pass those fair lips, that never were ordain'd
To kill, but to revive.
Leu. Neither, my lord, lies in their power to do.
Vir. Yes, sweet, to me,
Whom your scorn kills, and pity will revive.
Leu. Pity is show'd to men in misery.
Vir. And so am I, if not reliev'd by you.
Leu. 'Twere pride in me, my lord, to think it so.
Vir. I am your beauty's captive.