The gods to guard me. She may be abus'd,
And I a loathed villain: if she be,
She will conceal who hurt her; He has wounds,
And cannot follow, neither knows he me.
Who's this; _Bellario_ sleeping? If thou beest
Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleep

[_Cry within_.

Should be so sound, and mine, whom thou hast wrong'd,
So broken: Hark I am pursued: you gods
I'le take this offer'd means of my escape:
They have no mark to know me, but my wounds,
If she be true; if false, let mischief light
On all the world at once. Sword, print my wounds
Upon this sleeping boy: I ha' none I think
Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee.

[_Wounds him_.

_Bell_. Oh death I hope is come, blest be that hand,
It meant me well; again, for pities sake.

_Phi_. I have caught my self,

[Phi. _falls_.

The loss of bloud hath stayed my flight. Here, here,
Is he that stroke thee: take thy full revenge,
Use me, as I did mean thee, worse than death:
I'le teach thee to revenge this luckless hand
Wounded the Princess, tell my followers
Thou didst receive these hurts in staying me,
And I will second thee: Get a reward.

_Bell_. Fly, fly my Lord and save your self.

_Phi_. How's this?
Wouldst thou I should be safe?

_Bell_. Else it were vain
For me to live. These little wounds I have,
Ha' not bled much, reach me that noble hand,
I'le help to cover you.

_Phi_. Art thou true to me?

_Bell_. Or let me perish loath'd. Come my good Lord,
Creep in amongst those bushes: who does know
But that the gods may save your (much lov'd) breath?

_Phi_. Then I shall die for grief, if not for this,
That I have wounded thee: what wilt thou do?

_Bell_. Shift for my self well: peace, I hear 'em come.

_Within_. Follow, follow, follow; that way they went.

_Bell_. With my own wounds I'le