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ncere as does the timorous heart When he ore heares the featherd arrow sing His funerall Dirge. _Bel_. Can this be possible? _Bon_. No sismatick, reduc'd to the true faith, Can more abhorre the Error he has left Than I do mine. I do beleive thee chast As the straight palme; as absolute from spots As the immaculate Ermine, who does choose, When he is hunted by the frozen _Russe_, To meete the toyle ere he defile the white Of his rich skin. What seas of teares will serve To expiatt the scandall I have throwne On holy Innocence? _Bel_. Well, I forgive you; But ere I seale your pardon I in[j]oyne This as a pennance: you shall now declare The author of your wrong report. _Bon_. Your mother. _Bel_. How! my mother? _Bon_. No creature else Could have inducd me to such a madnes. _Bel_. Defend me gracious virtue! is this man Not desperate of remission, that without Sense of compu[n]ction dares imagine lies Soe horrible and godlesse? My disgrace Was wrong sufficient to tempt mercie, yet Cause twas my owne I pardond it; but this Inferd toth piety of my guiltless mother Stops all indulgence. _Bon_. Will you not heare me out? _Bel_. Your words will deafe me; I doe renounce my affection to you; when You can speake truth, protest you love agen. [_Exit_. _Bon_. Contempt repaid with scorne; tis my desert; Poyson soone murders a love wounded heart. [_Exit_. (SCENE 2.) _Enter Belisea, Clariana and Thorowgood_. _Bel_. You may declare your will[97] here are no eares But those I will not banish, were your busines More secret. _Tho_. Lady, I come to free My worthy freind and your owne servant, _Bonvill_, From an uniust suspition your conceite Retaines of him. Your mother did employ me In the unlucky message that pronouncd you Empty of honor. _Bel_. Has your worthles freind Hird you to sweare this? _Tho_. I'me none that live By selling oathes. _Bel_. Ile scarce believ't; he shall not With all his cunning policie regaine My good opinion of him. Sir, you cannot Doe a more pleasing office then to leave me: I do not love to heare of him. _Tho_. Your pleasure rules me. [_Exit_. _Cla_. _Belisea_, you did ill Not to heare out the Gent[leman]. _Bel_. Prethe why? His owne confession does appeach him one In the conspiracy against my honor. He sayes my mother was the originall Of _Bonviles_
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