; bid the rest
Of your Society be addrest,
As they feare the frowne of chaunce,
To grace this presense with a daunce.

_Recorders. Enter Hymen and the Lovers_.

_Tim_. _Death_, avaunt! thou hast no power;
This is _Hymens_ happie hower.
Away to the dark shades! hence!
And, grim _Dispaire_, let _Innocence_
Triumph, and bring eternall peace
To all your soules and Joys increase.
Smile, smile, sweet ayre, on us that come
To sing _Deaths_ Epicedium.
Extract from roses gentlest winds,
Such odors as young _Hymen_ finds
At sweet _Arabian_ nuptialls; let
The youthfull graces here beget
Soe smooth a peace that every breath
May blesse this marriage of _Death_.
Feare nothing, lady, whose bright eye
Sing'd _Deaths_ wings as he flew by:
Wee therefore, trust me, only come
To sing _Deaths_ Epicedium. [_discover_,

_Tim_. Stay, stay, by your leave Mr. Justice.--
Madam,[136] your servant _Timothy_ brings you newes
You must not dy. Know you this Gentleman?

_Sir Gef_. Now, on my knighthood, Mr. _Thurston_.

_Lady_. Amazement leave me: is he living?

_Sir Hu_. Are we deluded?

_Tim_. So it appeares, Sir: the gent[leman] never had hurt; hees here,
and let him speake for himselfe and this gentlewoman his wife.

_Lady_. Who? _Clariana_?

_Thu_. With your leave, reverend father.--To you, Madam,
Whome I must now call Mother, first your pardon
That the conceivd report of my faind death
Has brought you to this triall: next
For this your daughter and your sonn, whose virtues
Redeemd [me] from the death your rage had thought
I should have suffred, he agreeing with me
Consented to appeach himselfe of that
He nere intended, and procurd this man
As his accuser of my murder, which
Was but contrivd to let you see the error
Of your sterne malice; that, acquainted with
The foulenesse of the fact, by the effect
You might repent it and bestow your blessing
On us your Suppliant Children.

_Cla_. Which we beg
With hearty sorrow, if we have transgresd
Our duty to you.

_Sir Hu_. I am happie to see so blesd a period.

_Sir Gef_. Ha, ha, widdow, are you come of thus, widdow? You may thanke
me: I hope youle have me now, widdow.

_Lady_. This soddaine comfort,
Had I not yet a relique left of greife,
Would like a violent torrent overbeare
The banks of my mortallity. Oh, _Thurston_,
Whom I respect with a more sacred love
Then was my former; take my blessing with her
And all the wishes that a ioyfull mother
Can to a child dev