In any cause that makes suspicious shadow
No greater than the shadow of a haire;
And y'are to blame. What though my lord and husband
Lie forth to night, and since I cannot sleepe
When he is absent I sit up to night;
Though all the dores are sure, and all our servants
As sure bound with their sleepes; yet there is One
That wakes above, whose eye no sleepe can binde:
He sees through dores, and darknesse, and our thoughts;
And therefore as we should avoid with feare
To think amisse our selves before his search,
So should we be as curious to shunne
All cause that other think not ill of us.
_Buss._ Madam, 'tis farre from that: I only heard
By this my honour'd father that your conscience
Made some deepe scruple with a false report
That Barrisors blood should something touch your honour,
Since he imagin'd I was courting you
When I was bold to change words with the Duchesse,
And therefore made his quarrell, his long love
And service, as I heare, beeing deepely vowed
To your perfections; which my ready presence,
Presum'd on with my father at this season
For the more care of your so curious honour,
Can well resolve your conscience is most false.
_Tam._ And is it therefore that you come, good sir?
Then crave I now your pardon and my fathers,
And sweare your presence does me so much good
That all I have it bindes to your requitall.
Indeed sir, 'tis most true that a report
Is spread, alleadging that his love to me
Was reason of your quarrell; and because
You shall not think I faine it for my glory
That he importun'd me for his Court service,
I'le shew you his own hand, set down in blood,
To that vaine purpose: good sir, then come in.
Father, I thank you now a thousand fold.
_Exit Tamyra and D'Amb[ois]_
_Fri._ May it be worth it to you, honour'd daughter!
_Descendit Fryar._

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