And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.
Your brother’s death, I know, sits at your heart;
And you may marvel why I obscured myself,
Labouring to save his life, and would not rather
390 Make rash [remonstrance] of my hidden power
Than let him [so be] lost. O most kind maid,
It was the swift celerity of his death,
Which I did think with slower foot came on,
That [brain’d] my purpose. [But], peace be with him!
395 That life is better life, past fearing death,